Page 76 of Unhinged Alphas

Whiskey glances back at him. "Back then, we thought you guys were churning out mutated super soldiers. So, uh… yeah. Sorry."

Valek blows a puff of air through his nose. "Notme."

I stare at the screen, transfixed by the absurdity unfolding before me as I eat way more than my fair share of popcorn. Mila Molotova struts across thedusty landscape after wiping out half of Brick's men, her gun-arms swinging with each exaggerated step. The sight is so ridiculous, I can't help but snort.

"What are you laughin' about?" Whiskey asks, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"Nothing," I mutter, biting back a laugh. "It's just... is this really what people thought the future would be like?"

"Guess we were all optimistic back then," he says with a laugh. "Guess it's campier than I remember. But it's great, huh?"

I do find myself oddly captivated. The movie isn't good, not by any stretch of the imagination, but there's something comforting about its sheer ridiculousness. It's so over the top, for a little while, I can forget about the reality of our world.

Maybe I could get used to this.

I burrow deeper into Whiskey's side, snaking an arm over his soft belly and breathing in his scent. He smells like gunpowder and beer. Behind us, Valek's cold smoky scent, like frost on stone. He's been so quiet, I have to wonder if he's even still awake. When I glance back at him to check, I realize he's not watching the movie at all.

He's watchingme, a strange ghost of a smile on his lips.

Chapter

Seventeen

PLAGUE

The roar of the engine drowns out my thoughts as we tear down the mountain road. Thane's at the wheel, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. Wraith's massive form is hunched in the back, his blue eyes gleaming in the rearview mirror.

I can't shake the image of Ivy standing there, looking so small yet so fierce. It's a distraction I can't afford right now, but my mind keeps circling back to her. To the way she looked at us as we left. To the promise of a conversation when we return.

Ifwe return.

The vehicle lurches as Thane takes a sharp turn, snapping me back to the present. "We're approaching the outpost," he growls, his voicebarely audible over the engine and the still-blaring alarms.

I nod, checking my gear one last time. My fingers brush over the various pouches and pockets, cataloging each item by touch alone. Syringes. Bandages. Poisons. Blades. The tools of my trade, equally suited for healing or harm.

The outpost looms ahead, a squat, fortified building perched on the edge of a cliff. As we screech to a halt, the full extent of the situation becomes clear. The valley below is ablaze, orange flames licking at the sky. The empty Council military base, once a symbol of their power they abandoned recently in favor of a base with a better view, now reduced to a smoldering ruin.

"Fuck," Thane mutters, killing the engine. "Who'd be stupid enough to hit an empty outpost?"

I step out of the vehicle, the acrid smell of smoke hitting me even through my mask's filters. "Someone sending a message," I reply, my voice muffled and distorted. "Or setting a trap."

Wraith emerges behind me, his massive form casting a hulking shadow in the firelight. He lets out a low, rumbling growl that needs no translation. He's itching for a fight.

Thane joins us, the white of his skullmask glowing in the firelight and making him look like an actual ghost, not one by name only. "Trap or not, we need to check it out. That's our job."

I nod, but unease coils in my gut. Something about this feels off. Wrong. It's too blatant, too obvious. The Council has enemies, sure, but none stupid enough to announce their presence like this. Not unless they want to be found.

We move toward the outpost in formation, years of working together making our movements fluid and synchronized. Thane takes point, his rifle at the ready. I flank him on the left while Wraith covers our right, his massive hands flexing, ready to rip and tear.

I'm not one to fear death.

Contamination, yes. Death, no.

But I'm feeling uncharacteristically afraid right now. Why? Because I'm afraid something will happen? That I'll never see Ivy again? I've been on countless missions that nearly ended with me in pieces and I never cared like this.

Even Wraith, who barrels into every situation like a beastly wrecking ball with no regard for his own personal safety, is visibly on edge and less detached than usual. His posture is stiff, his eyesflicking around instead of staring off into space. More aware. More cautious.

And that has my nerves frayed more than anything.