Page 119 of Psycho Pack
"It's a little late," Whiskey grunts.
"Your pupils are still extremely dilated," the first attendant notes to Valek, drawing my attention back to him as she tilts his face up to examine his eyes with a pen light. "Whatever they gaveyou was quite potent. I can give you something to help clear it from your system, if you'd like?"
Valek's throat works as he swallows. "That would be... appreciated."
She prepares an injection with practiced efficiency, and I notice how Valek deliberately glances away when she administers it. I give his hand a squeeze.
Interesting.
The fearless psychopath doesn't like needles.
"There," she says softly. "The effects should begin reversing within the hour. Though you may experience some discomfort as the drugs leave your system."
"Wonderful," Valek mutters. "I do so enjoy a good withdrawal."
I shouldn't feel bad for him. I really fucking shouldn't. But watching him try to maintain his carefully constructed walls while these strangers tend to the evidence of his own trauma...
It's at least harder to hate him than it was an hour ago.
Still going to make him work for it though.
The attendants are just finishing up with Valek when the queen reenters the guest wing. I didn't even notice she'd left. The way she moves reminds me of Plague. OfHamsa.That same fluid grace that always made him seem otherworldly.
"Once you've all had a chance to rest," she says, her musical voice carrying easily through the room, "I would be honored if you would join me for dinner in the royal hall. Tonight, of course, not anytime soon."
My stomach does a nervous flip.
Royal hall.
I'm a feral omega.
I don't belong in a palace.
"If the food and drink is anything like what we had on the train," Whiskey says eagerly, "we wouldn't miss it for anything."
The queen's eyes warm up a bit. "I believe you'll find our hospitality quite satisfactory here, too," she says. Then her gaze shifts to her son, softening further. "We have much to discuss, but it can wait until your pack has recovered. After all, we have time now, don't we, Hamsa?"
He stiffens slightly at the use of his real name. But he inclines his head in a slight bow. "Yes."
Her fingertips ghost on his arm as she turns, her pristine white robes whispering on the marble. Then she glides from the room and the attendants follow, taking the used supplies with them.
The moment the door closes behind her, everyone rounds on Plague.
"Bro, I want fucking answers, and I want them now," Whiskey says, gesturing wildly. "You're a fuckin'princeand you never thought to mention it?"
"When exactly should I have brought it up?" Plague asks dryly. "During firefights? Mission briefings? Tea time?"
"We don't have tea time," Whiskey sputters. "Fuck, iftea timeis what you've been pining for, no wonder you bitch and moan about having to settle for beer and water and?—"
"Shut up," Thane cuts in, his deep voice carrying that edge of command that usually makes everyone fall in line. "What I want to know is why you ran. What happened that made a prince abandon everything and join a pack of killers?"
I watch Plague carefully, noting the way his fingers drum against his thigh. That nervous tic I noticed earlier. Seems he's a hell of a lot more nervous than usual lately.
"It's complicated," he says tightly.
"Un-complicate it," Valek drawls from his bench. "We have time."
Plague's pale eyes flash dangerously. "No, we don't. What we have is a few hours to rest before dining with the queen of Surhiira. My mother. I suggest you all use that time wisely."