Page 194 of Psycho Pack
Different from the club below.
Slower.
Darker.
More dangerous.
Here we fucking go.
Chapter
Thirty-Four
IVY
Iadjust my rabbit mask so I can fucking see after Wraith's protective and sweet but frustrating gesture. My heart races from the sudden violence and the full knowledge the pack is in serious danger now, but there's no time to dwell on it as we burst into the room.
Purple light bathes everything in an otherworldly glow. The scene before us freezes like a twisted scene from a movie. Tired guards standing around a grimy-looking beta who must be Monty Filch bound in an elaborate chair, a female alpha in a leopard mask standing over him with her stiletto grinding into his crotch through his slacks. He's wearing a ruby pig mask and a pomegranate is stuffed in his mouth like a gag, oozing red juice all over his sweaty, bony body.
I suddenly like pomegranates a hell of a lot less.
In the corner, a beautiful omega wearing a pretty white cat mask sits in a high-backed velvet chair. Her flowing hair cascades like ribbons of moonlight down her shoulders and voluptuous body, matching the silvery-white silk that pools over her soft belly and thighs as she boredly files her nails.
Then her violet eyes lock on us.
Her scream pierces the air.
I watch as chaos erupts in slow motion. The guards' hands move toward their weapons, but my alphas are already in motion. They flow like water, like death given form.
Whiskey charges like a freight train, reaching the first guard before he can even draw his gun. Those massive hands wrap around the guard's head andtwist. The crunch of his neck breaking sounds like splintering wood, drowned out by the muffled sound of the beta screaming into the pomegranate.
It's so high-pitched that at first, I think it's still the omega screaming, but she's already taken cover in the corner behind a sensual iron statue of a woman holding a whip in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. She's balled up and covering her head in terrified silence.
Thane and Wraith move in perfect sync, coordinating without a word. Thane goes low while Wraith goes high. The guard between them doesn't stand a chance. His gun comes free of its holster just as Thane sweeps his legs. Wraith's fist connects with his jaw as he falls, caving his face in, and I hear teeth scatter across the marble floor.
Valek is pure grace, all fluid motion as he slides between two guards. The carbon fiber garrote wire appears in his hands like magic. One guard drops, clutching his throat as blood sprays in an arc that catches the purple light like a macabre rainbow. The other tries to bring his weapon to bear, but Valek is already behind him, that deadly wire finding another throat.
The glass blade in Plague's gloved hand catches the light as he drives it into the base of a guard's skull. The man drops without a sound, dead before he hits the floor. Another guard rushes him, but Plague sidesteps, letting the man's momentum carry him straight onto a second blade.
The female alpha in the leopard mask abandons her "client" and charges at me with a snarl, stiletto heel raised like a weapon.But I'm not the helpless omega she thinks I am. I duck under her wild swing and drive my knee up into her stomach. As she doubles over, I grab her hair and slam her face into my rising knee. The crunch of her nose breaking through her mask is deeply satisfying.
She staggers back, blood streaming down her ruined mask. I advance on her, ready to finish this, but Wraith is suddenly there. His massive hand engulfs her throat, lifting her off her feet. She kicks and claws at his arm, snarling, but he might as well be made of stone. He slams her into the wall, knocking her out cold, and drops her unconscious body unceremoniously at my feet.
The whole thing takes less than thirty seconds.
Bodies litter the floor around us, blood slowly spreading across the marble in dark pools that look black in the purple light. The only sounds are our heavy breathing and the beta's continued muffled shrieking as he tries in vain to free himself from his restraints.
I don't even think he's stopped to breathe.
The omega is still huddled into the corner, trembling and holding her metal nail file like a dagger. Despite her obvious terror, she has fire in her eyes.
I stare at Monty as he continues shrieking into the pomegranate gag, his eyes wild with terror behind his pig mask. The beta's entire body shakes, the ropes creaking against the elaborate chair.
"Do you know who we are?" Plague asks smoothly, his voice carrying that clinical detachment that always makes him sound more dangerous.
When Monty just keeps screaming, Valek stalks forward and rips the pomegranate from his mouth with enough force that a tooth comes with it, clattering across the marble floor. Blood and fruit juice mingle on Monty's chin as he gasps for air.
"Please," he whimpers, eyes darting between our masks as his swollen lips quiver. "I'll give you anything you want. Money, information, power?—"