Chapter 43 – AZAREL #2
I duck as a boot, then a knife, slice through the air where my head was a moment before. Valek lands beside me with all the fluid grace of a panther. He gives me a wolfish grin, silver eyes gleaming just as intensely as the wicked curved blade in his grip.
"You know," Valek drawls, "I thought this evening would just be the usual boring patrol. Brotherly bonding and all that. But this? This is much more entertaining."
I reply with a swift combination. Jab, cross, hook. He deflects the first two but the third catches him in the jaw, snapping his head back. Before I can press the advantage, Wraith's massive hand closes around my throat from behind.
I drive my elbow back, feeling ribs crack under the blow. Any normal man would be on the ground. But Wraith isn't normal. His grip only tightens as he hauls me off my feet with a deep growl of exertion, the bones of my neck grinding together.
Black spots dance at the edges of my vision as Valek swaggers up to us, swiping blood from his split lip with the side of his thumb. "Well, this is fun and all, but we should probably call it in." He produces a radio, his grin never wavering. "We have a fucking situation."
Static crackles, then a familiar voice responds. My brother. Rage curls my lip at the sound of his voice. " What do you mean, a situation? "
Valek snarls into the radio. "It's your fucking brother !"
I kick back with a snarl, my boot connecting with Wraith's kneecap. The joint gives with a sickening pop, and at the same time, I slam the back of my skull into his nose with every ounce of strength I possess.
There's a satisfying crunch of cartilage. Hot blood sprays across the back of my head. Wraith's grip finally loosens as he staggers back with a growl that's more surprised than hurt despite the rivers of crimson blood painting his razor-sharp teeth.
Some of it may even be mine. The back of my head is soaked, my hair matted with more blood than what's trickling from Wraith's nose. Must have cut myself on his teeth.
Not that it matters.
This is nothing compared to what I've endured for her .
Sudden movement to the left draws my eye. The fisherman staggers out of the wheelhouse, one hand pressed to a gash on his temple where he hit the wheel during the collision. In his other hand, he clutches a weathered revolver.
At first, the gun is trained on me. But when the fisherman's bleary eyes dart to Wraith and he takes in the full horror of the alpha's mangled features, he swings the gun on Wraith instead.
"A… a monster," the fisherman chokes out, the gun trembling violently in his grip.
Wraith's entire demeanor shifts. His massive frame goes rigid, shoulders hunching as one hand flies up to cover what remains of his face. A sound rips from his throat—not a growl this time, but something raw and wounded.
The distraction costs him. I dive for my fallen gun, fingers brushing cold metal before Valek's boot connects with the weapon, sending it skittering across the deck. His other foot catches me in the ribs, driving the air from my lungs.
"Not so fast, pretty boy." Valek's blade flashes in the moonlight as he brings it down in a vicious arc.
I roll, the knife missing my throat by inches and sticking into the deck. My elbow catches him behind the knee as I come up, dropping him. But before I can press the advantage, a massive hand closes around my ankle.
Wraith hauls me backward like I weigh nothing, his earlier vulnerability replaced by blind rage. I twist in his grip, driving my other heel into his hand, breaking his hold.
I spring to my feet, but both Ghosts are already circling me again. The fisherman's gun barks once, twice. Both shots go wide, pinging off metal. Valek's head snaps toward the sound, silver eyes narrowing.
"Oh look, a volunteer." His grin is all teeth. "I do love an audience."
But before any of us can move, a familiar voice cuts through the chaos.
" Enough! "
The command cracks across the deck like a whip.
My brother stands at the rail of a sleek speedboat that's pulled alongside us, his expression thunderous. Whiskey stands beside him with a boot propped up on the bow, looking far too amused by the situation.
"Where the fuck is Thane?" Valek demands.
Whiskey's grin widens. "Oh, he's a little... tied up with Ivy at the moment, if you know what I mean."
Valek's silver eyes narrow. "Are you telling me he's balls deep while we're out here dealing with Asshole Rail?"
" Azarel ," I growl, my lip curling in irritation at his "creative" pronunciation.
"Yes, that's your name. Would you like a gold star?" Valek snaps at me, spitting blood into the water.
I don't have time for this. "Where is she?"
"Who?" Whiskey asks me innocently.
" Cosima ." Her name comes out as a snarl. "Where. Is. She?"
Every muscle in my body screams with the effort of holding back. Of not tearing my brother and his pack of mongrels limb from limb.
But I must maintain control.
For her.
Always for her.
If only because I need information.
My brother just watches me with that insufferable calm that's always defined him. Even now, even after everything, he maintains that carefully constructed mask of control.
It makes my blood boil.
"Answer me!" I snarl, taking a threatening step toward him. Wraith's growl deepens to a dangerous pitch, but I ignore him. My focus is solely on my brother.
"We moved her somewhere safe," my brother says finally, his voice maddeningly even. "That's all."
" Safe ?" I bark out a harsh laugh. "Since when do you care about anyone's safety but your own?"
Something unreadable flickers in his pale blue eyes, but his expression remains neutral. "Can you blame me? You haven't exactly been reliable, brother ."
" She's my mate !" I roar.
The effect is immediate. They all go completely still, watching me. But it's my brother's reaction I focus on. The slight widening of his eyes. The almost imperceptible stiffness in his shoulders.
After our last encounter, I'm certain he already suspected as much, but hearing something aloud is always a different matter. And I've never been the type to discuss romance with family. We have that in common.
Whiskey breaks the heavy silence with a low whistle. "Well shit," he drawls casually from his position on my brother's boat. "He's got a good point there."
I watch as something unspoken passes between my brother and Whiskey. Some strange silent communication born of years fighting side by side. Or from whatever strange bond they share. My brother's jaw works, the muscle twitching beneath his skin as he visibly wrestles with himself.
Finally, he lets out a long breath. "She's at the airfield closest to the black market," he says, each word seeming to cost him. "With Nikolai Vlakov. You can't miss it."
Wraith's head snaps toward him, surprise evident enough in his low growl even though he isn't capable of much expression. I stare at my brother as well, trying to process what he's just told me.
The airfield. Nikolai Vlakov.
After all this time hunting, the answer comes so easily?
Too easily.
"Why tell me this now?" I demand, my voice harsh with suspicion.
"His boyfriend gave him the puppy eyes," Valek drawls, cleaning blood from his knife with casual disinterest. His silver eyes glitter with malicious amusement. "Incredible how much control you can exert over an alpha whose cock you?—"
I cut him off with a sharp snarl. "I do not want to hear that."
Whiskey's deep laugh rolls across the water. "What's wrong, bro? Can't handle knowing your baby brother's getting his?—"
"Finish that sentence and I will throw you overboard," my brother snaps at him, but there's no real anger in his voice. If anything, he sounds vaguely irritated at the most.
"I don't have time for this," I growl. "If you're lying…"
"I'm not, brother."
I study him for a long moment, searching for any sign of deception. But all I see is that same careful mask he's always worn. The one that hides everything that matters.
"Very well." I turn away, already stalking toward the wheelhouse where the sniveling fisherman is hiding again.
My brother's voice cuts through the wind again. "Azarel."
I pause at the wheelhouse door, not turning.
"Be careful," he adds quietly.
Something unspoken hangs between us. Years of shared blood and betrayal. A chasm too wide to cross with mere words.
I glance over my shoulder. For a moment, my brother looks like he wants to say more. His pale blue eyes hold mine, searching. But whatever he sees there makes him look away first.
"You always were terrible at goodbyes," I say.
"Come on, Plague." Whiskey's voice breaks the tension as he drapes an arm around my brother's shoulders. "The sun's almost up and he's gotta go get his girl." He flashes me that insufferable grin. "Try not to die, asshole. Family reunions are so much more fun when everyone's breathing."
I turn away without responding, shoving the fisherman toward the wheel. Behind me, I hear Valek's laughter fading and Wraith growling in response as their boats pull away into the darkness.
The sun bleeds red across the horizon as we cut through the waves.
Soon, Cosima.
Soon, you'll be safe in my arms again.
And may the goddess help anyone who stands in my way.