Page 163 of Psycho Pack

Thane stares me down for a few long moments, and I find myself wondering just how many seasoned soldiers have withered under that dark, piercing gaze. It's harder to hold it than I want to admit.

But then, he blinks slowly, a soft chuckle rumbling from his broad chest. "That an ultimatum?"

I straighten my spine, realizing I'm still standing. "Yes," I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "It is."

He cracks a ghost of a smile, exchanging a glance with the others. "Well, I guess it's settled. We have our omega. We have our unit. We have our allies. Now, we just need our army." He pauses, glancing over at the queen. "With all due respect, yourMajesty… what do you get out of this?" he asks, voicing my unspoken concern.

To my surprise, the queen smiles.

"A chance to right some of the wrongs my isolation has allowed to fester in the world beyond our borders," she says. "And a chance to help my son heal from the wounds of his past." Her gaze sweeps over all of us. "And, if we'reverylucky, a chance to gain powerful allies in the fight against those who would harm the most vulnerable among us."

It's a pretty speech. But I've learned the hard way that pretty words often hide ugly truths, and even now, it's difficult for me to accept her words as sincere.

At least until I meet her gaze.

She gives me a small nod.

With that acknowledgment, any fears I might have had that I'm just desperate to believe that there's still some good left in this fucked-up world evaporate immediately.

I believe her.

With my whole heart, I believe her.

"We'll need time to discuss things," Thane says. "As a pack."

The queen nods. "Of course. Take all the time you need. We can talk more about this in the morning, once you've all rested and finished your meal."

"Fuck yeah," Whiskey says, rubbing his palms together before digging into his food again. "If we're going to war, better fuel up."

Plague flinches at his language.

But the queen just beams.

The table conversation fades into a distant hum as I lean against Wraith's solid frame. My eyelids feel impossibly heavy, the weight of everything we've been through finally catching up to me. I know I should sit up straight, should at least pretend to be listening.

But I can't summon the energy to care about proper etiquette anymore.

Wraith's arm comes around me, his touch hesitant at first. When I don't pull away, he tugs me closer, his massive hand rubbing soothing circles on my arm. The gentle rumble in his chest vibrates through me like a lullaby.

I want to tell him how proud I am that he's sitting here with me even though sitting through a royal dinner must be torture for him. How much I love him. How much I love all of them. These beautiful, broken alphas who are all mine even as the world caves in around us.

But the words get lost somewhere between my brain and my mouth, tangled up in the fog of exhaustion clouding my mind.

A warm hand settles on my thigh. I don't need to look to know it's Thane. His fingers trace lazy patterns against the silky fabric of my dress, each caress sending little sparks of heat through me despite my fatigue.

Neither of them should probably be doing that here, either. They're not even trying to hide it like I was when I touched Wraith under the table. But I'm too tired to care about propriety. Too worn down to worry about what anyone might think.

These alphas are mine, and I am theirs.

Let the whole world see.

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

PLAGUE

The weight of my mother's gaze follows us as we leave the dining hall, Ivy half-asleep and stumbling between Thane and Wraith. My chest aches at the sight of her, so small and vulnerable between their massive frames.