Page 20 of Unhinged Alphas

I snort, adjusting the dark goggles perched on my brow. As if I'd lead us out into this hellish terrain on a whim. "It's here," I assure him, scanning the blasted landscape for any familiar landmarks. "Just a little farther."

Plague mutters something under his breath, too low for me to catch. But I can imagine the sorts of curses he's spitting out behind that mask of his. Self-righteous prick has never approved of my methods or my past.

As if he's so damn pristine himself.

"You know, if you're getting tired, we could always take a break," I taunt, flashing him a sharp grin. "Let you catch your breath, princess."

He stiffens, his gloved hands clenching into fists at his sides. "I'm fine," he bites out, quickening his pace. "And don't call me that."

I chuckle, low and dark in my throat. Getting under Plague's skin is one of my favorite pastimes, a twisted sort of game to alleviate the boredom of these tedious missions.

He's so damn uptight, so convinced of his own moral superiority. It's delicious to poke at those hairline cracks in his armor, to watch him bristle and seethe. Usually, I just leave it to Whiskey. But since he's not here, the job falls to me.

"This is a mission, Valek," he scolds. "One that's crucial to the safety of our pack. So either take it seriously, or get the fuck out of my way."

But before I can goad Plague any further, something catches my eye up ahead. A glint of sunlight on metal, half-buried in the cracked and barren earth. I raise a hand, halting Plague in his tracks as I move closer to inspect it.

A tripwire, cleverly concealed and designed to maim any unwary travelers who stumble too close.

My lips curve into a feral grin as I crouch down, tracing the thin cable with the tip of my blade. Crude but effective—just the sort of vicious trap I'd expect from the lawless scum who frequent this place.

I straighten and gesture for Plague to approach. "Looks like we're on the right track after all, princess."

He glares at me from behind his scarf, his shoulders tense and radiating hostility. "I told you not tocall me that," he grits out, storming past me to examine the trap himself. "What is this?"

"Nasty little surprise for any trespassers," I explain, unable to keep the dark glee from my voice. "If you'd stepped on that tripwire, it would have released a cloud of toxic gas right into that pretty face. Corrosive enough to melt the flesh from your bones before you could even start screaming."

Plague goes rigid, his hand flying up to clutch at the fabric covering his mouth and nose. For a moment, I think he might actually be sick.

I throw back my head and laugh, a harsh, mocking sound that echoes off the blasted ruins surrounding us. "What's wrong?" I taunt, taking a perverse delight in his obvious discomfort. "Can't handle a little reality check?"

He whirls on me, his gloved fingers fisting in the front of my shirt as he hauls me closer. The movement is so sudden, so unexpected, that my laughter dies in my throat. His face is mere inches from mine, his breath hot against my cheek as he snarls, "Don't fucking test me, Valek. I'm not one of your victims, and for the record, I votedagainstyou being plucked from death row and added to the team. I won't hesitate to put you down if you step out of line."

Excitement lances through me at the threat, adark and dangerous thrill that has my pulse kicking up a notch. Violence has always been a lure for me.

And if it were any other occasion, I'd take him up on the challenge. But then there would be a chance, however infinitesimal, that I wouldn't get back to Ivy.

Is this what normal people call common sense?

Huh.

I'll settle for mocking him instead.

"Is that a promise,princess?" I purr, my voice a low, gravelly rasp.

Plague stares at me for a heartbeat longer, his chest heaving with harsh breaths. Then, with a disgusted sound, he shoves me away, turning on his heel and stalking off in the direction the trap was pointing.

"Just show me where this fucking market is so we can get out of this wasteland," he growls over his shoulder. "The sooner we're done here, the better."

With a low chuckle, I adjust the scarf around my face and set off after him, my boots crunching over the cracked and barren earth. He's already forged ahead, leaving a trail of disturbed dust in his wake like a vengeful spirit passing through this desolate hellscape.

I catch up to him eventually, falling into step beside his punishing pace. He doesn't look at me, doesn't acknowledge my presence beyond a subtle tensing of his shoulders.

Fine by me.

The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy, but not entirely uncomfortable.

At least, not for me. I can tell the quiet is grating on Plague, his every movement radiating a tightly leashed impatience. He wants to snap at me, to lash out with biting words and vicious barbs. Wants to take out all his pent-up frustration. But he holds his tongue, forces himself to remain stoic and professional.