Whiskey #2
"Was it?" I scratch my jaw. "Huh. Maybe. Either way, we end up upside down in a ditch, smoke everywhere, and I'm thinking, 'Great, this is how I die. In Canada. My ancestors are gonna be so pissed off.'"
Ivy's laughing now, even though it's a stiff, worried laugh. "You guys are insane. How did you get out?"
"I kicked out the windshield and we crawl out, covered in glass and mud and blood, and there's Valek standing there like some kind of horror movie villain. Tall, scary, silver eyes doing that creepy glowing thing—"
"His eyes don't glow," Plague says.
"They absolutely glow, bro. Anyway, we fight. I grab him, he stabs me… but I kicked his fuckin' ass. Dominated him. Made him regret ever—"
"That is not what happened," Plague interrupts, setting his tea down. "And he didn't stab you."
"He stabbed my coat!"
Plague rolls his eyes. "Valek is a fierce opponent. Even with both of us, he held his own. Are you already forgetting I pulled him off you when he had his blade at your throat?"
I wave him away. "Minor setback. I would've gotten the upper hand again."
Ivy's looking between us like we're both nuts, which, fair. Wraith's moved closer to the couch, his massive bulk looming in that protective way he does when he thinks someone's in danger. Even if the danger already happened and we're fine now.
Kinda sweet that he's worried about us, actually. Usually, he just has his walls up and pretends like we don't exist.
"So what happened after he threatened you?" Ivy asks.
"We went to the hospital to get checked out," Plague supplies, clearly tired of my version of events. "To make sure Whiskey didn't lose his last brain cell."
I roll my eyes. "My head was fine. It's my shoulder that was fucked up."
Ivy glances worriedly at my shoulder.
"And that's fine now, too," I add, rolling said shoulder and ignoring the sharp twinge. "See? Perfectly functional."
Plague's eyes narrow, but he doesn't call me out. Just continues the story. "The hospital was small. Quiet. We heard familiar voices in the hallway."
"Valek?" Ivy asks.
"His whole family," I say. "Mom with a broken wrist, siblings, dad, the works. Turns out his mom was the cause of the emergency. She broke her wrist at some church bake-off because another lady sabotaged her or something."
Wraith huffs a soft laugh.
Ivy blinks. "You're kidding."
"Nope. Small-town drama at its finest," I say, grinning. "Anyway, his mom spotted us and invited us to dinner."
Ivy's eyebrows shoot up. "She invited you to dinner? The people who were stalking her son?"
"Well, she didn't know that part," Plague says dryly. "She thought we were concerned teammates checking on Valek after his family emergency."
Ivy winces.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," I sigh. "I feel shitty about it too. But he seemed to understand why we tailed him."
"Uh-huh." Ivy's tone is knowing in a way that makes me want to crawl under the couch. "And how did dinner with Valek's family go?"
Plague clears his throat. "It was... manageable. His family was kind. Genuinely loving. His mother fussed over everyone, his siblings teased each other, his father told terrible dad jokes. It was—"
"Normal," I supply. "Like, aggressively normal. Made the whole surveillance thing feel pretty shitty, honestly."
Wraith fingerspells to me. D-O-E-S… V-A-L-E-K… S-E-E-M… D-A-N-G-E-R-O-U-S?
"Nah," I answer him. "He was different. Softer, maybe? Still had that edge, though. And he hates Wade Kelly."
The mood shifts immediately. Wraith goes rigid. Ivy straightens, listening.
Plague takes over, his voice careful. "He made it clear he thinks Wade is a cruel piece of shit. I didn't get the impression they are secretly friends. Which means he either isn't an immediate threat to you or he's an excellent actor."
"Both could be true," Ivy says quietly.
Fair point.
Wraith signs something else, this time directed at Ivy. When he finishes, she turns back to us to translate.
"He's asking if Valek knows who I am."
Plague and I exchange a look. We've been dancing around this question since we got on the plane.
"Honestly?" I say. "Yeah. Probably. He knows we're hiding an omega. And he's smart as fuck. He’s seen you. He knows Wraith was with you in the tunnels. Put the pieces together about Wade, about the Demons, about why we'd be so protective..."
"Unless you were wearing a mask yourself, he knows," Plague mutters to her.
“Not a bad idea,” Ivy mumbles, her fingers tightening around her mug. "And he's downstairs right now."
"Yeah," I say, sighing. "In his room. Dude looked exhausted."
"We don't think he'll hurt you," Plague adds quickly. "Not our call to make, obviously, but... we played chess on the plane, and you can learn a lot about a person from how they play. My instincts say he's not a threat. To you, specifically."
"To us, though?" I grin. "Different story. He'd put us both in one of his bro’s pies if given half a chance."
Ivy manages a weak laugh. "Great. So I'm hiding in a loft above an alleged psychopath who may or may not be on my side while my abusive ex, who was once on a team with him, is plotting how to find me."
"When you put it like that, it sounds bad," I say.
"It is bad, Whiskey."
"Yeah, okay, fair. But you've got us. Four alphas who'd die before letting Wade or anyone else hurt you. That's gotta count for something."
Her expression softens. "It does. You have no idea how much it counts."
The vulnerability in her voice makes my chest tight. I want to pull her into my arms, but Wraith's between us and I'm not even sure if that would be welcome right now. Physical affection's tricky when someone's been through what she has.
"So, who won the games?" Ivy asks Plague, her tone teasing.
Plague's ears go pink. “We both won.”
“Valek kicked your ass,” I tell him, grinning.
“Because a certain someone was distracting the fuck out of me,” Plague growls.
“Not my fault you think I’m hot.” My grin widens. Can’t help myself, apparently.
Plague’s eyes flick to his tea spoon like he’s considering scooping my innards out with it.
Ivy's laughing again, and the sound eases some of the tension in the room. Even Wraith's shoulders relax slightly, though he's still watching everyone with that intense focus he can’t seem to shake.
“We just missed you,” I say to Ivy, dropping the jokes for a minute. “He spent half the flight trying to get on the Wi-Fi so he could check the group chat.”
Ivy's smile is soft and warm and makes me feel like I just scored the winning goal in overtime. "I missed you guys too."
Wraith signs something else, movements definitely slower now. Sluggish, even. Ivy frowns as she watches.
"He says he's glad we're all together again," she translates, but her eyes stay on Wraith. "Are you okay?"
Wraith nods, but it's not convincing.
I set my mug down and stand, moving closer to the massive alpha. He tenses immediately.
"Hey," I say quietly, keeping my voice low. "Can we talk? Just you and me?"
Wraith looks at Ivy, then Plague, then back to me, his brow furrowed in confusion. But after a moment, he nods.
We move to the far corner of the loft, near the small kitchenette. It's darker here, which I think Wraith prefers. Even with his mask firmly in place, he’s shy as fuck.
I've been teaching myself sign language from YouTube videos and TikToks, trying to bridge the gap between us. It's not perfect—Wraith's version is basically his own invention, mixing ASL with gestures he comes up with himself—but I'm getting better at reading him.
"You okay?" I ask, signing along with my whispering even though I'm pretty ass at this.
He shrugs, which is Wraith-speak for 'no, but I don't want to talk about it.'
"Does it have to do with Ivy?"
He shrugs again.
I hesitate before asking my next question. "Did she see your face?"
His whole body goes rigid.
That's a yes.
I wince.
Shit.
I don't have to know what's under the mask to know it's bad.
But I also know Ivy's tough as nails and she looks at him like he hung the damn moon.
Even from across the room where she's talking to Plague, probably about chess and how he would have won if he hadn't chugged three immunity shots before boarding the plane, Ivy keeps glancing at his back with sweet little smiles.
There's no way Ivy saw Wraith's face and reacted…
Well, like everyone else always does.
"Did she react badly?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.
That she didn't, but maybe Wraith has convinced himself she has, even if that isn't the way things went.
He hates himself. Makes Plague at his absolute maximum level of emo look like a happy-go-lucky bucket of sunshine in comparison.
Wraith hesitates, then shakes his head. Then he signs, B-U-T… I-V-Y… C-O-U-L-D… B-E-… I-N… S-H-O-C-K.
He's fingerspelling even though I'm doing my best to show off all the signs I've learned. Shit, I must suck at this more than I thought.
"Shock? I kind of doubt it's traumatizing levels of bad…"
He gives me a blank stare that says it is.
"Okay, but even if you look scary, she's obviously still into you, bro," I whisper to him, still trying to sign along with what I'm saying out loud even though my confidence has been shaken by his fingerspelling.
There's no way the sign for "into" is the same crude sign I'd use to demonstrate a dick fucking into a hole, but whatever.
The fact that he doesn't react means he's too stressed out to even notice my mistake, which isn't good.
He shrugs again, eyes back on the floor, clearly not convinced.
"I can tell from the way she looks at you," I continue. "She's doing it right now. Turn around. She ain't a chick who's looking at someone she's afraid of. She loves you."
Wraith's eyes flick up to mine and he hesitates, then glances over at Ivy. Ivy's smile brightens the whole damn room and she gives him an adorable little wave. Wraith manages a stiff wave back. When Ivy goes back to talking to Plague, Wraith turns back to me with a long, burdened sigh.
M-A-Y-B-E, he signs.