"Behave," Geo snaps at me under his breath, his voice rough with exhaustion.
"I am behaving," I protest, though I can't quite keep the smirk off my face. "I didn't say a word."
"Your face is loud enough," he counters.
Raven snickers and the corner of Nikolai's mouth twitches.
"Need I remind you, we're lucky we're not walking to a guillotine?" Geo mutters, glaring at us all.
"Yet," Nikolai adds helpfully, adjusting his flashy red glasses.
Raven perks up at the mention of execution. "Oh, I was almost guillotined once," he says with the same cheerful tone most people use to discuss the weather. "Back in Reinmich. Nastybusiness, really. But I offered to blow the executioner, got the upper hand, and cut his dick off instead."
We all stare at him. Whiskey looks green, like he's imagininghisdick getting cut off. Even Plague looks mildly disturbed.
"What?" Raven shrugs, completely unrepentant. "I let him finish first. I'm not amonster."
Geo lets out a weary sigh that seems to come from the depths of his soul. "I mean it," he whispers urgently. "Everyone on good behavior. We don't need the royals deciding to lop off our heads because we're a pack of animals with no manners."
I bristle at the implication. "Excuse me? I have excellent manners. I went to the finest finishing schools in Reinmich."
"Schoolswith an 's'implies you had to go twice," Nikolai quips.
"Oh, fuck off," I hiss.
"Such finish."
Geo's eye fixes on me with the look of a man who's reached the end of his rope. "You'rethe most rabid mongoose in the whole pack."
"I'm pretty sure a pack of mongoose is called a band," Raven chimes in.
"It's mongeese," Whiskey calls from behind us, his voice dripping with overconfident alpha authority. He turns to Plague with a grin. "Right, babe?"
"No," Plague says flatly.
The palace interior is even more opulent than I remembered from our brief tour-turned-kidnapping-spree. Marble floorsgleam under crystal chandeliers, and every surface is covered in enough gold to sink a ship. The entryway soars above us, supported by elaborate columns that make it look every inch the palace it is.
Plague pauses in the center of the space, his pale blue eyes scanning the area with obvious confusion. "Where's Ivy?"
The other Ghosts exchange glances. Thane shrugs. "Thought she'd be here to greet us."
"She's probably still dealing with the rescue mission," Valek suggests, though he sounds uncertain.
Whiskey frowns. "That's not like her. She usually?—"
"We should deal with medical first," Plague interrupts, his commander mask sliding back into place. "Everyone's injured, and we need to assess the damage before?—"
"No," Geo cuts him off.
"Absolutely not," Nikolai adds.
Knight's growl is low enough to make the floor rumble.
I look around at my battered pack—because that's what they are now, isn't it?—and feel something twist in my chest.
They're all hurt. Knight's metal arm is badly damaged, sparks shooting from the joints every few seconds. Geo's favoring his left leg so heavily he's practically hopping. Nikolai's got blood seeping through his shirt from gods know how many wounds. And Raven's beautiful face is a mess of cuts and bruises, his nose clearly broken.
They need medical attention. But I know these stubborn bastards well enough to know they'll refuse on principle.
