Page 63 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

"It is bad, Whiskey."

"Yeah, okay, fair. But you've got us. Four alphas who'd die before letting Wade or anyone else hurt you. That's gotta count for something."

Her expression softens. "It does. You have no idea how much it counts."

The vulnerability in her voice makes my chest tight. I want to pull her into my arms, but Wraith's between us and I'm not even sure if that would be welcome right now. Physical affection's tricky when someone's been through what she has.

"So, who won the games?" Ivy asks Plague, her tone teasing.

Plague's ears go pink. “We both won.”

“Valek kicked your ass,” I tell him, grinning.

“Because a certain someone was distracting the fuck out of me,” Plague growls.

“Not my fault you think I’m hot.” My grin widens. Can’t help myself, apparently.

Plague’s eyes flick to his tea spoon like he’s considering scooping my innards out with it.

Ivy's laughing again, and the sound eases some of the tension in the room. Even Wraith's shoulders relax slightly, though he's still watching everyone with that intense focus he can’t seem to shake.

“We just missed you,” I say to Ivy, dropping the jokes for a minute. “He spent half the flight trying to get on the Wi-Fi so he could check the group chat.”

Ivy's smile is soft and warm and makes me feel like I just scored the winning goal in overtime. "I missed you guys too."

Wraith signs something else, movements definitely slower now. Sluggish, even. Ivy frowns as she watches.

"He says he's glad we're all together again," she translates, but her eyes stay on Wraith. "Are you okay?"

Wraith nods, but it's not convincing.

I set my mug down and stand, moving closer to the massive alpha. He tenses immediately.

"Hey," I say quietly, keeping my voice low. "Can we talk? Just you and me?"

Wraith looks at Ivy, then Plague, then back to me, his brow furrowed in confusion. But after a moment, he nods.

We move to the far corner of the loft, near the small kitchenette. It's darker here, which I think Wraith prefers. Even with his mask firmly in place, he’s shy as fuck.

I've been teaching myself sign language from YouTube videos and TikToks, trying to bridge the gap between us. It's not perfect—Wraith's version is basically his own invention, mixing ASL with gestures he comes up with himself—but I'm getting better at reading him.

"You okay?" I ask, signing along with my whispering even though I'm pretty ass at this.

He shrugs, which is Wraith-speak for 'no, but I don't want to talk about it.'

"Does it have to do with Ivy?"

He shrugs again.

I hesitate before asking my next question. "Did she see your face?"

His whole body goes rigid.

That's a yes.

I wince.

Shit.