Page 243 of Psycho Pack

She is a woman after my own heart.

Even if it means I'm barely sleeping, and I very much need the sleep. I've burned through every contact I have for the Ghosts. For Ivy. Geo, Raven, and now Nikolai. Even if I actually wanted to leave, I'd be completely fucked out there. No more favors to call in, no more doors that would open for me.

And now I'm sleep deprived to boot.

But she was right.

I am a slave to my instincts when it comes to her.

My whole life, self-preservation drove my every decision. Every betrayal, every calculated risk—it was all to keep myself alive.

But now?

Now I have something I value more than my own survival.

I have her.

Even if she never lets me touch her again, I'd rather grovel at her feet begging for the crumbs of her attention than be free without her. The irony isn't lost on me as I study my reflection. I always imagined love was its own kind of prison, but I've discovered there is no freedom without Ivy.

Even if she hates me.

But that night I found her with Wraith and Thane… that night was the first time I've had a glimmer of hope that there might be some part of her, however small, that holds love alongside that hatred.

The door swings open and Whiskey's bulk fills the frame. "Time to head out," he says gruffly. "You better not fuck this up, psycho."

I roll my eyes. "Yes, yes. The one with the stick up his ass already threatened me."

"Plague?" he asks, frowning.

"Thane," I correct him, smoothing my hair back. "Though your boyfriend got in a few choice warnings, too."

I brush past him before he can sputter out a response, making my way to the main area of our new base. The others are already gathered, dressed in their finest. My breath catches when I see Ivy in a flowing white dress, her wild auburn hair tamed into elegant waves.

She'll be playing the role of my omega today.

And she certainly looks the part.

I couldn't have dreamed up any greater perfection. Of course, itisjust a role. Her random act of mercy doesn't change that.

But a man can dream.

Even a wicked one.

"You look lovely, little omega," I purr, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

She allows the gesture but fixes me with a warning look. "Don't push it."

I let her hand fall with a smile, and I pull the door open with a flourish, waiting for her to pass through. I can't resist the temptation to study her retreating form as she walks through the door.

Self-control has its limits.

The Surhiiran vehicles waiting outside are as elegant as everything else in this impossible country. White and gold, of course. The guards accompanying us wear pristine uniforms that make them look more like art pieces than soldiers.

But I know better.

I've seen what Surhiiran warriors can do. They're not even dressed to hide their national affiliation. Prytel is a man with a nation of origin, but an allegiance to none. If he thinks Imanaged to enlist a Surhiiran detail, it could be the one thing that sells this crumbling facade.

Assuming the Council didn't already burn that bridge and we're all walking into his trap.