Chapter 9 – COSIMA
COSIMA
It feels like I can see the whole fucking wasteland from here.
I have a higher vantage point than I ever have walking on my own, perched on Knight's massive shoulders, my thighs hugging either side of his muscular neck. His silver mask occasionally brushes against my inner leg when he turns his head.
From up here, I can see further than the others. In the distance, the mountains that mark Reinmich's southern border shimmer like a mirage. The place I've lived my entire life, and yet one that somehow feels more distant than my mother's homeland, which I never even knew.
And now, here we are, heading to Surhiira. Azarel's homeland.
With each heavy step Knight takes, the same thought echoes.
A prince. He's a fucking prince.
The revelation of Azarel's identity still stings every time it crosses my mind, a wound that refuses to scab over.
"So this is what it's like to be tall," I muse, more to distract myself than anything else. My fingers find their way into Knight's hair, threading through the stark white strands. It's so clean and soft now, I can almost forget the first time I saw him.
Drenched in blood and terrifying beyond words.
A deep rumble vibrates through his body, the sound transferring directly to the insides of my thighs. It's not quite a growl, but something closer to... a purr? A broken purr, but definitely a purr.
"You like that, big guy?" I ask quietly, scratching lightly at his scalp. The purring intensifies. It's strangely intimate, but it's innocent in its own way. Like petting a giant, deadly cat who could tear a person in half without breaking a sweat.
And has. Repeatedly.
"How are you feeling?" I ask, leaning forward slightly to peer down at what I can see of his face—or rather, his mask. "Your back seems better."
He gives a single, slight nod. Not much of an answer, but communication nonetheless. And any communication from him is a win.
Dr. Ryefield's treatments and the time to heal have done him good. He heals much faster than a normal alpha. The wounds on his back have mostly closed, though the fresh scars still look painful.
Almost like the scars that would be left behind if an angel had his wings ripped off.
We've been traveling for hours now, the sun slowly arcing across the poisoned sky.
Behind us, a plume of dust marks the armored vehicle that carries Geo and Raven.
Even if I could coax Knight to ride in a vehicle, he wouldn't have fit anyway.
And it's not like he gets tired. At least, he hasn't yet.
To our right, Nikolai weaves his motorcycle through the terrain.
He hadn't bothered to explain how he acquired it before our departure from the black market, and honestly, I don't want to know.
There's probably one more dead alpha in Geo's labyrinths.
One more soul to add to the tally of bodies I've indirectly accumulated since this journey began.
It's so strange to think I once led a relatively sheltered life. And how strange that I've come to prefer this one.
However much it reeks.
The armored vehicle rolls up alongside us, the engine rumbling like a mechanical beast. Raven leans out the passenger window, golden hair whipping in the hot wind, ridiculously expensive sunglasses perched on his perfect nose.
"Need a rest, goddess?" he calls out, lips curved in that perpetual half-smile of his. "We've been going for hours."
Knight changes his pace to match the vehicle, the movement smooth and considerate. The gesture doesn't escape my notice. How attuned he's become to my comfort, my needs.
"I'm fine," I call back, surprised to find it's true. Despite the punishing heat and the constant sway of Knight's gait, I feel comfortable on his strong shoulders. "I want to keep going. How far is this train station of yours?"
"We should reach it by sunset," Raven replies. "Just in time to board the night train."
"And how much did that cost you?" I ask wryly.
Raven's grin only widens. "A gentleman never reveals his expenses, my dear."
"Since when are you a gentleman?" Geo's gruff voice growls from the driver's seat.
The sound of a motorcycle engine grows louder as Nikolai pulls up on our other side, almost drowning out the purr still rumbling in Knight's chest as I keep playing with his hair.
"How the fuck are we supposed to board a train with a living tank?" Nikolai demands, gesturing at Knight with a jerk of his chin.
Knight's purr shifts instantly to a growl, low and threatening. I run my fingers through his hair again, a silent reminder that I'd prefer him not to eviscerate Nikolai. At least not yet.
"It's a neutral rail system," Raven explains with exaggerated patience, as if speaking to a particularly petulant child.
"One of the few working transport lines that's begun to ferry goods between New Reinmich and Surhiira.
They're not particularly concerned with who or what boards, so long as the tickets are paid for. "
"And you just happen to have tickets?" Nikolai scoffs.
"I have a connection," Raven counters smoothly. "Someone who owes me a favor. They've promised safe boarding for all of us."
"Let me guess—another satisfied client?" Nikolai's tone drips with venom.
He rolls his eyes behind the red-tinted glasses he's wearing again.
The ones that used to be glued to his face before they vanished for a while.
Apparently, Geo had them all along. The idea that Nikolai's glasses almost joined the other relics in Geo's collection is funny to me for some reason. Like some kind of trophy.
Anger flashes across Raven's face. "I haven't had a 'client' in years, but I'd gladly take whoring over spending another moment working for an insufferable bastard such as yourself."
Nikolai's lip curls back in a snarl. "The feeling's mutual, princess."
"Getting on the train is the easy part," Raven continues, ignoring the barb. "Getting into Surhiira proper will be another problem."
I can practically feel the tension crackling between them like static electricity. It's exhausting, this constant alpha posturing. Even Geo, who usually remains above their bickering, tightens his grip on the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white.
"We'll worry about that when we get there," I say firmly, effectively cutting off whatever retort Nikolai was about to hurl. "One step at a time."
Nikolai's eyes narrow, but he doesn't argue. Instead, he revs his motorcycle and speeds ahead, kicking up a cloud of dust that makes Raven cough and hack.
"Asshole," Raven mutters bitterly, glancing back at me. "I don't suppose you could tame him as well as you have our gallant friend here?"
I snort. "I'm an omega, not a miracle worker."
Raven sighs. "Are you sure you don't want to ride in the car? It's air conditioned." He glances at the miniature fan nailed to the dashboard. "Uh… sort of."
"I'm fine out here. Really," I assure him, nodding toward the sun looming directly overhead. "Besides, this is as hot as it gets."
I can tell he wants to argue, but he nods instead, slipping back into the car. At least he knows when to relent, which is more than I can say for Nikolai.
The conversation dies after that, each of us retreating into our own thoughts as we continue our journey across the wasteland. Geo and Raven hang back slightly, leaving me and Knight sandwiched between the armored vehicle and Nikolai up ahead.
I close my eyes against the harsh glare of the sun, letting the rhythm of Knight's steady stride lull me into a meditative state. It gives me too much time to think. About where we're going, about what I'm doing, about the absolute insanity of this endeavor.
This is a lot of risk. A dangerous amount of risk.
Surhiira is notoriously isolationist. Nikolai is right about that, even if it has supposedly opened up a little bit.
And here I am, charging straight toward their borders with four alphas in tow, one of whom couldn't blend in if his life depended on it.
Looking for the people who kidnapped me in the first place, for fuck's sake.
But I need answers. I need to know why Azarel lied. Why he pretended to be a simple defector when he was actually royalty. Why he thought that wasn't something worth mentioning during all those stolen moments, all those whispered promises about our future together.
Would I even trust anything he told me now?
Probably not.
The man I thought I knew doesn't exist. Maybe he never did. He's a prince playing at being a soldier, slumming it with the omega daughter of a Council member for reasons I can't begin to fathom. For all I know, I was just another part of his cover.
I should've known better. Alphas use omegas.
That's the natural order of things in this fucked-up world.
My father used me as a bargaining chip, selling me to Monty without a second thought.
And Monty used me to "entertain" his guests and curry favor with alphas he either wanted to impress or get something out of.
My entire life has been one long string of reasons to believe the very first words I can ever remember my mother speaking to me.
Never trust an alpha, mylita.
Why would Azarel be any different?
And yet...
My gaze drifts back to the vehicle behind us, then to the motorcycle kicking up dust ahead. To the massive alpha whose shoulders I'm currently perched upon.
These four are following me into certain danger.
Why?
I understand Knight, I think. Our connection is a borderline supernatural bond forged through what I'm assuming are shared dreams and nightmares long before we ever met in person.
There's something almost cosmic about it, something I still can't fully comprehend but have learned to accept. Something I find strange peace in.
But the others?