Ivy
So. Valek is gone.
Not gone gone. I don't think. I'm not letting myself panic just yet. When we came down from the loft this morning, I expected to find him in the kitchen, stealing Plague's tea or reading or… something.
But he was nowhere to be found.
His leather jacket is still hanging on the hook by the door, so I'm guessing he just stepped out for a bit, considering it's chilly out.
Then again, he doesn't mind the cold.
But he missed breakfast, and I'm starting to worry.
"Has anyone heard from Valek?" I ask the pack at large from my spot on the couch.
My head is resting on Whiskey's warm belly, which is the softest and most comfortable place I've ever put my head, and my legs are stretched out across Plague's lap. Wraith is sitting on the floor in front of the couch, his head resting against the seat cushion, dozing as I pet his dark hair.
Whiskey looks up from his phone, still petting my hair with his other hand. "I texted him twice. He left me on read both times." He frowns, thumb scrolling back through his messages like he's checking again. "Which is rude, by the way."
"You sent him an hour's worth of TikToks," Plague says dryly without looking up from his book. "It may take him some time."
"I curated those just for him," Whiskey protests. "I'm like a living FYP. None of you give me half the credit I deserve."
I like the ones you send me, Wraith signs without opening his eyes.
Whiskey grins at him. "Yeah, well, you're easy to please. TikTok's nothing but cat videos."
"We're not getting a cat," Thane says distractedly, his eyes locked on his laptop, from the armchair Valek usually claims. He's wearing glasses today. Unfairly hot glasses. He reminds me even more of Clark Kent than he did without them.
"No one's getting a cat, Captain Buzzkill," Whiskey shoots back. "But, uh, if you ever change your mind…"
"We're talking about Valek," I interrupt before we get derailed. "Have you heard from him, Thane?"
Thane blinks up at me, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Valek?" He checks his phone. "Yeah. He texted me at six AM. Said he had errands."
"At six AM," I repeat.
"He's Valek," Thane says with a shrug, like that explains everything.
To be fair, it kind of does.
Wraith's eyes open slightly and he turns his head to look up at me.
He isn't wearing his gaiter today, or even a scarf he can pull up.
Not even having a scarf is new, and worrying me, because I really don't think it's because he's feeling comfortable.
He still flinches and turns slightly when anyone looks at him too long, even me, sometimes.
V-A-L-E-K left early, he signs to me. I heard him go. Before dawn.
"Did he seem okay?" I ask.
Wraith hesitates, thinking about it. Yes.
"Brooding in the dark is kind of his whole thing," Whiskey offers, but he's frowning slightly. I get the feeling he's actually somewhat concerned himself now.
I check my phone again. Nothing from Valek in my messages. We do text occasionally, but not very often. He's a man of few words.
I pull up the camera on my phone.
The bedhead situation is catastrophic. There's a button from Whiskey's flannel imprinted on my cheek.
Oh well.
I snap the picture to remind Valek of what he could have if he were here, and fire it off.
IVY
You missed breakfast Val
He already read it.
Three dots appear, disappear, appear again.
VALEK
Just one black heart emoji.
Not even a sarcastic quip about Whiskey doubling as a better omega pillow than anything you could hope to find in a luxury store.
But he's being Valek, so I think he's okay.
I settle back against Whiskey and close my eyes, letting the tension in my chest unwind as he goes back to happily petting and further fucking up my hair. And I do the same for Wraith.
A petting chain.
Love it.
Until Wraith's head snaps up, his blue eyes locked on the front door with a deep growl.
I bolt upright so fast my elbow drives straight into Whiskey's stomach.
He folds like a lawn chair. "Huurk—"
"Sorry, sorry! What's wrong? Wraith? What do you hear?"
"She's killed me," Whiskey wheezes to no one in particular. "Tell Plague I loved him."
Plague turns a page.
Wraith glares at Whiskey and holds up one finger. Listen.
The room goes dead quiet. I strain my ears.
Nothing.
"I don't hear anything," Whiskey whispers loudly.
Wraith's hand cuts through the air. Something. At the door.
Thane is already on his feet, glasses pushed up his nose, his body angled between the hallway and the rest of us. "Package, maybe? We've got a few deliveries scheduled, but nothing was supposed to come today."
Plague sets his book down with deliberate calm and rises from the couch, displacing my legs. "I'll be the one to check again," he says dryly.
I sigh, already pushing past Whiskey's arm. "You're all just as feral as me, I swear."
They loom around me as I pad to the door and open it.
There are black roses on the doorstep.
A full bouquet of them, so dark they're almost purple, arranged in black tissue paper and tied with a satin ribbon the exact color of blood. There's a black envelope next to them.
I bend down and pick up the envelope first. It's heavy. Expensive paper, not the flimsy shit you get at the drugstore. And on the back, pressed into a circle of deep red wax…
A V.
"Whoa," I breathe.
"What is it?" Thane calls from behind me.
“First she kills me, now there's murder flowers,” Whiskey groans, rubbing his stomach where I probably rearranged his organs with my elbow.
I grab the murder flowers too and bring everything inside, kicking the door shut with my heel. The bouquet is heavier than it looks, and I have to hold it close to my chest so it doesn't tip out of my arms and end up all over the floor.
They smell incredible, and there's a small card tucked between the stems. I pull it free, glancing over the handwriting automatically before I register it's not English.
It's in Russian.
Of course it is.
"What does it say?" Whiskey cranes over my shoulder.
"Give me a second." I pull up the translate app on my phone. I could always just ask Wraith or Plague to translate, but I want to read it myself. I angle the camera over the card and wait for the text to resolve.
Open alone.
My heart flutters.
"What?" Whiskey demands, trying to read the screen.
I flip the phone against my chest. "It's private."
"Private?" Whiskey's eyebrows shoot to his hairline. "From the mysterious alpha who disappeared before dawn and left spooky flowers on the porch? Ivy, c'mon—"
"It's fine. And you know it's fine." I tuck the card back into the bouquet. "I could always show you my lockscreen if you need a reminder of just how fine it is."
Whiskey's face turns beet red. So do Plague's ears.
"I'm going up to the loft," I announce.
"Alone?" Thane asks.
"Yep!"
I turn to head that way and walk directly into a wall. A wall that catches me before I can topple backward and land on my ass.
I look up—way up—into Wraith’s uncertain blue eyes, his hands still on my waist. But the tilt of his head and the softness in his eyes and set of his scarred jaw makes him look curious, not alarmed.
I pull him down to me and rise up on my tiptoes to press my lips to his forehead, right between his eyebrows.
"I'll be right back," I promise him. "Stay."
He huffs.
I feel all four alphas’ eyes on me as I climb the ladder to the loft and pull the hatch shut behind me.
The nest is still warm and covered in all their scents from last night. I settle cross-legged in the center of it, set the roses beside me, and turn the black envelope over in my hands.
The wax seal is perfect. Not a single crack or bubble. Whoever pressed it took their time.
No wonder Valek was gone when I woke up.
I slide my thumb under the flap and break the seal. Inside, there's a single sheet of the same heavy black paper, folded once. The writing is still in Russian, perfectly neat, although written out long form, the handwriting looks slightly sharp and scratchy.
Biting my lip, I take my phone out again and translate. The handwriting is neat enough that the app actually cooperates for once.
Ivy,
If you wish to wear my mark, allow me to earn it.
Allow me to hunt you.
Meet me in the woods behind the house at midnight. If at any moment you wish to stop, use what's in the box.
—V
My heart does a nervous, excited little flop in my chest.
I read it again.
And again.
But what box is he talking about?
Oh. Wait. There's something else in the bouquet. I push the roses aside gently. Tucked among the stems, I find a wooden box. It's maybe six by four inches, dark stained wood, hinged with tiny brass clasps.
I flip the clasps open, then the lid.
It's a fucking flare gun.
Matte black, compact, and loaded with a single red cartridge. It's nestled in dark foam cut to its shape, alongside a note the size of a fortune cookie slip.
Fire once to end the hunt.
My hands are shaking.
And most definitely not from fear.
From the electric, feral, utterly unhinged excitement that's been building since the second I saw those black roses on the doorstep.
He's giving me a safeword.
A loud, visible, unmistakable safeword that lights up the whole sky.
This is the most Valek thing that has ever happened.
I close the box, tuck the letter back in the envelope, and climb back down the ladder.
Four alphas are exactly where I left them, though their positions have shifted in telling ways.
Wraith is standing now, one arm up against the top of the doorframe, his dark shirt riding up just enough to bare a sliver of scarred, toned abdomen. He's watching me carefully, head tilted.
Thane's not far from his brother, arms crossed over his broad chest and his glasses halfway down the bridge of his nose. Plague is pretending to read but his eyes aren't moving. Whiskey has given up all pretense and is just staring up at me like the worried golden retriever he is.
"So," I say.
They wait.
"I'm meeting Valek in the woods tonight."
Silence.
"The woods," Thane repeats.
"At midnight," I confirm. “Yep.”
Whiskey opens his mouth soundlessly, looking at the others. "Just to be clear,” he croaks, “the creepy envelope and black roses are telling you to go into the woods at midnight?"
"Yes."
"Alone?"
"That's the idea."
Whiskey shrugs. "Okay."
Thane shoots him a look. "Okay? That's it?"
"Yeah, man," Whiskey says, clearly having already processed it. "It's Valek. He's good."
Wraith's hands come up. Is this your date?
I meet his eyes. His beautiful, uncertain blue eyes. "Yes. He's going to mark me, and this is how he needs to do it."
They all exchange a look.
Whiskey and Plague seem to be having some invisible communication thing going on. It ends with Whiskey shrugging his big shoulders again and Plague nodding.
Thane still doesn't look convinced. His jaw and stance are so tight, I’m pretty sure he’s about to combust.
Wraith just watches me.
"I'm not afraid of him," I tell them. "I mean that. He gave me a way out if I need it." I hold up the wooden box. "Flare gun. One shot. If I fire it, it's over and he stops. You’d all know where I am if you saw that anyway."
Wraith rumbles with a soft but affirmative growl.
"Let me do this," I say. “It’s safe. Val is safe. I promise.”
Thane opens his mouth to protest, but Wraith steps forward. His scarred hand reaches out and covers both of mine where they're wrapped around the wooden box.
He holds them for a moment.
Then he lets go and steps aside.
Thane exhales through his nose and runs a hand through his shaggy hair. "If anything—anything—feels wrong, you fire that flare."
"I will."
"Promise me, Ivy."
"I promise."
He nods once.
Whiskey sinks onto the couch, scrubbing both hands down his face. "Maaaaan. I'm gonna be pacing craters in the floor. The woods?"
"I can handle the woods," I remind him. "It isn't exactly Everest."
"The woods go deep," Plague says, sitting beside him with his book in his lap. "If you go the wrong way, you could end up in the mountains."
I grin at him. "Perfect."
Thane pulls out his phone. "I'm at least texting him the ground rules."
Whiskey snatches it clean out of his hand. "Absolutely not."
"Whiskey, give me my fucking—"
"You've been promoted from Captain Buzzkill to Chief of the Fun Police and I'm disbanding the department." He holds the phone behind his back with one hand and stiff-arms Thane's chest with the other. "Badge and gun, Belmont. Turn 'em in."
"What?"
"You heard me. You're off the case." Whiskey shoves the phone into his back pocket where there's no way in hell Thane's going to grab for it. "Let the scary psycho alpha take the girl he loves into the woods without a terms of service agreement, Thane."
Plague sighs from somewhere behind his book. "He'll just get another phone."
"Then I'll take that one too. I will confiscate every electronic device in this house. I will die on this hill."
"You will, will you?" Thane challenges.
Wraith manages a soft huff that sounds like it's in his brother's favor.
I clutch the box to my chest as they kick off another round of alpha posturing, still grinning. My heart is hammering so hard I can feel it in my teeth.
But I'm not scared.
I'm fucking thrilled.