Ivy #2
I cross my arms, freshly suspicious. "Why not?"
"Because you brained me with a fire extinguisher when you know I could have overpowered you." His head tilts slightly. "You stood your ground. You're fierce."
"I was also naked, dripping wet, terrified."
He gives a low chuckle at that and moves past me toward the common area, clearly expecting me to follow. "If we're going to have this conversation, I'd prefer not to do it in the hallway where your alphas can hear every word."
I hesitate for exactly three seconds before following.
The common area is darker than the hallway, curtains drawn against the afternoon light. Valek settles onto the couch, one leg crossed over the other, arms spread loosely along the back like he owns the place.
I take the chair across from him, perching on the edge in case I need to bolt.
"I know who you are," he says without preamble. "Wade Kelly's missing fiancée. The omega everyone thinks ran away during All-Star weekend."
My throat goes dry, even though I suspected he knew who I was the moment he laid eyes on me. "Did you tell him?"
"No."
"Why not?"
Valek's expression doesn't change. "Because Wade Kelly is a piece of shit who deserves nothing, least of all information about your whereabouts."
The bluntness of it catches me off guard.
"You played with him," I say carefully. "On the Demons."
"For one miserable season." Valek's lip curls slightly, flashing a hint of sharp canine. "He was insufferable then. Can't imagine he's improved."
"He hasn't."
Valek's sharp features soften slightly. It isn't sympathy or pity. More like cold understanding. "I caught a glimpse of your mark when you split my skull open," he says. "Or rather, where it used to be. Burning off a mating bite... that couldn't have been pleasant."
I resist the urge to touch my scarred shoulder. "Neither was getting the mark in the first place."
Valek goes very still. The kind of stillness that snakes have right before they strike.
"He forced it?"
"Does it matter?" I ask bitterly. "It's gone now."
"It matters," Valek says quietly. "Forcing a bond is..." He pauses, seeming to search for words. "There are lines even monsters shouldn't cross."
"Are you a monster?"
The question hangs between us. Valek considers it, head tilted again in that disconcerting way.
"Sometimes," he says finally. "When necessary."
Honest, at least.
I lean back slightly, trying to read him. It's like trying to read water. He flows around direct questions, never quite answering what you're actually asking.
"Your pack doesn't trust me," Valek continues, pulling a knife from his pocket and flipping it open.
I tense instinctively.
He notices, of course. "Relax. I'm not going to stab you." The knife spins between his fingers, a blur of silver. He catches it with a slight smirk. "Though I understand why they're concerned. My reputation precedes me."
"Uh-huh. Whiskey calls you 'knife psycho.'"
"I've been called worse. Though 'psycho' is a bit reductive. I prefer 'selectively violent.'"
A laugh escapes me. "That's not better."
"Isn't it?" His silver eyes catch mine, and for the first time, there's genuine amusement in them. "At least it implies thought goes into the violence."
"You're fucking weird," I tell him.
"So I've been told."
We lapse into silence. It's not exactly comfortable, but it isn't hostile either. Just... existing in the same space. Two messed up people who don't know what to make of each other.
"Why did you come down here?" Valek asks eventually. "To confront me?"
"To figure out if you're a threat."
"And?"
I study him. The casual danger radiating off him like heat. The way he watches me without seeming to watch me at all. The strange, deep, heavy sadness blanketing him like a forcefield.
"I don't think you're a threat to me specifically," I say slowly. "But I think you're capable of being a threat to pretty much anyone else."
"Accurate assessment." He doesn't sound bothered by it. "Though I should clarify—the only people who've found themselves at the pointy end of my knife are alphas. So far, only alphas who deserve it."
"Why?"
He shrugs.
"Tell me about him," Valek says, catching me off guard. "Wade. What did he do to you?"
So he's an alpha who deserves it, then.
I take a deep breath, considering my next words carefully. "He started out perfect," I hear myself say. "Charming. Attentive. Everything I thought I wanted in an alpha."
Valek's flat expression doesn't change.
"Then we moved in together and the cracks started showing." My hands clench in my lap. "Small things at first. Comments about what I wore, who I talked to. Then bigger things. Controlling where I went. Who I saw. Monitoring my phone."
"And the physical abuse?"
The question is clinical. Detached. Somehow that makes it easier to answer.
"That started about six months in. First, it was grabbing me when he was angry. Then shoving. Then—" I stop, throat tight.
Valek nods slowly, his eyes sharpening. "And the forced bond?"
"After I tried to leave the first time." The memory makes my skin crawl. "He said if I was bonded to him, I couldn't run. That I'd always come back."
"But you didn't."
"No." I meet his eyes. "I burned it off and I ran, and I'll keep running until the bond dissolves completely and he can't find me anymore."
Valek is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is softer than I've heard it so far. "Wade will be at the game tomorrow."
I find myself relaxing slightly. If he'd fed me platitudes about how strong and brave I am, I might not have believed he's safe. The fact he isn't even bothering to try to woo me with words makes it slightly more convincing when he says he isn't a threat to me.
For now, at least.
"Where will you be?" he asks.
"In the crowd. Disguised." I gesture to my freshly darkened hair with a tired smile. "Hiding in plain sight."
"Bold strategy." He doesn't sound like he disapproves. "Risky, but bold."
"I'm tired of hiding in lofts and tunnels. I want to see my—" I catch myself. "I want to see the Ghosts play."
Valek's mouth quirks. "Your pack, you mean."
Heat crawls up my neck. "It's complicated."
"Is it?" He sounds genuinely curious. "You're their scent match. They're clearly protective of you. You've chosen at least one of them—Wraith, based on how thoroughly his scent is embedded in yours—and the others are waiting for you to choose them too."
"You got all that from sitting across from me for five minutes?"
"I'm observant." He shrugs. "And they're not subtle.
Whiskey looks at you like he's drunk on your very existence.
Plague pretends he's above emotional attachment but checks his phone constantly to see if you've messaged.
Thane paces outside your door like a guard dog.
And Wraith..." He pauses. "Wraith is interesting. "
"What do you mean?"
"He's feral. Truly feral, in a way most alphas only pretend to be. He's damaged in a way that should make him completely unpredictable and dangerous." Valek's silver eyes study me. "Yet you are the center of his entire universe."
I bristle at "damaged," even though Valek's tone isn't cruel. "There's nothing wrong with Wraith."
"I didn't say there was." Valek leans back again.
"There is nothing wrong with being damaged.
Damaged doesn't have to mean destroyed. Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken things with gold.
" He gives me a slight smile that has none of the usual edge. "You, Ivy, are his gold. And your own."
Another uncomfortably accurate observation.
"You seem to know a lot about trauma," I mutter.
"Personal experience." He doesn't elaborate, and I don't push. "Which is why I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to think carefully before answering."
The wary tension that coils in my stomach makes me slightly nauseous. "Okay."
"Wade forced a bond on you. Abused you. Made you fear for your life enough that you burned off his mark and ran. He'll keep hunting you as long as he's physically able. I can change that."
I stare at him, blinking as his offer sets in.
Yeah, okay.
He's fucking nuts.
"No. No way. No one's going to prison because of me."
Valek's eyebrow arches. "Why would you care? I'm not part of your pack."
The question catches me off guard.
Why do I care?
I barely know this alpha. And he's definitely not someone I should feel protective of. The idea is almost comical.
But what I do know is the sadness surrounding Valek is suffocating. Like he wasn't just damaged, he was born grieving. Like there was never any hope for him at all.
This isn't an alpha I need to fear.
"Why would you care about some random omega enough to even consider something like that?" I counter.
Valek's expression shifts, his eyes widening slightly, maybe in surprise that I'm calling him on his own question. So he is capable of other expressions after all.
"Fair point," he admits, glancing away.
"So?"
Those silver eyes flick up to me again.
"I don't know, Ivy."
For some reason, I don't believe him.
"So what, you have a thing for omegas who give you traumatic brain injuries?" I press, appealing to his dark sense of humor instead. I happen to share it.
He blows a puff of air through his nose. "Admiration, perhaps."
"So you respect violence."
"I respect survival." He leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees. "Evolution."
I study him for a long moment. The bone-white hair that falls across his forehead, the strands obscuring the old scar notching his eyebrow. The sharp angles of his face that are beautiful in the way a fallen angel's face is beautiful. The way he holds himself like a coiled cobra ready to strike.
He's not lying about personal experience with trauma. I can see it in every line of this alpha's body. Ferocity bordering on feral, but the controlled type that comes from years of having to plan out every move to stay alive.
I would know.
"Valek," I say carefully, "I need you to promise me something."
"That depends entirely on what you're asking," he says without missing a beat.
"Don't murder Wade."