"You're pathetic," I snarl in his face. "What kind of alpha lets anything keep him from his omega? What kind ofman?"
He doesn't fight back. Doesn't even try to break free. Just stares at me with those cold blue eyes that are so much like his brother's.
I see why Cosima poisoned Plague's drink.
"The kind who doesn't have a choice," he says quietly.
"Bullshit." I press harder, feeling his pulse jump under my arm. "There's always a choice. You just made the wrong fucking one."
"Did I?" His voice is strained but steady. "Tell me, Vlakov, what would you know of Cosima's past? Of the man who controls everything, including her future?"
That makes me pause. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"It means," he says slowly, like he's explaining something to a child, "that sometimes the best way to protect someone is to stay away from them."
"That's the most pathetic excuse I've ever heard." But I ease up slightly. I want to hear what the son of a bitch has to say, even if it's only to satisfy my own curiosity.
"Sounds like the bullshit excuse of a man saving his own ass to me," Geo says, moving closer. He cracks his knuckles experimentally, shifting off his fucked-up knee like he's gearing up for another round. "But let's hear him out. Should be entertaining. What does Maybrecht have on you that's so damning it's worth abandoning your own omega?"
Even Knight leans in, those burning blue eyes fixed on Azarel from behind his impassive silver mask like he's trying to see into his soul. Or maybe just figuring out the best way to rip it out.
Azarel's quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is so low I almost miss it.
"Her."
Geo blinks. "Come again?"
"Her," he repeats, louder this time. "The thing Maybrecht was threatening me with. The reason I couldn't get to her sooner. It washer."
The words hang in the air like a fucking grenade with the pin pulled.
"That doesn't make any fucking sense," Raven says, but his knife has stopped twirling. "She wasn't even in his custody."
Azarel's eyes bore into mine, and for the first time since he walked in, I see what might be genuine emotion.
Pain.
"Arthur Maybrecht does not make idle threats," he says deliberately, his voice gravel. "And as long as he is alive, he holds the strings to Cosima's fate."
Before I can respond, Geo throws an uppercut into Azarel's solar plexus that sends the other massive alpha flying across the wall.
Azarel's back on his feet, meeting the violence in kind when Geo lunges for him again.
They crash together like a couple of rabid dogs, and I have to admit, watching Geo finally get to take a swing at this pompous prick is almost as satisfying as doing it myself would be.
Almost.
Is this pack bonding? Always figured it was warm and fuzzy bullshit like fishing trips and golfing, but I could get my head around this. Watching each other beat the shit out of the asshole who hurt our omega.
Geo's fist connects with Azarel's ribs with a meaty thunk. The prince doubles over, but he's not some pampered royal who's never been in a real fight. He comes up swinging, catching Geo across the jaw with enough force to snap his head sideways.
"Fuck," I mutter, settling back against the wall to enjoy the show. "This is better than the fights they used to stage in the wasteland pits."
Raven's practically buzzing with excitement beside me, that knife of his still twirling between his fingers like he's itching to jump in. "Twenty gold coins says Geo drops him in under two minutes."
"You're on," I scoff.
Either way's a win for me.
