Page 68 of Unhinged Alphas
"Wraith," she says softly, and to my utter shock, he stills. The fight drains out of him noticeably as he focuses on Ivy. The feral intensity in his gaze softens with every ragged breath whooshing through his mask.
I release my hold on Wraith, stepping back. So does Whiskey. All of us stare in disbelief at the scene before us. Even Valek, nursing a split lip and what looks like a dislocated shoulder, seems to have come to terms with what's happening, his anger giving way to a sort of grudging acceptance.
The room is in shambles. Furniture overturned, walls cracked, books and debris scattered everywhere. It's a stark testament to the raw power of an unhinged alpha. And yet, in the face of Ivy's gentle touch, that power seems to evaporate like mist in the sun.
"So this is a thing now?" Valek growls, breaking the tense silence. His voice is rough, laced with a mixture of disbelief and something that might be hurt. He's swaying slightly on his feet as if he's drunk, crimson blooming on the back of his head and matting his platinum hair. It stands out like blood on snow.
Ivy whirls on him, her eyes flashing with fury. "What, am I not allowed to choose who I'm with?" she demands, her tone pure fire and indignation.
Valek blinks, caught off guard by her vehemence. "No, it's notthat," he sputters, his usual smooth demeanor cracking. "But...him?" He gestures at Wraith, incredulity written all over his face.
"Hey, the crazy ones are crazy in bed, too," Whiskey interjects, swiping the sweat off his brow with a rag that was probably part of the couch at one point. He winks at Ivy. "Ain't that right, little wildcat?"
His attempt at deescalation falls flat. Ivy bristles at Valek, her small frame practically vibrating with indignation. "What's wrong with him?" she asks defensively. Her hand finds Wraith's and his closes around hers, engulfing it.
Valek's eyes widen, and he lets out a bark of disbelieving laughter. "You really want me to go there?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm even though he's slurring from what I'm pretty damn sure is a concussion. Then he turns to Wraith, his lip curling in a sneer. "Take off your mask and we can settle this right now."
Wraith flinches, his eyes flashing with pain.
Before I can say a word, Ivy growls, thesound startlingly fierce coming from her throat. She steps in front of Wraith, every inch a feral omega protecting her chosen mate. "Fuck. Off."
The tension in the room is reaching a boiling point and I need to regain control before things spiral even further out of hand. "Valek, stop," I snap, stepping between them. I shoot my brother-in-arms a hard look. "Ivy is our pack omega. That includes Wraith. She's free to be with whomever she chooses."
I pause, glancing at my actual brother, who's eyeing me with a wariness I've never seen in his normally frigid gaze. It's not a wariness that suggests he thinks I can stop him. It's a wariness that suggests he's willing to fight me if I try.
"That said," I say slowly, "I do have concerns about… safety."
Ivy's eyes narrow, her chin jutting out defiantly. "I'm fine, aren't I?" she challenges. There's a steel in her voice that wasn't there before, a confidence that both impresses and worries me.
I sigh. This situation is spiraling out of control, and I'm not sure how to rein it in. On one hand, I want to respect Ivy's choices and autonomy. On the other, I can't ignore the very real danger Wraith poses even to his own pack members.
Let alone an omega a fraction of his size.
What if he loses control with Ivy?
What if she gets caught in the crossfire of his rage?
"Look," I start, trying to find the right words. "I understand that you?—"
But before I can finish, a shrill sound cuts through the air. The emergency sirens signaling an urgent mission. For a moment, we all freeze, staring at each other in stunned silence.
The wailing of the sirens immediately snaps us out of our personal bullshit, reminding us of our duties, of the world that exists beyond the walls of our compound. In a flash, the atmosphere in the room shifts from charged personal confrontation to professional readiness.
Plague is the first to move, already heading for the infirmary to grab his med kit. Whiskey and Valek are next, their aggression from just a few moments ago channeled into efficient preparation as they start strapping on their weapons. The familiar routine of gearing up for a mission seems to center us all.
But I can't help but notice Valek looks like he's going to puke, letting out a stream of Vrissian cursesunder his breath as he fumbles with his tactical belt, hands trembling uncharacteristically.
Maybe the fight with Wraith fucked him up more than he's letting on. God knows he sustains enough head injuries. Figures he'd be even more of an impossible asshole than usual because he isn't feeling good.
Plague seems to notice, too, the moment he comes out of the infirmary with his leather bag. His beaked mask turns sharply toward Valek, his eyes flicking over our brother in arms from behind his amber lenses.
"You alright?" Plague asks cautiously. "Your head's bleeding. Again."
"I'm fine,Doctor Princess," Valek grits out, angling himself away so Plague can't see the back of his head.
Plague ignores his new name as he circles around behind Valek, trying to get a better look at him. "Thane, I don't think he should go," our medic calls to me, glancing down at Valek's stumbling legs.
"You might have a point," I admit.