"Now, now, let's not make this messier than it needs to be."
That voice. Smooth as oil and twice as toxic. Evan steps through the doorway like he's walking onto a stage, and even through the gas mask, I can see his smile. It's the kind of expression that makes you want to take a shower in bleach just from being in the same room with it.
Felix is starting to stir, groaning as consciousness drags him back to this nightmare. The others are waking too—Carlisle's fingers twitching, Bane's massive frame shifting as his body fights through whatever they drugged us with.
"Comfortable accommodations, I hope?" Evan continues, hands clasped behind his back like he's giving a fucking tour. "Nothing but the best for my special guests."
"I'm going to tear your fucking throat out," Bane growls, and even half-conscious, even barely able to lift his head, the threat carries weight. "Going to paint these walls with your blood, you piece of shit."
Evan laughs, the sound muffled but still sharp enough to cut. "Such language. And here I thought the legendary Psychos were supposed to be noble."
We're all moving now, instinct taking over even through the fog of whatever's in our systems. Carlisle's dragging himself between Evan and Juniper, Elias pushing up despite looking like he might vomit, Bane somehow getting to his knees. And me? I'm positioning myself to take a bullet if necessary, because that's what you do. That's what a pack does.
"Isn't this precious?" Evan's voice drips condescension like honey laced with cyanide. "The big strong alphas, ready to protect their poor, defenseless omegas. It's almost touching, really. Almost makes me believe you're different from every other alpha who's walked through my doors."
Felix is conscious now, silver eyes focusing with the kind of clarity that comes from pure hatred. "If you touch them?—"
"Touch them?" Evan interrupts, and I can hear the smile in his voice getting wider. "Oh, little brother. I don't need to touch anyone. That's the beauty of biology. Of chemistry. Of understanding what makes people tick at the most fundamental level."
He pulls something from his pocket—a small remote that looks innocuous enough to be a garage door opener. Guy likes his fucking toys. "You see, I've made a fortune off a very simple truth. Alphas are alphas. No matter how noble they think they are, no matter what pretty lies they tell themselves about control and respect and all that modern nonsense. Strip away the civilization, the social conditioning, the elaborate facades, and what's left?"
His thumb hovers over the button. "Instinct. Pure, animalistic, uncontrollable instinct."
"You're insane," Elias says, but there's something in his voice. Not just disgust. Fear. Like he knows exactly where this is going and doesn't want to be right.
"Am I?" Evan tilts his head, considering. "I've been in this business a long time, Doctor. Long enough to know that everyalpha has a breaking point. Every. Single. One. The only variable is how much pressure it takes. Let's find out, shall we?"
He presses the button.
The hiss starts immediately, gas pouring from vents I hadn't noticed, hidden in the corners where shadows gather. But this isn't the same as before. This doesn't burn, doesn't choke. It's sweeter, thicker, settling over everything like fog.
"I think it's time Felix and dear Juniper learned the truth about their noble protectors," Evan says, already backing toward the door. "Time they understood that an alpha is an alpha is an alpha. And when the veneer cracks, when the beast comes out to play... well. That's when things get interesting."
The door slams shut, locks engaging.
"Cover your faces!" Elias shouts, but it's already too late. We're all breathing it in, unable to stop, unable to do anything but watch the gas fill the room like dark water.
Except...
Juniper's not coughing. Neither is Felix. They're looking around, confused but not choking, not struggling to breathe like I expect them to be.
But something's wrong with me. My heart's hammering against my ribs like it's trying to escape, pulse racing so fast I can hear it in my ears. My skin feels too tight, like I'm burning from the inside out.
"Something's wrong," Carlisle says, and his voice is strained in a way I've never heard. He's clutching his chest, pupils blown wide, a sheen of sweat already breaking out across his forehead. "This isn't... fuck."
The scent hits me then, rolling over me like a tidal wave.
Juniper.
Sweet flowers and omega andmine. It's her scent but magnified, concentrated, turned into something that bypasses every higher brain function and goes straight to the primitiveparts that know only want, only need, only the desperate imperative to claim what belongs to me.
And Felix. Fuck, I can smell Felix too. Winter mornings and sharpness and omega hiding under all those layers of control. Two omegas, our omegas, and my body is responding like someone just injected liquid fire directly into my veins.
And then it hits me. It's not their scents that have changed, not really. It's my sense of smell that's heightened, like every other sense. The lights are too bright, the rattle of the vents is too loud, the heat under my skin is too intense.
Rut. The most intense version of it I've ever experienced, but the symptoms are familiar enough, if intensified.
"Pheromone gas," Elias gasps, and he's pressed himself into the corner like he's trying to get as far from them as possible. And he's clearly come to the same conclusion. "It's... it's forcing us into rut."
