Page 39 of Unhinged Alphas

The man stiffens, his head cocking to the side as he regards us with a new intensity. "Geo?" he repeats, his voice laced with suspicion. "Why didn't you say so?"

He lowers the shotgun, reaching up to tug the mask down around his neck. My eyes widen behind my own mask in shock. This… isn't what I expected.

He's beautiful. Obnoxiously so, with chiseled features and piercing blue eyes. His hair is a tousled mop of golden curls, his skin bronzed by the unforgiving sun. Looks like a damn statue from an Old Town fountain came to life.

"Well, come on in, boys," he says, a lazy yet no less menacing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Let's talk business."

He turns and strides into the ruined house,leaving us to follow in his wake. I glance at Valek, my brow furrowing beneath my mask.

"Are you sure about this?" I murmur, keeping my voice low. "He doesn't exactly seem like the trustworthy type."

Valek snorts, a harsh, humorless sound. "No one out here is trustworthy, princess. But Raven's the best chance we've got at getting the intel we need."

He follows Raven into the house, his steps sure and confident. And after a moment's hesitation, I trail after him, my unease growing with every step.

The interior of the house is just as dilapidated as the exterior, a jumble of broken furniture and crumbling walls. But Raven navigates the chaos with ease, leading us to a small, cluttered room that might have once been a kitchen.

"So," he says, leaning back against a rusted countertop and crossing his arms over his chest. "What brings a couple of Council dogs to my humble abode?"

I bristle at the nickname, my lip curling beneath my mask. But Valek just gives him a humorless smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"What gave it away?" he asks in a wry tone.

"His hair, for one thing," Raven says, casting apointed glance my way. "Those aren't the greasy tresses of an Outlander."

I touch the low ponytail I thought was subtle enough against my back, scowling at him.

"For another, you carry yourselves like military," he says with a shrug. "No amount of grime and costuming can cover that. Not with these eyes. I survive by knowing how to spot a tin soldier. But don't worry. You certainly wouldn't be the first."

"We're looking for information," Valek says, his voice flat and emotionless. "About the Council, and their involvement in certain...unsavoryactivities." His lips curl around the word with a slight snarl.

"The Council?" Raven echoes, arching an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you know more than I do?"

"We're not talking about the things they keep in the books," I say pointedly.

A flicker of amusement dances in Raven's eyes. "Oh? You're going to have to be a bit more specific than that, pretty boy."

Pretty boy? Rich coming from him.

Valek leans forward, his voice dropping to a low, intense murmur. "Omega trafficking," he says, each word precise and measured. "We have reason to believe the Council is involved in the trade, usingtheir influence to funnel omegas to the highest bidder."

Raven stares at us for a small eternity, his expression unreadable.

"Is this a joke?" he finally asks, his voice dripping with sardonic amusement. He grins at us, sharp and mocking. "Because if so, it's not a very funny one."

I glance at Valek, my frustration boiling over. "I told you," I snap at him, my voice tight with irritation. "Geo was just fucking with us."

But Raven holds up a hand, his grin fading into something more serious. "No, no," he says, shaking his head. "I don't mean it like that. What I mean is, of course the Council is involved in the omega trade. They've got their hands in every aspect of illicit business out here, from guns to drugs to flesh."

I glower at him, but I'm listening.

He leans back, his keen eyes glinting with a sort of cruel amusement. "But you're right about one thing. They've taken a special interest in omegas lately. Seems like every lowlife with a pulse is scrambling to get their hands on one, especially after that law mandating omegas are only given to packs of four or more. But exceptions can always be made... for the right price. And I'll give you one guess whosupplies those second-rate customers. Rather convenient, isn't it?"

A surge of revulsion flares in my chest, but I force myself to remain calm, to keep my voice steady as I ask the question that's been burning in my mind.

"And you?" I ask, my words clipped and terse. "Doyoudeal in omegas, Raven?"

He looks at me, his eyes narrowing as he takes in my rigid posture, the barely contained fury radiating from every line of my body. And for a moment, I think he might take offense. Might lash out at the implied accusation.