Page 135 of Unhinged Alphas

My chest constricts, a vise crushing my ribs. I want to roar, to charge forward and rip those chains apart with my bare hands. But I can't move. Can't breathe. Can't do a damn thing but watch as they drag him past like a broken animal.

Wraith's head hangs low, his chin nearly touching his chest. Even from here, I can see the defeat in the slump of his shoulders, the drag of his feet. This isn't the fierce warrior I know. This is a shell, hollowed out and discarded.

"Keep moving, freak," one of the guards snarls, yanking on the chain. Wraith stumbles, a low growl rumbling from his chest. It's a pathetic sound,nothing like the earth-shaking roars I've heard him unleash in battle.

I clench my fists so tight I feel my nails break skin. Blood wells in my palms, hot and sticky. The pain is grounding, reminding me why we're here. Why I can't blow our cover.

But fuck, it's hard to remember when every instinct screams at me to act.

"You think it'll react this time?" another guard asks, prodding Wraith with the butt of his rifle. "Last test was a bust."

"Who cares?" the first guard laughs. "Long as we get paid to poke the beast, I'm happy."

They pass within arm's reach. I could reach out and snap their necks before they even realized what was happening. It would be so easy. So satisfying.

I don't move.

Wraith's head never lifts. His ruined face and nose are so bloody, I'm assuming that's why he can't even smell us. He doesn't see me standing here, mere feet away. Doesn't know his pack is so close. That we're here to save Ivy, and him, too.

And I can't tell him.

The guards lead him around the corner, their voices fading as they discuss what new torturesawait my brother. Each word is a knife in my gut, twisting deeper with every step they take.

I want to tear this whole fucking lab apart with my bare hands.

But I don't. I can't.

Because we have a mission. Because we have an omega to protect. Because blowing our cover now means condemning Wraith to an even worse fate.

Logic doesn't make it any easier to swallow.

"Soldier," Plague's voice cuts through the haze of rage clouding my mind. His tone is clipped, professional. The perfect scientist. "We should continue our inspection."

I turn to face him, struggling to keep my expression neutral. His pale blue eyes give nothing away. But I can smell the tension rolling off him in waves. He saw. He knows.

"Of course, Doctor," I manage to mutter.

Plague nods curtly and starts down the next corridor, heading in the opposite direction. I fall into step behind him, Whiskey bringing up the rear. Every step feels like I'm wading through quicksand, my boots impossibly heavy.

We turn the corner, leaving the echo of Wraith's chains behind us. But the sound follows me, rattling in my skull with each heartbeat.

I failed him.

Now he's suffering, and I'm playing dress-up.

Bile rises in my throat. I swallow it down, forcing my face to remain impassive. We can't afford to break character now. Not when we're so close.

But fuck, it hurts.

Chapter

Thirty

IVY

Iforce myself to take deep breaths, fighting the urge to panic as I sit on the cold metal examination table. My entire body aches from a night spent tossing and turning on the thin mattress in my cell, and I didn't sleep for more than a minute or two here and there. The sterile white walls of the room seem to close in on me, a stark reminder of my captivity.

But I need to stay calm. I need to keep my wits about me if I'm going to find a way out of this place.