Unhinged Omega: A Dark Reverse Harem Omegaverse Romance (Ghost Alpha Unit Book 4)

My dark coat whips around my legs, the fabric stiff with dried salt from the harsh wind coming off the Surhiiran lake as I scan the docks for a suitable vessel. Not my usual military attire, but discretion is paramount. The scarf wrapped around the lower half of my face in traditional Surhiiran style helps conceal my identity, though few would recognize me now anyway.noveldrama

I’ve changed since my days as a prince.

The docks are busy despite the late hour, fishermen and merchants going about their business in the silvery moonlight reflecting off the dark waters. Perfect. More chaos means less chance of drawing attention.

My boots click softly against the weathered planks as I make my way past rusted shipping containers and piles of nets. The pungent stench of fish and diesel fuel makes my lip curl in distaste in spite of the scarf. A group of dockhands give me a wide berth as I pass, their eyes skittering away from my commanding presence.

I spot the perfect target lounging against a stack of crates. A grizzled fisherman, clearly deep in his cups judging by the nearly empty bottle dangling from his fingers. The scarf hanging halfway off his weathered face is flushed, and he leers hungrily at a pair of girls in white Surhiiran robes as they hurry past.

Perfect.

I approach silently, my footsteps masked by the constant slap of waves against the pier. The fisherman doesn’t notice me until I’m practically on top of him. He startles, nearly dropping his bottle as he looks up at me with bleary eyes.

‘Evening,’ I say smoothly, my accent carefully neutral. ‘I require passage across the lake.’

He squints at me, swaying slightly. ‘Dock’s closed,’ he slurs. Doesn’t sound Surhiiran. Even better. ‘Come back tomorrow.’

I reach into my coat and withdraw a thick envelope. ‘I think you’ll find it’s quite open.’ I fan the bills, letting him see the considerable sum within. ‘For a private charter.’

The fisherman’s bloodshot eyes widen at the sight of so much money. I can practically see the gears turning in his alcohol-addled mind as he weighs his options.

‘Where to?’ he asks finally, greed winning out over caution.

‘The far shore toward the old mines,’ I lie, tucking the envelope away. He’ll find out where we’re really going soon enough. ‘It’s my favorite place to enjoy the moonlight on a night like this.’

He pales slightly at that, some of his drunken haze clearing. ‘That’s… that’s restricted waters. Dangerous.’

‘Hence the generous compensation.’ I step closer, using my height to loom over him. ‘Do we have an agreement?’

The fisherman licks his lips nervously, but his eyes keep darting to where I stored the envelope. ‘Yeah… yeah, alright. My boat’s this way.’

He leads me to a battered fishing vessel, rust streaking its hull and patches of peeling paint revealing the metal beneath. It’s seen better days, but it’ll serve my purposes.

As the fisherman fumbles with the moorings, I think of the intelligence I’ve gathered. The ‘interrogations’ were… productive. My brother’s pack has taken refuge in an abandoned compound on the far shore. Plague thinks himself clever, but he can’t hide from me forever.

Not when he has something that belongs to me.

The boat’s engine sputters to life, belching black smoke into the night air. I follow the fisherman up the short ladder to the wheelhouse.

‘Straight across then?’ he asks, adjusting various dials and gauges.

‘Yes.’ I rest my hand casually on the hilt of the knife concealed beneath my coat. ‘Make good time and there will be a bonus.’

He nods eagerly and pushes the throttle forward. The boat lurches away from the dock, cutting a white wake through the dark water. I move to stand by the grimy window, watching the shoreline recede behind us.

Soon, brother.

We’re about halfway across when I notice the change in the fisherman’s demeanor. His hands are trembling slightly on the wheel, and sweat beads on his brow despite the chill.

‘We should turn back,’ he says suddenly, his voice tight with fear. ‘This… this isn’t right.’

I don’t move from my position by the window. ‘Continue on course. In fact, you should veer left. Toward the old military outpost.’

‘F-fuck. You didn’t really want to go to the mines, did you?’

‘No.’

‘You don’t understand,’ he protests, already beginning to turn the wheel. ‘These waters… they’re watched. By him. The biggest fuckin’ alpha you’ve ever seen. And they say his face⁠—’

In one fluid motion, I draw my knife and press it against his throat. He freezes, a whimper escaping his lips as the sharp blade breaks skin.

‘I understand perfectly,’ I say softly. ‘And you have a choice to make. Either you take your chances and keep moving… or you die here and now, by my hand.’ I apply slightly more pressure, drawing a thin line of blood. ‘Choose.’

The fisherman swallows hard, his scruffy throat bobbing against my blade. ‘I… I’ll keep going.’

‘Wise decision.’

I maintain my position, knife steady against his throat as he steers with shaking hands. The old military outpost is visible now, a dark shape against the starlit sky.

Movement catches my eye. A flash of white through the darkness. I narrow my eyes, focusing on the approaching shape. Another vessel cutting through the waves with surprising speed.

‘Maintain course,’ I order the fisherman, finally withdrawing my blade. He sags in relief, but I barely notice as I stride out of the wheelhouse and onto the deck.

A white sail appears like a ghost through the darkness, stark against the moonlit waters. Even at this distance, I can make out two figures aboard. One at the helm, the other a looming shadow near the bow—a massive behemoth of an alpha.

The Ghosts’ infamous attack dog.

Wraith.

‘Keep her steady,’ I order the fisherman, my voice carrying easily over the engine’s rumble despite the wind. His only response is a terrified whimper.

I move to the rail, watching the approaching vessel with practiced detachment. It cuts through the waves with surprising speed, angling on an intercept course that will bring them alongside us within minutes.

This is no chance encounter.

They’re hunting.

A harsh laugh curls across the water, followed by what sounds like Vrissian cursing. I narrow my eyes, focusing on the figure at the helm. Even in the darkness, that bone-white hair is unmistakable.

Valek.

The psychopath my brother’s pack keeps on a leash.

‘You don’t understand what you’re getting into,’ the fisherman calls from the wheelhouse, his voice cracking with fear. ‘That’s them. The Ghosts. We need to turn back!’

I ignore his protests, my mind already analyzing the trajectory of the ship. The sailboat is faster, more maneuverable. But their approach vector gives away their intentions.

They mean to ram us.

A low, inhuman growl echoes across the water—a sound that would freeze the blood of lesser men. Wraith stands at the bow of their vessel like some ancient figurehead of death, one massive hand gripping the mast for balance. Even at this distance, I can see the moonlight glinting off the scars visible above the Surhiiran scarf covering his lower face.

‘Evening, brother-in-law!’ Valek’s mocking voice carries across the waves. ‘Lovely night for a swim, isn’t it?’

I don’t bother responding. Instead, I draw my gun and brace myself against the rail, counting down the seconds.

Three…

Two…

One…

The impact nearly throws me off my feet. Wood splinters and metal screams as the sailboat’s reinforced bow crashes into our port side. The fisherman hollers and curses in fear, but the sound is cut short as he’s thrown against the wheel.

I maintain my footing through years of practice, already moving as Wraith launches himself at me and my first bullet misses him by an inch. I meet his charge head-on, ducking under his first wild swing and driving my fist into his solar plexus. It’s like punching a brick wall.

His fist whistles past my ear again as I pivot, the sheer force of his swing creating a rush of air. His fighting style is pure brutality. No finesse, just raw power and animalistic fury. Each blow would shatter bone if he can land one.

I weave under another wild swing. My counter-strike catches him in the throat, a blow that would crush a normal man’s windpipe. Wraith barely grunts.

The deck lurches beneath us as the waves crash against the joined vessels. I use the momentum to drive my knee into his midsection, following through with an elbow strike to his temple. The loose scarf covering his face slips, revealing a flash of sharp teeth.

His hand snaps out, impossibly fast for someone his size, catching my arm. Before I can break free, he slams me against the cabin wall hard enough to crack the wood. Stars explode behind my eyes and my gun clatters onto the boat’s deck, but training takes over. I twist, using his grip as leverage to drive both feet into his chest.

We separate, circling each other in the confined space. Blood trickles down my back where the splintered wood caught me. Wraith’s breathing is heavy, but whether from exertion or excitement is impossible to tell. His loose scarf snaps around him in the wind as he stares me down like a feral beast, blue eyes burning above a permanent scarred grin full of exposed sharp teeth, muscle, and jawbone.

It’s common knowledge he never lets anyone see his face, and up close, I can see why. Apparently, that has changed.

His notorious aggression certainly hasn’t.

‘Tell me where the omega is,’ I say through my teeth in a cold tone. ‘This does not have to end in death.’

All he does is growl in return.

Of course the two Ghosts who intercepted this vessel are the mute super soldier and the serial killer whose sanity is barely hanging on by a thread.

Speak of the devil.

I duck as a boot, then a knife, slice through the air where my head was a moment before. Valek lands beside me with all the fluid grace of a panther. He gives me a wolfish grin, silver eyes gleaming just as intensely as the wicked curved blade in his grip.

‘You know,’ Valek drawls, ‘I thought this evening would just be the usual boring patrol. Brotherly bonding and all that. But this? This is much more entertaining.’

I reply with a swift combination. Jab, cross, hook. He deflects the first two but the third catches him in the jaw, snapping his head back. Before I can press the advantage, Wraith’s massive hand closes around my throat from behind.

I drive my elbow back, feeling ribs crack under the blow. Any normal man would be on the ground. But Wraith isn’t normal. His grip only tightens as he hauls me off my feet with a deep growl of exertion, the bones of my neck grinding together.

Black spots dance at the edges of my vision as Valek swaggers up to us, swiping blood from his split lip with the side of his thumb. ‘Well, this is fun and all, but we should probably call it in.’ He produces a radio, his grin never wavering. ‘We have a fucking situation.’

Static crackles, then a familiar voice responds. My brother. Rage curls my lip at the sound of his voice. ‘What do you mean, a situation?‘

Valek snarls into the radio. ‘It’s your fucking brother!’

I kick back with a snarl, my boot connecting with Wraith’s kneecap. The joint gives with a sickening pop, and at the same time, I slam the back of my skull into his nose with every ounce of strength I possess.

There’s a satisfying crunch of cartilage. Hot blood sprays across the back of my head. Wraith’s grip finally loosens as he staggers back with a growl that’s more surprised than hurt despite the rivers of crimson blood painting his razor-sharp teeth.

Some of it may even be mine. The back of my head is soaked, my hair matted with more blood than what’s trickling from Wraith’s nose. Must have cut myself on his teeth.

Not that it matters.

This is nothing compared to what I’ve endured for her.

Sudden movement to the left draws my eye. The fisherman staggers out of the wheelhouse, one hand pressed to a gash on his temple where he hit the wheel during the collision. In his other hand, he clutches a weathered revolver.

At first, the gun is trained on me. But when the fisherman’s bleary eyes dart to Wraith and he takes in the full horror of the alpha’s mangled features, he swings the gun on Wraith instead.

‘A… a monster,’ the fisherman chokes out, the gun trembling violently in his grip.

Wraith’s entire demeanor shifts. His massive frame goes rigid, shoulders hunching as one hand flies up to cover what remains of his face. A sound rips from his throat—not a growl this time, but something raw and wounded.

The distraction costs him. I dive for my fallen gun, fingers brushing cold metal before Valek’s boot connects with the weapon, sending it skittering across the deck. His other foot catches me in the ribs, driving the air from my lungs.

‘Not so fast, pretty boy.’ Valek’s blade flashes in the moonlight as he brings it down in a vicious arc.

I roll, the knife missing my throat by inches and sticking into the deck. My elbow catches him behind the knee as I come up, dropping him. But before I can press the advantage, a massive hand closes around my ankle.

Wraith hauls me backward like I weigh nothing, his earlier vulnerability replaced by blind rage. I twist in his grip, driving my other heel into his hand, breaking his hold.

I spring to my feet, but both Ghosts are already circling me again. The fisherman’s gun barks once, twice. Both shots go wide, pinging off metal. Valek’s head snaps toward the sound, silver eyes narrowing.

‘Oh look, a volunteer.’ His grin is all teeth. ‘I do love an audience.’

But before any of us can move, a familiar voice cuts through the chaos.

‘Enough!‘

The command cracks across the deck like a whip.

My brother stands at the rail of a sleek speedboat that’s pulled alongside us, his expression thunderous. Whiskey stands beside him with a boot propped up on the bow, looking far too amused by the situation.

‘Where the fuck is Thane?’ Valek demands.

Whiskey’s grin widens. ‘Oh, he’s a little… tied up with Ivy at the moment, if you know what I mean.’

Valek’s silver eyes narrow. ‘Are you telling me he’s balls deep while we’re out here dealing with Asshole Rail?’

‘Azarel,’ I growl, my lip curling in irritation at his ‘creative’ pronunciation.

‘Yes, that’s your name. Would you like a gold star?’ Valek snaps at me, spitting blood into the water.

I don’t have time for this. ‘Where is she?’

‘Who?’ Whiskey asks me innocently.

‘Cosima.’ Her name comes out as a snarl. ‘Where. Is. She?’

Every muscle in my body screams with the effort of holding back. Of not tearing my brother and his pack of mongrels limb from limb.

But I must maintain control.

For her.

Always for her.

If only because I need information.

My brother just watches me with that insufferable calm that’s always defined him. Even now, even after everything, he maintains that carefully constructed mask of control.

It makes my blood boil.

‘Answer me!’ I snarl, taking a threatening step toward him. Wraith’s growl deepens to a dangerous pitch, but I ignore him. My focus is solely on my brother.

‘We moved her somewhere safe,’ my brother says finally, his voice maddeningly even. ‘That’s all.’

‘Safe?’ I bark out a harsh laugh. ‘Since when do you care about anyone’s safety but your own?’

Something unreadable flickers in his pale blue eyes, but his expression remains neutral. ‘Can you blame me? You haven’t exactly been reliable, brother.’

‘She’s my mate!’ I roar.

The effect is immediate. They all go completely still, watching me. But it’s my brother’s reaction I focus on. The slight widening of his eyes. The almost imperceptible stiffness in his shoulders.

After our last encounter, I’m certain he already suspected as much, but hearing something aloud is always a different matter. And I’ve never been the type to discuss romance with family. We have that in common.

Whiskey breaks the heavy silence with a low whistle. ‘Well shit,’ he drawls casually from his position on my brother’s boat. ‘He’s got a good point there.’

I watch as something unspoken passes between my brother and Whiskey. Some strange silent communication born of years fighting side by side. Or from whatever strange bond they share. My brother’s jaw works, the muscle twitching beneath his skin as he visibly wrestles with himself.

Finally, he lets out a long breath. ‘She’s at the airfield closest to the black market,’ he says, each word seeming to cost him. ‘With Nikolai Vlakov. You can’t miss it.’

Wraith’s head snaps toward him, surprise evident enough in his low growl even though he isn’t capable of much expression. I stare at my brother as well, trying to process what he’s just told me.

The airfield. Nikolai Vlakov.

After all this time hunting, the answer comes so easily?

Too easily.

‘Why tell me this now?’ I demand, my voice harsh with suspicion.

‘His boyfriend gave him the puppy eyes,’ Valek drawls, cleaning blood from his knife with casual disinterest. His silver eyes glitter with malicious amusement. ‘Incredible how much control you can exert over an alpha whose cock you⁠—’

I cut him off with a sharp snarl. ‘I do not want to hear that.’

Whiskey’s deep laugh rolls across the water. ‘What’s wrong, bro? Can’t handle knowing your baby brother’s getting his⁠—’

‘Finish that sentence and I will throw you overboard,’ my brother snaps at him, but there’s no real anger in his voice. If anything, he sounds vaguely irritated at the most.

‘I don’t have time for this,’ I growl. ‘If you’re lying…’

‘I’m not, brother.’

I study him for a long moment, searching for any sign of deception. But all I see is that same careful mask he’s always worn. The one that hides everything that matters.

‘Very well.’ I turn away, already stalking toward the wheelhouse where the sniveling fisherman is hiding again.

My brother’s voice cuts through the wind again. ‘Azarel.’

I pause at the wheelhouse door, not turning.

‘Be careful,’ he adds quietly.

Something unspoken hangs between us. Years of shared blood and betrayal. A chasm too wide to cross with mere words.

I glance over my shoulder. For a moment, my brother looks like he wants to say more. His pale blue eyes hold mine, searching. But whatever he sees there makes him look away first.

‘You always were terrible at goodbyes,’ I say.

‘Come on, Plague.’ Whiskey’s voice breaks the tension as he drapes an arm around my brother’s shoulders. ‘The sun’s almost up and he’s gotta go get his girl.’ He flashes me that insufferable grin. ‘Try not to die, asshole. Family reunions are so much more fun when everyone’s breathing.’

I turn away without responding, shoving the fisherman toward the wheel. Behind me, I hear Valek’s laughter fading and Wraith growling in response as their boats pull away into the darkness.

The sun bleeds red across the horizon as we cut through the waves.

Soon, Cosima.

Soon, you’ll be safe in my arms again.

And may the goddess help anyone who stands in my way.