Page 21 of My Unhinged Alphas
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and turn fully to Knox.
“Fine,” I say. “What’s the damage?”
“Apostle’s directive,” he replies.
That gets my attention. The noise in the warehouse seems to dull around the edges.
“Specific?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I grin slowly. Now we’re talking.
Vale steps forward just enough that the light hits the side of his face. The scar pulls tight when his jaw clenches. “Target’s been operating quietly,” he says. “Not quiet enough.”
“Alive?” I ask.
“For questioning,” Knox answers.
I sigh dramatically. “You always ruin the fun.”
“You ruin the mission,” Knox says evenly.
Fair.
Knox steps closer so the others can’t hear. “Stay on task tonight.”
“I always do.”
“You don’t.”
I grin wider. “That’s your job,” I say. “Rein me in.”
Vale’s gaze flicks between us as the air shifts. This isn’t warehouse sport anymore. This is work. And I can feel it now, under my skin. That familiar hum. The one that starts in my chest and spreads outward like lightning looking for a place to land.
“Tell me it’s not paperwork,” I call out.
“It’s not,” Knox says.
The hum under my skin sharpens instantly. That restless energy that never really leaves me tightens into focus.
“Good,” I reply, already feeling it. “I was getting bored.”
Knox’s jaw shifts almost imperceptibly. Vale doesn’t smile, but there’s something darker in his eyes.
We don’t celebrate the same way. I’m louder about it. I enjoy the clarity of it, the finality. Killing is Decisive. Honest. Knox treats it like a task that needs to be done correctly. Vale treats it like a sin that needs to be committed.
“Alright,” I say, rolling my neck once. “Let’s go ruin someone’s night.”
Chapter 3
Knox
I drive.
The engine is so quiet it almost feels detached from the road, insulated from the outside world the way everything the Brotherhood owns is insulated. The car is custom, reinforced, armored in places no one would notice unless they tried to put a bullet through it. The leather is soft. The dashboard is seamless. The windows are tinted thick enough to blur faces from the outside while keeping our view crystal clear.
Havoc sits in the passenger seat with one hand resting loosely on his thigh, fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against his jeans. He’s calmer now than he was in the warehouse, which means he’s focused. That’s how he works. He bleeds off energy before a job, then goes still.
