Page 196 of Psycho Pack
She swings at Plague next, wielding the statue like a mace. She catches him in the side of the head, knocking him back, then whirls around and clobbers Whiskey with it as he lunges for her, smashing one of the horns off his mask.
If she were an alpha, or even a beta, any one of them would have ended her by now, but it's clear they don't know what to do with being attacked by an omega.
Guess it's my turn.
I push past a bewildered Wraith and leap onto the omega's back, wrapping my arm around her throat from behind. She scratches at my arm, her manicured nails tearing up my skin even though she was just filing them—into fucking claws, apparently—but I hold firm, careful to apply pressure to the sides of her neck rather than her windpipe.
"Shh," I growl as she struggles. "Just go the fuck to sleep."
Her movements become more frantic, then gradually weaker. Finally, she goes limp in my arms. I lower her gently to the floor, checking her pulse to make sure she's just unconscious.
"Holy shit," Thane mutters, swaying slightly. "Good work, Ivy."
"What the fuck do we do with her?" Whiskey asks as he rubs his bleeding head with a grimace, glancing between the unconscious omega and the door where Monty disappeared.
Thane still looks kind of dazed, but his eyes are sharp as he surveys the situation. "We take her with us," he says firmly. "She's our only leverage now."
"Incoming!" Valek calls from his position by the door.
More guards pour into the room, drawn by the commotion. Wraith moves like lightning, intercepting the first wave before they can reach me. His massive fists make short work of two guards' faces, turning them into pulp, while Whiskey charges past him and barrels into the group like a battering ram.
Bones crack as bodies hit walls.
We move into the hall and Plague and Thane take flanking positions, their movements precise and lethal despite Thane's injury. The guards don't stand a chance against my alphas' coordinated assault, but there seem to be endless reinforcements streaming up the stairs.
Are we going to have to jump out the fucking window?
"Enough!"
Raven's voice cuts through the chaos like a blade. He stands at the end of the hallway, his golden avian mask catching the purple light. The remaining guards freeze mid-motion.
"You're tearing apart my establishment," he says, his tone deceptively calm as he scans the carnage around us. His carefully maintained composure cracks when he spots one particular guard crumpled against the wall.
"Marcus," he says flatly. "I liked Marcus. He made it a whole three months. A record, really."
"He was in our way," Valek says coldly.
Raven's hands curl into fists at his sides, his nails biting into his palms. For a moment, I think he might attack us himself. But he takes a deep breath, smoothing what I can see of his features back into a practiced mask of indifference.
Was he even upset?
Or was he just… irritated?
"Because I'm in a sporting mood, you have ten seconds to leave my establishment," he says, his voice like ice. His eyes drift over the Ghosts, lingering on Whiskey, and his lips curve slightly. "Fifteen, for the cute alpha."
Whiskey stares at him. "What the fuck?"
"After that, I can't guarantee your safety," Raven continues, ignoring him. "But Icanguarantee your capture."
"You never could guarantee shit," I snap back.
A sharp laugh escapes him. "Perhaps not. But I can guarantee your capture if you stay much longer. And before you all start bitching at me, I'm being incredibly generous after I warned you not to kill too many of my employees."
"He's right," Plague says tersely. "We need to move."
Wraith scoops up the unconscious omega, cradling her with surprising gentleness despite the situation. I grab the small jeweled purse she dropped, hoping it contains something useful. The others close in around us, creating a protective barrier as we move toward the emergency exit.
"Ten seconds," Raven calls after us in a singsong.