21. Ivy #2
Another stitch. Another flinch. His breathing goes ragged and he's holding me so tight I feel my bones creaking.
The purr in my chest deepens, rumbling through his body.
I can feel it through his back where I'm clutching him through his jersey, and slowly but surely, his breathing begins to even out again.
"Almost done," Plague murmurs. "Two more."
Two more stitches. Then Plague steps back, snapping off his gloves.
"Done. Keep it clean."
Wraith's arms crush me harder against him and I let him, purring as much as I can, petting his hair and nuzzling his ear. His death grip on my back loosens into something closer to an embrace. He's checking out. I let him do that, too.
I catch movement in my peripheral vision and glance toward the door. Valek has positioned himself there, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed.
Standing guard.
He did his part. He removed Wade from the equation and delivered me to Wraith. Now he's watching the entrance rather than the scene, his silver eyes scanning the hallway beyond with strange, casual indifference.
The door bangs open.
Police and league officials in sharp suits swarm in. There's no stopping them, so no one tries, but the pack shifts automatically, forming a loose protective formation around me and Wraith. Whiskey moves to block the most direct path. Plague follows suit, lingering watchfully between us.
Wraith hasn't moved his face from my neck, and every time someone new enters the room, I feel him tense up. He's running on fumes. I can feel it in the way his massive body sags against mine, all that power drained dry.
And Valek stays where he is, apart from our pack but between them and the cops.
One of the cops hangs back near the door, hand resting on his holster, eyes fixed on Wraith like he's calculating threat levels.
But the cops are the real threat here. I know how dangerous and abusive they are to ferals. I cling tighter to Wraith, perfectly willing to use myself as a human shield if I have to.
Wraith curls tighter around me, pressing his face harder into my neck like he can disappear if he just stops existing hard enough.
One of the officials clears his throat. "We need to ask some questions."
Thane's jaw works. "Can it wait?"
"I'm afraid not." The official's eyes land on me—still perched in Wraith's lap, blood smeared across my throat, his arms locked around me—and he stops dead.
"That's Ivy Byrne." The official's voice pitches up. "That's Wade Kelly's missing fucking fiancée." He takes a step forward like he's going to pull me off Wraith's lap, and three alpha growls fill the room simultaneously. Wraith is silent, still checked out, but he tenses.
The official freezes.
"She's fine," Thane says, stepping forward. "She's with us. She's not in danger."
The official doesn't look convinced. His eyes keep darting between me and Wraith like he's waiting for me to signal for help. Like he can't fathom why Wade Kelly's omega would be curled up willingly in the lap of the feral alpha who just tore Wade apart.
I stare back at him and don't move.
It takes him a long moment to collect himself. "Miss Byrne. Are you here of your own free will?"
I hear the implication in his careful tone.
What are you doing with a feral alpha?
"Yes. Wraith is my mate. I'm his scent match." I gesture toward the rest of the pack. "And theirs. All of them. The Ghosts are my mates."
The official's pen scratches against his clipboard. "And Wade Kelly…?"
"My former fiancé," I say bitterly. "Not my mate. I left him."
More scratching. More questions. The nature of my departure. How long I've been with the Ghosts. Whether I witnessed tonight's altercation.
I answer everything honestly. There's no point hiding anything now.
They confirm what I already suspected. Alpha instinct defense. Wade attacked first—the stick to Wraith's face, multiple times, before the mauling. Video evidence supports it. Wraith isn't going to be arrested.
The tension in the room eases, but only slightly.
Then the official turns to Valek.
"Mr. Carter."
Valek doesn't move from his position by the door. Doesn't even look at the man addressing him.
"You're not pack," the official continues, his tone hardening. "The victim was already incapacitated when you assaulted him."
Silence.
"You're looking at aggravated assault charges and permanent suspension from the league. Unless you can provide legal justification for your actions."
Valek's jaw works. His silver eyes stay fixed on the wall, empty and distant. And I realize, with a cold shock, that he's not going to defend himself.
He's just going to let them take him.
The words leave my mouth before I even realize I'm speaking.
"Valek is my scent match, too."
The room freezes.
Wraith goes still beneath me, a confused rumble vibrating through his chest. Whiskey's mouth drops open. Thane scrubs a hand over his face, the gesture of a man who keeps getting new problems stacked on old ones. Plague gives me a completely blank stare like someone ripped the plug out of a robot.
"Wait, what the fuck?" Whiskey manages.
I don't look at any of them. I keep my eyes on the official, my voice steady despite the chaos erupting in my chest.
"I just found out today." The lie comes easier than it should. "I would have told the rest of the pack before, but there wasn't exactly an opportunity. What with the game and everything, considering I had to hide from my fucking ex."
I don't know why I said it. And I don't know if Valek almost put Wade in the ground for his own vendetta or for me.
But I feel in my heart of hearts it was for me.
The official's eyes narrow. "You're claiming Mr. Carter as a scent match?"
"I am."
"Mr. Carter? Is this true?"
Valek isn't looking at me. His jaw is still working, the muscle jumping beneath his skin. Finally, he draws in a deep, ragged breath and meets the official's eyes.
"Yes," he says flatly.
Beneath me, Wraith rumbles low in his chest again. His arms are still wrapped around me, but his eyes—bloodshot enough they look bluer than ever—lock on Valek with lingering feral intensity.
"Holy. Fucking. Shit," Whiskey breathes.
For once, no follow-up joke.
Thane just sighs, heavy and bone-deep. "Of course he is."
The officials exchange surprised glances. More scratching on clipboards. Then the lead one nods, apparently satisfied.
"We'll need you to stay in town. All of you. There's a shitload of paperwork to process and formal statements." He tucks the clipboard under his arm. "But for now, we're done here."
They file out, suits and uniforms disappearing through the door, leaving the locker room suddenly, oppressively quiet.
Valek pushes off from the wall.
"Hold it."
Thane's voice stops him at the door. Valek doesn't turn around.
"Is it true?" Thane's not looking at him. He's looking at me. "Is he actually your scent match, or did you just lie to the cops to save his ass?"
I open my mouth to explain.
It was instinct. I was protecting him. It didn't mean—
Then Valek turns.
His silver eyes meet mine across the room. And whatever I see in them makes the words die in my throat.
Then he's gone, crossing the room in two long strides and disappearing through the door without looking back.
"Ivy?" Thane presses.
I close my mouth.
What if it wasn't a fucking lie at all?