Page 8 of Rook

“Thanks,” I murmur, feeling the weight of the past few days finally pressing down on my shoulders. I lean against him, seeking a sliver of comfort in this chaos we call life.

“Anytime, Stargazer.” His arm wraps around me, a steady presence as I let the exhaustion take over.

Oberon shifts slightly in his sleep, his breaths even and deep. As my eyelids flutter closed, I’m grateful for the warmth of Rook beside me, the solidness grounding us both.

In the end, we’re just a bunch of broken pieces holding each other together.

With Rook’s arm sheltering me and Oberon’s head a gentle weight in my lap, I surrender to sleep—it’s the only reprieve we get in the shadows of our reality.

Chapter four

Rook

The phone vibrates against the rough surface of the wooden table, an insistent buzz that’s impossible to ignore. I glance over to find that it’s a familiar—and welcome—face: my friend Marika down at the morgue.

Labeled, of course, “Marika: Morgue Buddy”.

I snatch it up, thumb swiping the screen with a practiced motion. “This is Rook.”

“Hey, it’s Marika. Got something fresh and rather curious on my slab. Thought you might wanna take a look,” her voice crackles through the line, a hint of that old excitement bubbling beneath her words.

I lean back in my chair, eyeing the tangle of scars etched across my knuckles. “Interesting how?”

“Let’s just say this one didn’t die from natural causes. And there’s a pattern I think you’d recognize.” She pauses, a silent nudge over the line.

“Alright, I’m in.” I cut the call short and push myself up.

Aisling’s grey eyes flicker to me from the couch, a silent question hanging between us. Oberon’s sprawled next to her, all casual ease and restless energy contained for the moment.

“Contact at the morgue’s got a body she wants me to see,” I say, my voice stripping away any pretense of normalcy. “Wanna come? We could grab a beer after, lighten the mood.”

“Morbid choice for a date,” Oberon chuckles, shaking his head. “There’s a lead on Gunnar I wanna chase. You two go play with the dead.”

“Sure, I’ll join,” Aisling’s lips curve into a half-smile, her gaze steady. “Besides, a cold corpse might be less complicated than dealing with Gunnar right now.”

“Then it’s settled.” I grab my jacket off the rack, feeling the weight of the day suddenly lift. Aisling rises, her movements fluid like she’s already anticipating the steps we’re about to take into the city’s dark underbelly.

“Let’s hit the road then,” I say, leading the way out the door, Aisling falling into step beside me. The promise of discovery, however grim, sparks a flicker of anticipation deep within my chest.

The city’s silhouette cuts into the dusk like a shard of broken glass—sharp, uneven, foreboding. I drive with one hand on the wheel, the other arm resting out the window, letting the cool air whip past my skin. Aisling’s beside me, her gaze fixed on Celestial Hills rising in the distance.

“Place looks more like a war zone than a city,” she murmurs, not taking her eyes off the skyline.

“Angels and Eclipse have always had a flair for the dramatic,” I reply, keeping an eye out for trouble. The streets are quieter than usual, but that doesn’t mean safe. It means everyone’s holding their breath, waiting for the next blow to fall.

“Think Vance has lost his edge?” She turns to look at me, her question casual but her eyes sharp with curiosity.

“Vance?” I snort. “Guy’s got more lives than a cat with a god complex. But he’s been playing solo too long; it’s messing with his head.”

“Or maybe he’s just preoccupied,” she says, a ghost of a smile touching her lips as though she knows something I don’t.

“Preoccupied or not, Caius Rossi won’t wait forever.” I tap my fingers against the steering wheel. “We landed a solid punch with New Eden, but Rossi’s not the type to stay down.”

“True,” she nods, “but Nero’s the one to watch. He’s got ambition and less to lose.”

“Less to lose, and everything to prove.” I glance over at her, catching a glimpse of the fire that lurks beneath her calm exterior. “And he’s been notably absent lately. I figured he was as good as dead.”

“Speaking of dead,” Aisling leans back in her seat, turning her attention back to the buildings rolling by. “What’s up with this corpse?”

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