Raven tries to circle around, probably planning to get behind Knight and restrain him somehow. It's not a great plan. Knight's enhanced hearing picks up the movement, and he whirls with inhuman speed, claws extended.
"No!" I scream, about to throw myself between them when Wraith appears out of nowhere.
He crashes into Knight from the side like a freight train, sending them both tumbling across the sand in a tangle of limbs and fury. The impact shakes the ground with the sickening crunch of metal against bone.
"Oh, fan-fucking-tastic," Whiskey mutters. "The unstoppable force just met the immovable one."
Wraith and Knight roll across the sand, each trying to gain the upper hand. They're almost evenly matched in size and strength, but Knight's augmentations give him an edge that even Wraith's natural resilience barely compensates for. Blood spatters the sand as claws find flesh and fists connect with devastating force.
"Yeah, great idea, Plague," Thane says dryly, not taking his eyes off the battle. "Hire a bunch of psychotic outlaws with an out-of-control rage machine that has no off switch to replace us. What could possibly go wrong?"
I've heard enough.
"KNIGHT!"
My voice cuts through the chaos, sharp with authority I don't feel and desperation in equal measure. Both monstrous alphas freeze mid-strike, Wraith's fist inches from Knight's mask, Knight's claws poised to tear Wraith's throat out.
Knight's head snaps toward me, his eyes widening slightly behind his mask. He's still in there, no matter what the rest of them think.
I don't give him time to do anything else, though. I stride forward, ignoring the collective intake of breath and shouts from every alpha present. Ignoring the way Geo tries to grab me. Ignoring the fact that I'm walking toward eight feet of muscle and violence that just tried to kill everyone.
"It's okay," I say to Knight, my voice steady despite the way my hands are shaking. "I'm here. I'm safe."
Knight releases Wraith and staggers to his feet, swaying slightly. There's blood seeping through gaps in his armor, and his metal arm sparks intermittently. He's hurt.
But he doesn't attack. Doesn't move toward me. Just stands there, trembling with the effort of holding himself back.
"Come here," I whisper, extending my hand.
He takes a halting step forward, then another. When he's close enough, I reach up and rest my palm against his mask, right where his cheek would be. He goes completely still, like he's afraid to breathe.
"There," I murmur, stroking the silver metal with my thumb. "That's better."
The transformation is immediate. The rigid tension bleeds out of his massive frame, his shoulders sagging as the berserker rage finally releases its hold. He leans into my touch like a giant cat seeking comfort, a soft rumble building in his chest that's nothing like the feral roars from moments before.
I slide my fingers up to thread through his white hair, and he practically melts under the contact. Whatever programming or conditioning turned him into a weapon, whatever trauma fractured his mind, it all seems to quiet when I touch him like this.
Strange that the lingering haze around the edges of my mind fades, too.
"There's the off switch," Plague says dryly, looking over at Thane.
Thane grunts, shooting his packmate a look that could melt steel. "Let's just get back to the palace. Ivy's waiting."
The mention of their omega seems to galvanize the Ghosts. Valek lowers his rifle, though he keeps it ready. Whiskey hauls Wraith to his feet, the scarred alpha swaying but mobile. Plague just watches me and Knight with those calculating pale blue eyes, like he's trying to solve a particularly complex equation.
"So," Plague says finally. "Are we doing this?"
I look around at the alphas that have moved to surround me, even if it means being in closer proximity to the mutated alpha who was just trying to kill them moments ago.
We're criminals. Fugitives. We just kidnapped a fucking prince and somehow managed to turn it into a job interview.
It's the most ridiculous thing that's ever happened.
"Do we have a choice?" I ask dryly.
Plague's bloodied lips curve into a smirk. "There's always a choice. But some choices lead to prison. Others lead to a very comfortable life serving Surhiira's interests."
"And if we refuse?" Nikolai asks gruffly.
