Page 27 of Rook

“Jealous? Possessive?” I offer, my lips quirking up despite the gravity of our little powwow. “All of the above?”

“Let’s not forget paranoid,” Aisling adds, her voice steady even if her hands aren’t. “He’s been off since Gunnar started sniffing around, and since…”

We all saw it—the way he held Aisling after the raid on New Eden, how he told Gunnar to get lost. He’s had a thing for her since she showed up, and it’s making him crazy.

“So we don’t tell Vance,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Thing is—we need some serious security if we’re crossing the Mojave, even on the highway, and I have limited resources.”

“Then we bring Luka,” Aisling says. She looks at Oberon, and he gives her a subtle nod, approving. I don’t know what they’ve been talking about, but it seems serious. “He’s one of the toughest people I’ve ever met, and the backup we need.”

“You think he’ll come?” I ask.

She nods. “I know he will.”

“Alright, so Luka’s our guy for the Mojave run,” I say, sliding my empty plate away.

“Agreed. He’s got the muscle and the know-how.” Oberon nods, his brow furrowed in thought as he picks at the remnants of his meal.

“Fine,” I concede, pushing back from the table and standing up. “Tomorrow, we hit the road early. I’ll call Luka tonight, prep him for the trip.”

“Good. We’ll need all the daylight we can get crossing that hellscape,” Oberon remarks, a hint of unease creeping into his otherwise steady voice.

“Then it’s settled.” I toss a glance toward the window, where the night sky is just a canvas of endless black dotted with the flicker of distant stars. “Oasis by nightfall, with or without Vance’s blessing.”

We spend the next hour mapping out routes and checkpoints, the conversation a low buzz of strategy and what-ifs. By the time we’re done, my head’s swimming with plans and contingencies, but there’s a thread of anticipation too, coiling tight in my gut.

“Let’s pack it in. Big day tomorrow,” Oberon says, rising to his feet and stretching out the kinks in his back.

“Night, Oberon,” Aisling murmurs, already halfway to her feet, her mind clearly miles ahead on the dusty roads we’ll soon traverse. “I’m gonna stay up for a bit…don’t think I can sleep.”

“Night,” I echo, watching Oberon disappear down the hall before turning to Aisling. “You ready for this?”

“Born ready,” she responds with a smirk that promises trouble of the best kind. And I can’t help but think, bring it on.

I go to tidy up the dishes, a familiar anxiety coiling in my gut at the prospect of a dangerous journey tomorrow. Aisling comes to stand at the sink beside me and help, and we fall into a comfortable silence as we do the dishes.

The last plate clinks against the sink, and I flick off the lights in the kitchen. “Hey, Ais,” I say, thumbing over my shoulder at the console still warm from earlier. “Up for some virtual carnage before hitting the sack?”

“Alright then, Rook,” Aisling grins. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Chapter thirteen

Rook

“Your aim’s crap,” I grumble, watching Aisling’s avatar leap behind virtual cover, her shots spraying wild and wide. The controller’s unfamiliar to her hands, but there’s a gleam in her grey eyes that says she’s getting the hang of it.

“Shut it, Rook. I’m learning,” she shoots back, focus unwavering from the flickering screen where chaos reigns.

“Here.” I lean over, our shoulders brushing. “Squeeze the trigger, don’t yank it. Like you’re coaxing a secret out of someone, not demanding it.”

“Coaxing secrets now, are we?” she quips, but follows my advice. Her next burst of fire is tighter, more controlled. An enemy on the screen crumples. “Ha! Got him!”

“See? You’re a natural killer.” I smirk, but there’s no malice in it.

Just two insomniacs finding solace in the glow of the TV, the rest of the world faded to a dull hum.

“Never took you for a gaming type,” she says, tossing me a sideways glance between reloads.

“Spent enough nights like this, avoiding sleep, getting lost in pixelated battles.” My thumb hovers over my own controller’s joystick. “Sometimes it’s easier than real life.”

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