Page 46 of Unhinged Alphas

My first instinct is to put myself between him and Ivy, who's directly between the two brothers. Judging from the way the others tense, the same idea occurs to them, too. But Ivy doesn't jolt or look afraid. If anything, there's concern in her gaze as she looks back at Wraith, like she's… worried about him.

Not afraid of him. Afraidforhim.

Is it because he protected her through the night back on that mission? Or has something more transpired between them in our absence? That would sure as hell explain the way he's looking at her like she hung the damn moon.

The thought immediately fills me with fierce protectiveness and jealousy, but I know I don't have the right. Technically, Ivy is his omega as much as she is mine. But that doesn't mean my alpha nature likes the idea of a beast who pulverizes our enemies with his bare hands going anywhere near her.

For the first time, though, I see a glimmer of shame in Wraith's eyes as he looks away, collecting himself. Maybe he's more self-aware than I gave him credit for.

"We need to face the facts," Thane continues in an ominous tone. He takes out his device and pulls up an image, passing it over to Valek first.

I can tell from one look at Valek's face the contents of that image are shocking, to say the least. We knew General Hargrove had to be involved somehow, so what has Thane discovered that makes it so much more sinister?

"I hope it's just a fuckin' dick pic," Whiskey mutters, always trying to lighten the mood. It's how he deals with uncomfortable situations. Stillannoying as fuck, but that knowledge makes me want to put a fist in his face a little less.

Only a little.

I take the phone from Valek, staring down at the image of a letter on the screen. As my eyes travel over the words, I feel a combination of disgust and rage I'm all too familiar with feeling toward my fellow alphas lately.

General Hargrove—Thane's father—is not only aware of the omega trade.

He's leading it.

I hand the phone to Whiskey, and as his eyes glance over the screen, all the humor drains from him. "Holy shit," he mutters.

Even he's not willing to crack a joke at that.

I watch as Thane takes the phone back from Whiskey, his expression grim and determined. It's a look I've seen on his face countless times before. Usually when we're about to embark on a mission that's as likely to kill us all as it is necessary.

But this time, it's different. This time, the enemy isn't some faceless insurgent or a rival pack. It's his own father, the man who raised him. The alpha who molded him into the alpha he is today.

I can't begin to imagine how that must feel.

Whiskey, ever the one to state the obvious, pipesup. "That letter's all the proof we need, ain't it?" he asks, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Thane shakes his head, his jaw clenched tight. "No," he says, his voice low and controlled. "My father could just deny it. He'd say it's a forgery. And there's the fact that I got proof of it in the first place. They'll use that against us."

He's right, of course. The Council is nothing if not cunning, and they'll stop at nothing to protect their own interests. Even if it means throwing one of their own under the bus.

Even General Hargrove's own son.

"What good is evidence going to do when some of the most powerful alphas in Reinmich are implicated?" Valek asks, his accent thick with skepticism.

It's a good question. We all know the answer, even if none of us wants to say it out loud. The Council is untouchable. They always have been.

Thane is silent for a long moment, his gaze distant and unfocused. I can practically see the gears turning in his head as he weighs our options, trying to find a way out of this mess.

Finally, he speaks, his voice low and somber.

"We'll wait for Valek's contact to get us proof," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "More info can't hurt, in any case. We need to knowthe full scope of what we're dealing with, and everyone who's involved. But we need to be prepared for the fact that it might not be enough to bring my father and the others responsible to justice."

Whiskey frowns, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What then?" he asks, his voice uncharacteristically serious.

Thane's expression hardens, his eyes flashing. "If it's not," he growls, "then we're going to have to do what we do best. We're going to war."

Chapter

Thirteen