Page 257 of Psycho Pack

"I didn't," Azarel says flatly. His voice is deeper than Plague's, rougher. More like Thane's. And like Plague, the only hint of his Surhiiran accent is the posh lilt to his words. "But when the Surhiirans started sniffing around, asking about a prisoner going by one of my contingency aliases, I knew I had to act before you completely blew my cover. Imagine my surprise when they sendyou."

Something tells me he doesn't mean it in an, "Oh, sweet, a cake—what a fun surprise" way, either.

Damn, this fucker's cold.

I watch Plague's shoulders tense up. "You've been quiet for months," he snaps. "Our mother thought you were dead."

Azarel gives a dry laugh that sounds about as warm as a fucking iceberg. "That's rich, coming from the traitor who ran in the middle of the night and went to work for the enemy."

Plague clenches his jaw. I can tell he's about to snap.

"This is a touching family reunion and all," I drawl, keeping my hand near my weapon. Can't help but notice Azarel's hand hasn't moved away from his gun. "But let's not get too sappy."

I catch Ivy shifting uneasily beside me, her ocean eyes darting between the brothers. She's worried too. And she should be. This reunion is about as warm as a Vrissian winter.

Plague's eyes narrow as he gestures to the uniform and brass peeking out from beneath Azarel's coat. "What do you call that, brother?" he asks bitterly. "A general's epaulette? It seems the enemy has grown quite fond of you."

"I call it being covert," Azarel sneers, fixing me with a judgmental look that reminds me way too much of his stuck-up younger brother, without any of the redeeming qualities. "You should try it sometime."

"I'll make your ass covert, bro," I snap back.

Ivy raises an eyebrow at me. "Not your best comeback," she mutters under her breath.

"Haven't had coffee yet," I grunt, but she's right.

That was weak as fuck.

Maybe I should've gone with something about shoving that Reinmichian uniform so far up his ass, he'll be shitting medals for a week.

Too late now.

The tension in the air is thick enough to choke on as the brothers stare each other down. It's like watching two alpha wolves circle each other, both waiting for an excuse to go for the throat.

It's fucking badass, if I'm being honest.

Or it would be if I didn't happen to love one of those wolves.

I watch the whole scene unfold like a train wreck in slow motion. The breeze shifts and Azarel suddenly goes rigid, his nostrils flaring as he catches Ivy's scent. Even with the suppressants and sprays Plague's been giving her, there's no mistaking what she is up close.

A growl builds in my chest before I can stop it. Pure alpha instinct taking over at the threat to our omega.

For once, Plague doesn't give me shit about it.

If anything, he looks ready to throw down himself.

"You brought anomegahere?" Azarel demands, his voice sharp as a knife.

Guess being a judgy bitch runs in the family.

Then again, the queen's a fuckin' delight and Revi's a big teddy bear, so maybe these two get it from daddy dearest.

"What can I say? She likes car rides and we can't trust her alone in the house," I quip, trying to diffuse the tension before someone gets stabbed. "Keeps chewing up the furniture and biting us. She's a little feral."

I catch Ivy subtly flipping me off from the corner of my eye, but I can see she's fighting back a smile. Good. Keep her relaxed while the rest of us get ready to throw down if we need to.

"So it's true. You really did escape with an omega," Azarel murmurs, glancing thoughtfully between us. "And here I thought the Ghosts would have disbanded."

"Stronger than ever, baby," I say, staring the bastard down.