Chapter 1
Chapter
One
THANE
F lakes of snow and ice swirling on the crisp mountain air sting my skin as I stand beside Wraith, our eyes fixed on the winding road leading up to the mansion. The anticipation is a taut wire stretched to the breaking point. We're waiting for the convoy, the key to this whole operation.
And everything hangs on pulling it off perfectly.
Hangs on a fucking serial killer I manage to keep leashed to my side only because he has a chip embedded in the base of his skull.
We are so fucked.
Inside, Valek is preparing for his role, donning the clothes of the financier he's set to impersonate. Even if he doesn't fuck us over intentionally, it's a risky move that hinges entirely on his ability to convincingly slip into the skin of another man.
A man we killed.
But if anyone can pull it off, it's Valek. The man is a chameleon, able to shift personas as easily as most people change clothes. I'm sure he's literally slipped into someone's skin at least once. Just as a treat. He's that kind of psycho.
That's how he got away with literal murder for so long.
Still, the unease coils in my gut like a cobra. Trusting Valek goes against every instinct I have, every hard-earned lesson that's been beaten into me over the years. He's a wildcard, loyal only to himself and his own twisted desires.
And those desires change depending on the fucking weather.
But what choice do I have?
This mission, this chance to infiltrate the heart of the rebel arms dealing network, is too crucial to let personal misgivings get in the way. So I grit my teeth and watch as Valek emerges from the mansion, transformed.
Gone is the brutal enforcer, the sadistic killer who revels in drinking blood and devising creative ways to inflict pain. In his place stands a man of wealth and taste, all tailored lines and easy smiles. Even the way he moves is different, a languid grace that belies the unhinged violence lurking beneath the surface.
Impressive.
Disturbing.
He catches my eye, a flicker of that familiar dark amusement dancing in his gaze making it clear he can sense my unease. A silent taunt, a challenge. I can practically hear him purring in my ear.
Don't fuck this up, boss.
I clench my jaw, giving a minute nod in return. Likewise, asshole.
My brother shifts beside me, a low growl rumbling in his chest. I glance at him, taking in the tense set of his shoulders, the way his fingers twitch toward the combat knife at his belt. He's on edge, even more so than usual.
And I can't blame him. None of us have our masks on right now to prevent suspicion from the convoy. I'd assumed he would just growl at me and tell me no with every sign that exists, but instead, he said nothing and put on a tattered scarf instead. He keeps adjusting it, pulling it up higher to cover his ruined lower face every time it moves even an inch, anxiety rolling off him in waves.
And for once, he's not just on edge because someone might see his face.
It's because of her.
Ivy.
Her name whispers through my mind like a prayer, a talisman against the impending chaos. She's up there, sequestered away with Plague and Whiskey as her guardians. The suppressant should be masking her scent, keeping her hidden from any prying noses.
But the risk is still there, a constant nagging worry at the back of my skull. If they catch even the slightest whiff of her scent and realize there's an omega here—an omega who was very recently in heat—all bets are off.
And so is the mission.
Not a single one of us will prioritize Valek's cover over her.
Not even Valek.
I can see it in the way he looks at her, but far from putting me at ease, it gives me even more reason to distrust him. The rest of us are pack because we choose to be, but him…
If he decides she's a resource he wants all to himself, I wouldn't put it past him to put a bullet in every one of our skulls to secure it.
I shake my head, banishing the thought before it can fully form. I can't afford to be distracted, not now. Not when everything is riding on this one gambit.
The roar of engines shatters the tense silence, a plume of snow and icy dust rising in the distance. The convoy, right on schedule.
I feel more than see Wraith tense, since my own eyes are locked ahead as we all fall into position. Valek remains loose and easy, that charming smile never wavering as the vehicles pull up and the leader steps out.
Nikolai.
He's impossible to miss in a thick blood-red overcoat that stands out like a splash of blood on fresh fallen snow, the collar and long V-shaped vent in the back flapping in the frigid wind. A jagged scar runs diagonally across his harsh features from the left side of his forehead to the right side of his mouth, tugging the corner of his lips into a permanent snarl.
His lips twist into a cruel smirk when he comes to stand before us. His cold gunmetal gray eyes, as Vrissian in origin as his choppy white undercut, appraise us briefly through round red lenses—an unnecessarily flashy defense against the glare from the snow—with the disinterest of a cobra who's spit in death's face too many times to give a shit.
And he clearly doesn't, because why the hell else would he be wearing a coat you can see from miles away?
He can't be older than his late twenties, but he still radiates power and arrogance, the kind of alpha who's used to taking what he wants and crushing anyone who gets in his way.
And judging from that scar, he's had no shortage of enemies.
He strides up to Valek, a predator sizing up his prey. I hold my breath, every muscle coiled and ready to spring into action if this all goes south.
But Valek just grins, spreading his arms wide in welcome as he greets Nikolai in flawless native Vrissian. He had joked he might be rusty, but the words roll off his tongue like honey, smooth and sweet. I don't understand a word of it, but I can read the body language well enough.
All smiles and sunshine, like two old friends meeting for a drink.
Nikolai clasps Valek's shoulder, his answering grin just as wide and false. They fall into step, heading toward the guest house as they converse in rapid-fire bursts of that strong yet melodic tongue.
And just like that, the plan is in motion.
I force myself to hang back, to let Valek take the lead as we follow in their wake with Nikolai's men surrounding us like a pack of wolves. It grates against every instinct I have, every fiber of my being that screams to be the one in control.
But I shove it down, locking it away.
This is Valek's show—at least for now.
As we enter the guest house, I can't help but dart a glance back at the mansion. Somewhere up there, Ivy is waiting, hidden away like a precious treasure. The urge to go to her, to reassure myself of her safety, is a physical ache in my chest.
But I can't. Not yet.
The best thing I can do for her right now is to pretend like she doesn't even exist.
Valek leads us into the guest house's sitting room, all plush furnishings and glittering chandeliers. He moves through the space like he owns it, pouring drinks and playing the gracious host with an ease that's almost unsettling. It's a mask, I know, but damn if it isn't a convincing one.
Nikolai and his men settle in, the underlings' laughter booming off the high ceilings as they clink glasses and toast to their success. Nikolai himself is much less of a barbarian, moving even more gracefully than the already catlike serial killer the entire plan hinges on.
I hover at the edges, every sense on high alert for any hint of trouble. Wraith is a silent shadow at my side, his frigid eyes never leaving Valek even as he reaches up again to check the position of his scarf.
Not just because Wraith hates anyone to catch a glimpse of his scars, either, but because the sight of him unmasked is shocking enough that there's no way it wouldn't set off the convoy's suspicion. I'm sure they've heard rumors that one of the Ghosts is a monster. His actual face is more of a red flag than our masks.
It's a fragile tightrope, this game of deception and double-cross. One wrong move and it would all come crashing down around us. But Valek navigates it with the skill of a master, always seeming to know just what to say, what strings to pull.
"I must say, my friend, when I heard your post was nestled in the peaks of the Redtooth Mountains, I had my doubts," Nikolai says, casting a pointed glance around our lavish surroundings. At least he's finally speaking in a language I can understand. "But this is exquisite."
"It does the job well enough, and the location is convenient with its proximity to the mines," Valek says, pouring his guest another round. "I'm only sorry I can't accommodate you in the main house. The winter has not been kind, and you know how it is trying to find decent building materials with all the sanctions that have been imposed on anyone who isn't born and bred in Reinmich."
Nikolai puffs air through his nose in acknowledgment, taking the refilled shot glass. "What is it they say? Ah, yes— preaching to the choir . But as inconvenient as those petty bastards are, their squabbles do make for good business, do they not?"
Valek's eyes light up with wicked delight that matches the wolfish grin on his face and he raises his own glass. 'That they do."
As the hours drag on and the liquor flows, Nikolai grows more boisterous, more loose-lipped. He brags about his exploits, the Vrissian politicians he has in his pocket, the "shipments" he's moved across enemy lines. It's all couched in vague terms and knowing winks, but the implications are clear enough.
This man is a snake, a viper in human skin.
And we're sitting here, drinking and pretending to be his friends .
It makes my skin crawl. My fingers itch for my gun. But I force myself to smile, to nod along like I'm just another cog in his machine every time he gives me a condescending sneer.
Finally, as the night grows long and the men grow restless, Nikolai leans back in his seat and pins Valek with a sharp look. "Shall we get down to business, then?" he asks, the words a challenge and a command all in one.
Valek just smiles, that same easy grin. "Of course," he purrs, nodding to me. "Luke, fetch our payment from the study."
I flinch at the false name he's assigned me.
Luke .
Just like the commanding officer I killed, earning myself a dishonorable discharge from the official branch of the military and a fast track to leading this pack of mismatched alphas. He's trying to get under my skin, a rare opportunity afforded to him by the fact that I can't let the act drop.
I nod curtly, already rising to my feet. It's a convenient excuse, a chance to slip away and check on the others. To make sure Ivy is still safe. Still hidden.
I make my way back to the mansion, my boots crunching in the snow and then echoing on the polished wood. As soon as I walk past the threshold, I notice it.
Or rather, the lack of it.
Ivy's scent, the intoxicating aroma that once seemed to blanket every inch of this house, is all but gone. The suppressors in the air vents worked their magic. It's a relief, but we're still nowhere near out of the woods yet.
Not until the devil is out of the territory entirely.
I walk past the study and straight for the stairs leading up to Ivy's room. Outside the door, Plague and Whiskey stand conversing in hushed tones, their heads bent together over a map in Whiskey's huge hand. The fact that they're not bickering is proof enough of the severity of the situation we're in.
"Hey, boss man," Whiskey says, clearly surprised to see me as he lifts his head.
"How is it going down there?" Plague asks, his voice muffled by that ever-present mask.
I blow out a breath, running a hand through my shaggy hair. "As well as can be expected," I mutter. "Valek's got them eating out of his hand, for now. But Nikolai... there's something off about him."
Whiskey snorts, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest. "That's because he's a slimy piece of shit," he drawls. "I say we just take them all out now, be done with it."
"And blow our one chance at infiltrating their operation?" I counter, shaking my head. "Not happening. Not the least of all because the Council will jump straight to blaming Ivy. We stick to the plan."
"He's right for once," Plague muses. "They clearly sent her on this mission to test us. If we blow it, who knows what they'll do?"
The implication is clear. If they try to take her from us, the resulting chaos will make the nuclear war that wrecked damn near everything but Reinmich and a few swaths of Vrissia look like a prelude. It may be inevitable, but I'd rather have time to prepare.
"Fine," Whiskey grumbles, his gaze flicking to the door. "But if that fucker so much as looks at Ivy wrong..."
"He won't," I say, the words a vow and a threat all in one. "She's safe. We'll make sure of it."
He holds my gaze for a long moment, uncharacteristically intense. Finally, he nods, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. "Still don't like it."
"None of us do," Plague murmurs to him, his voice low and grim. "But Thane's right. We have to see this through."
I let out a slow breath, some of the weight lifting from my chest. They're with me, even if every instinct is screaming at us to grab Ivy and run, to leave this whole mess behind.
"I'll check on Ivy," I mutter, already moving toward the door. "You two stay here, keep an eye on things."
They nod, falling into position as I approach the door. I pause outside, my hand hovering over the knob. I can hear her breathing on the other side, slow and steady. Calm.
She's safe. She's alive.
The mantra repeats in my head as I ease the door open, my breath catching in my throat at the sight of her. She's curled up in her nest, a tangle of blankets and pillows that still carry the faintest traces of her scent. Honeysuckle and sunlight, warm and sweet.
My own personal taste of heaven.
She stirs as I approach, those striking aquamarine eyes blinking open. "Thane?" she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep. Still exhausted from her heat. "What's happening?"
"Not much," I say, crouching down beside her. "Everything's fine. Just checking in."
She frowns, pushing herself up on her elbows. "The convoy?"
"In the guest house," I confirm, reaching out to brush a stray lock of auburn hair away from her cheek. It's a risk, considering I don't know how she's going to react to us now that she's no longer in heat, but she doesn't flinch away, so I take that as a small victory. "Valek's got them under control."
Her brow furrows, a flicker of uncertainty darting through her gaze. "Where's Wraith?"
"With Valek and the convoy," I reply.
She watches me carefully. "What if something happens?"
"Then we'll handle it," I vow. "We won't let anything happen to you, Ivy. I promise."
She keeps searching my face, those sea glass eyes seeming to pierce straight through to my soul. Finally, she nods, leaning slightly into my touch. "I believe you," she says quietly. As if she doesn't want to say that at all.
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from my lungs, even if she didn't say she trusted me. Knowing her, I'm sure that was a conscious word choice, but still. The fact that she's even willing to give any of us a chance at all after what's been done to her …
It humbles me, even as it terrifies me.
Because the only thing that scares me as much as losing her is failing her.
I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her brow. "Rest now," I murmur. "I'll be back soon."
She nods, already sinking back into the pillows as her eyes flutter closed. I linger for a moment longer, just watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. Memorizing every detail, every curve and hollow.
Mine.
Ours.
The thought is a primal growl, a possessive need that sinks its claws deep into my chest. I want to stay, to wrap myself around her and shield her from the world.
But I can't. Not yet.
With a final, lingering glance, I tear myself away and slip back out into the hall. Whiskey and Plague are still there, but Plague has a briefcase in his gloved hand now.
"She's fine," I say, answering their unspoken question. "Sleeping."
They nod, some of the tension easing from their shoulders.
"Here," Plague says, his glove creaking as he hands me the briefcase. "The sooner these assholes get their money, the sooner they can be on their way."
I grunt an acknowledgment, my hand wrapping around the handle of the suitcase. "You two stay with Ivy. Anything seems off, you get her out. Understand?"
They nod, their eyes hard as flint. "With our lives," Plague vows.
Whiskey grins, but it doesn't reach his eyes like usual. "And theirs, if it comes to it. If there's any fun left for us after Wraith's twisted 'em all into human balloon animals."
I nod, turning on my heel and striding out, the suitcase a lead weight in my hand.
Time to get this over with.
The guest house's sitting room is exactly as I left it, the air thick with the stench of alcohol and alpha pheromones. Nikolai and his men are sprawled on the plush couches, still laughing and shooting the shit in Vrissian. Seems like "fuck" is a universal word, though.
Valek sits at the center of it all, a king holding court. He looks up as I enter, cocking one eyebrow in a pointed gesture as if to say, Well?
I drop the suitcase onto the table, the heavy thud cutting through the revelry like a gunshot. "As requested," I say, my voice flat and cold.
Valek gestures carelessly to the suitcase with one hand, bringing his drink to his lips with the other.
Nikolai leans forward, his silver eyes gleaming with avarice as he flips the latches and peers inside. Stacks of crisp unmarked bills, more money than most people will see in a lifetime. Especially now that virtually everyone still alive survives on scraps.
"Looks like it's all here," Nikolai says, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Excellent."
He stands, raising his glass in a toast. "To our gracious host. And to the Vrissian empire, rising from the ashes to crush those Council bastards once and for all!" He pauses, a wry twist to his scarred upper lip. "Or at least to make us all disgustingly rich in trying."
The room erupts in cheers, the men slamming their glasses together in a raucous display of solidarity. But beneath the surface, I can feel the tension, the unease that ripples through the room like a living thing. Something's off. They're too eager, too quick to celebrate.
I catch Valek's eye, a silent question in my gaze. Are they buying it ?
He gives a minute shake of his head, his lips thinning into a hard line.
The implication is clear.
We're on borrowed time.
Fuck .
We need to wrap this up and get them out of here before they start asking too many questions. Before they realize that the man they're toasting with is nothing more than a mask.
After a few more rounds, Valek clears his throat, drawing their attention. "Well, gentlemen," he says with an easy smile, his accent bleeding into his words even more than usual. "It's been a pleasure doing business with brothers and friends. But I'm afraid we have other matters to attend to this evening."
Nikolai's gaze sharpens, a flicker of suspicion darting through those cold eyes even behind the round lenses of his tinted glasses. "Leaving so soon?" he asks, his voice deceptively mild. "And here I thought Vrissian hospitality demanded we stay the night. And those mountain roads are so treacherous."
Valek tenses, a muscle ticking in his jaw. I can practically see the gears turning in his head, the calculations whirring behind those dead eyes .
Finally, Valek smiles. "Of course, of course. Forgive my manners, my friend. It's been a long day, and I'm afraid these brutes have rubbed off on me." He wrinkles the side of his nose in my direction, and I'm not convinced that's part of his act. "I only meant it's a shame I won't be able to continue entertaining you this evening."
Nikolai watches him, stone-faced, unreadable.
Valek spreads his hands, a gesture of welcome that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Of course you're more than welcome to stay the night and drink your fill. What kind of host would I be to turn you out into the cold?"
Nikolai's answering grin is sharp, predatory. "Most kind of you, my friend. We accept your gracious offer."
Yeah, Valek is right.
This asshole is onto something.
I'm just not sure what he's figured out, and there's no point in showing our hand before he's called our bluff. And now we're stuck with them for the night, a pack of wolves circling us and waiting for the chance to rip out our throats.
My mind races, scrambling for a plan, for some way to salvage this rapidly deteriorating situation. But I come up blank, every option seeming worse than the last.
We're outnumbered, outgunned, and rapidly running out of time.
I don't think even Wraith can take them all out.
Valek inclines his head. "If you have need of anything, please don't hesitate to radio. My men will be happy to assist you."
"We'll be leaving in the morning," Nikolai assures him. "But before you go, Prytel..."
Valek pauses, his hand on the door. "Yes?"
Nikolai's grin widens, a flash of white teeth in the dim light. "Give my regards to the little lady, won't you?"
The words hit me like a punch to the gut.
He knows.
Somehow, he knows about Ivy.
Wraith tenses beside me, his massive body going rigid and pupils blowing wide with the urge to rip Nikolai apart. My own hand twitches for my gun. I could have it in my hands in a flash, before the others can even react.
But Valek doesn't so much as blink. "Little lady?" he echoes, his voice carefully neutral.
Nikolai chuckles, a low, menacing sound that sets my teeth on edge. "Come now, Prytel. It's clear you have an omega tucked away somewhere in that big, 'empty' mansion of yours. Why else would you and your men be so on edge all evening?"
He spreads his rough palms, a gesture of mock innocence. "Not that I blame you, of course. It's only natural for an alpha to keep an omega. And as any true Vrissian male would, you protect what is yours."
He doesn't need to say the words. It's clear enough.
I know your weakness.
I know how to hurt you.
Valek smiles, a thin, brittle grimace that doesn't reach his eyes. "I'll be sure to give her your regards," he says, his voice dripping with false sincerity. "Goodnight, gentlemen."
And with that, we're gone, the door clicking shut behind us with a finality that echoes in the sudden silence, Wraith close on my heels. I let out a ragged breath as the adrenaline slamming through my veins comes to a head, leaving me dizzy and sick.
"Damn, you Vrissian fuckers know how to party," I mutter.
Valek blows a puff of air through his nose. "We should kill them," he says, his voice low and urgent as we make our way back to the main house. "Nikolai, at least. He is too dangerous to leave alive."
Wraith grunts in agreement. It's rare he shares an opinion on anything mission related, let alone one that backs up Valek.
I hesitate, torn between the desire to protect Ivy at all costs and the knowledge that blowing our cover will make her vulnerable not only to Nikolai but the entire Council. I like our odds against these Vrissian outlaws better than a whole damn army. One I had a large hand in training.
"No," I say, the word bitter on my tongue. "We stick to the plan. But someone needs to be watching the guest house at all times. We can't let our guard down, not for a second."
Valek nods, his jaw tight. "Agreed. I'll take first watch."
I clap him on the shoulder, a silent acknowledgment of the shaky trust that binds us. Trust he's earned after tonight. "I'll relieve you in a few hours. In the meantime, I need to check on Ivy again."
He gives a curt nod, already moving toward the guest house with a predator's grace. I watch him go, a sense of unease coiling in my gut.
This is far from over.
And something tells me the worst is yet to come .
I turn and make my way back to the mansion with Wraith keeping pace beside me, low growls emanating from his tense body. My mind is already racing with contingency plans and worst-case scenarios. But beneath it all, there's only one thought, one driving need that consumes me utterly.
Protect Ivy.
No matter what the cost.