I stifle a laugh at Plague's dry remark. The tension between these two alphas is so thick you could cut it with a knife.
I pull another blanket into my nest, my hands busy even as my mind races. There's a potential threat right below us—an alpha who's already seen me once and who could expose me to Wadeif he realizes I'm here. I should be way more worried than I am. But somehow, sitting here surrounded by three protective alphas who are apparently my scent matches, I feel... not safe, exactly.
But something close to it.
Chapter
Forty
PLAGUE
The soft creak of floorboards beneath us makes my entire body go rigid.
I hold up a hand, signaling for silence. Whiskey freezes mid-sentence, his mouth snapping shut with an audible click. Ivy's eyes widen, her hands stilling on the blanket she's been folding into her nest. Wraith, already tense, shifts into something closer to a predatory crouch.
Footsteps. Deliberate and measured. Directly below us.
Valek.
My eyes meet Wraith's across the loft. The feral alpha's blue gaze burns with barely contained rage, his massive frame coiled like a spring. I give him a warning look and a slight shake of my head.
Don't move. Don't make a sound.
For once, even Whiskey seems to understand the gravity of the situation. He's gone completely still, an unusual state for him. His honey-brown eyes track the sound of Valek's movements,head tilting slightly as the footsteps pause directly beneath the sealed trapdoor.
The scrape of something against the floor. A chair, perhaps. Being dragged across the hardwood.
Ivy's scent spikes with anxiety, honeysuckle turning sharp with fear. Wraith immediately moves closer to her, one massive hand coming to rest on her shoulder. The protective gesture doesn't escape my notice, nor does the way she leans into his touch.
I ignore the uncomfortable twist in my chest at the sight.
"What's up here again?" Valek's voice drifts through the floor, muffled but distinct. His accent makes the question sound almost casual, but there's an edge to it that raises the hair on my arms.
"Just storage." Thane's reply is equally casual, but I can hear the tension beneath it. "Old equipment, holiday decorations. Nothing interesting."
A soft, disbelieving hum from Valek. "The ceiling seems higher in this section. Almost as if there's a room above."
"It's just how they built the place," Thane says. "The original owners were eccentric."
"I see."
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I slip it out silently, careful not to make even the slightest noise. A message from Thane in the group chat.
THANE
V is looking at the ceiling where the trapdoor was. Stay quiet.
I glance up to see the others checking their phones as well. Wraith's expression darkens, his hand tightening on Ivy's shoulder. Whiskey's usual grin is nowhere to be seen, replaced by a grim set to his mouth.
"You seem very interested in the architecture," Thane's voice comes again, louder this time. Deliberately so. A warning. "I didn't realize you had a passion for interior design."
"I have many interests," Valek replies smoothly.
More footsteps. Moving away, then back. Circling.
I watch as Ivy's knuckles turn white against the blanket she's clutching. She's terrified, but controlling it admirably. The purposeful, prowling rhythm of Valek's footsteps below us reminds me of a predator scenting prey. This is not the behavior of someone casually exploring a new residence. This is a hunt.
My mind is working quickly, but it's hard to think straight with Ivy's scent so intense in this space. The floor between her and Valek seems increasingly insubstantial. Even industrial-strength scent neutralizers can only mask so much.
