Page 100 of Claimed By the Psychos

"Man after my own heart." He claps me on the shoulder, the gesture surprisingly comfortable even though it would normally make my skin crawl to be touched by an alpha, even casually. I don't shrug it off as quickly as I usually would. "Come on. Let's get out of here before someone comes looking."

We leave the body in the alley, just another casualty in a city full of them. The bikes are where we left them, faithful metal steeds waiting to carry us back to that ridiculous mansion in the mountains. But for now, for this moment, things feel clearer.

As we mount up, I find myself saying, "You're not the patronizing, overbearing asshole I expected."

What he is might be more dangerous. An alpha I actually don't mind having at my back. An alpha whose approval I almost,almostcare about.

Bane laughs, full and genuine. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"I meant it as one."

We ride back through the night, and something's shifted between us. Not friendship exactly, but understanding. Recognition of what we are under all the pretense, killers who've found ways to justify the violence we crave. His way involves saving omegas and playing hero. Mine involves vengeance and protecting the one person who matters.

But at the core, we're the same. Predators pretending to be people, finding purpose in the blood we spill.

The mansion appears through the trees like something out of a fairy tale. Juniper's probably asleep by now, curled in that nest that smells like pack, dreaming whatever dreams the shadows whisper to her. Lately, the whispers seem to be gentler and all I can do is hope they stay that way.

Tomorrow I'll go back to the laptop, back to tracking shell companies and following threads that all lead back to our client eventually. Tomorrow I'll keep planning my exit, my own personal war, my probable death.

But tonight, with blood under my nails and understanding from an unexpected source, things feel manageable. The path forward is clear. Help them end this threat. Keep Juniper safe. Then handle what needs handling, even if it destroys me in the process.

It's not much of a plan, but it's mine.

Chapter

Thirty-Seven

ARCHER

The computer screen burns my retinas at three in the morning, but I keep scrolling through financial records like they might suddenly make sense if I stare hard enough. Shell companies nested inside shell companies, money trails that disappear into offshore accounts, and not a single fucking lead that goes anywhere useful. Whoever hired our two omega assassins to kill us knows how to hide their tracks better than most governments.

I lean back in my chair, rubbing my eyes until I see stars. The office Carlisle insisted on setting up in this ridiculous mansion is like something out of a mob movie. Right now it's just me, a cold cup of coffee that tastes like shit, and enough conspiracy-theory-level documentation spread across three monitors to make me look like I've lost my mind.

The door creaks open, and I smell her before I see her, sweet flowers mixed with something restless. Juniper pads in barefoot, wearing one of Elias's button-downs that hangs to her thighs, her hair a mess like she's been tossing and turning instead of sleeping.

"Can't sleep?" I ask, though the answer's obvious from the shadows under her eyes.

"You're one to talk." She moves into the room with that predator grace she never quite turns off, even when she's trying to appear harmless. "What're you doing?"

"Chasing ghosts." I gesture at the screens. "Trying to figure out who wants us dead badly enough to hire professional killers and then send a hit squad after said killers when they failed."

She perches on the edge of my desk, bare legs swinging, and I try not to notice how the movement makes the shirt ride up. Try not to think about what happened during her heat, the way she tasted, the sounds she made.

Business, Archer. Focus on business.

"Find anything interesting?" she asks, leaning over to squint at the screen, and her scent gets stronger. Not heat-sweet, but anxious.

"Nothing useful. Whoever's behind this has more lawyers than a pharmaceutical company and better accountants than the mob." I minimize a window showing another dead-end transaction. "But I'll keep digging. Eventually everyone makes a mistake."

"Mmm." She picks up a pen from my desk, starts taking it apart with the kind of focused intensity that means her mind's somewhere else entirely. "That's what Felix always says. Everyone makes mistakes. You just have to wait long enough to see them."

The way she says his name like it hurts makes me look at her more carefully. Really look. The tension in her shoulders, the way she keeps glancing at the door like she's expecting someone who isn't coming.

"Juniper." I roll my chair back from the desk. "Come here."

She raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because you're about to vibrate out of your skin and it's making me nervous." I pat my lap. "Come on. Talk to me."