Page 120 of Unhinged Alphas

"Fuck," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. "FUCK!"

I want to scream. I want to charge down there and tear that place apart with my bare hands. But I know it's suicide. We're outnumbered, outgunned, and have no idea what we're walking into.

"What's the play?" I ask, turning to Thane. I hate how desperate I sound, but I can't help it. The thought of Ivy in there, alone and scared, with them doing God knows what to her, is tearing me apart.

Thane's face is grim, his eyes hard as he surveysthe facility. "We need more intel. We can't go in blind."

"So what, we just sit here with our thumbs up our asses?" I snarl, my temper flaring again.

"No," Plague interjects, his voice eerily calm. "We gather information. We watch their patrol patterns, look for weaknesses in their security so we can knock off a couple of soldiers for their uniforms. Then we infiltrate and plan our assault."

Thane gives a stiff nod. "It's our only choice."

I curl my lip at our "leader," a dangerous growl rumbling in my chest. For a moment, I consider knocking his fucking lights out. My hands curl at my sides, nails biting into my rough palms. He'd look pretty with a nice fist-sized crater taking up the spot where his stupid mouth is right now.

But Ivy needs us alive.

If we go in there right now, we'll die.

And our omega might suffer a fate even worse than death.

"Fine," I grit out, forcing myself to breathe instead of caving Thane's face in. "But we better make it quick. I don't like the idea of leaving her in there any longer than we have to."

Thane nods, his expression softening slightly. "We'll get her back, Whiskey. I promise. If it's the last thing we do."

I turn back to the facility, my eyes boring into the cold, unforgiving walls. Somewhere in there, Ivy's waiting for us. Scared, alone, probably wondering if we're going to abandon her.

"Hold on, sweetheart," I mutter under my breath. "We're comin'."

Chapter

Twenty-Six

VALEK

The needle slides out of my arm, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. I grit my teeth, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing me scream. The scientists mutter to each other in rapid-fire Vrissian, their words a jumble of medical jargon and excited exclamations.

"Remarkable," one of them says, leaning in close. His breath reeks of coffee and cigarettes. "The subject's pain tolerance has increased exponentially since the last trial."

I want to spit in his face, to feel his nose crunch under my fist. But my muscles won't obey. Whatever they've pumped into me has left me more or less paralyzed, a prisoner in my own body.

"Initiating phase two," another scientist announces.

The searing agony of another thick needle, this one straight into my jugular vein, barely registers. Pain is an old friend, one I've danced with for years.

But this... this is different.

The drugs coursing through my veins feel like liquid fire, burning away the last vestiges of humanity I cling to. I want to scream, to tear myself free from these restraints and paint the walls with the blood of these fucking bastards.

But my body won't obey.

I'm trapped, a prisoner in my own flesh and bone.

"Fascinating," one of the scientists mutters, his accent thick. "The cellular regeneration rate has increased as well."

I turn my head, fighting against the paralysis. My eyes lock onto the scientist's face. He flinches, taking a step back.

Good. He should be afraid.