Page 26 of Rook

“They’ve got those…” I shift back and forth on my feet, suddenly awkward. “Those heat spas, you know? With all the stuff for omegas to…you get it.”

Aisling blushes, Oberon snorts.

“Plus,” I lean in, ensuring my conviction doesn’t waver, “it’s urgent. You think I’d risk Ais’s hide if it weren’t?”

Oberon’s eyes narrow, gauging my sincerity, measuring the weight of my words. He knows me at this point—knows I’m not one to gamble with what’s ours unless I’ve got an ace up my sleeve.

“Alright,” he finally grunts, conceding the point. “But we play this smart. No risks with Ais.”

“Always,” I assure him, and from the look in Aisling’s eyes, she’s ready to face down whatever hellfire waits on the other side. “But I should tell you…”

I sputter out, going quiet. Aisling cocks an eyebrow.

“What, Rook?”

I drop the bombshell like a hot shell casing, “Gunnar’s in Oasis. He’s trying to sweet-talk Inari into backing him up to take Vance’s spot. And he’s not alone—Nero Rossi is throwing in with them.”

Aisling freezes, her fork mid-air, a piece of kung pao chicken forgotten. “Gunnar?” she repeats, her voice tight, the name loaded with a history that could write its own damned novel.

“Yep,” I say, watching closely as her grey eyes flash—a storm brewing in those depths. “The very same. Looks like he’s making his play, and he’s not playing by the usual rules.”

“Damn, Gunnar.” Oberon’s jaw clenches, his hand curling into a fist against the table. But Aisling? She’s already three steps ahead, her mind racing faster than my heartbeat after a street race gone sideways.

“Then we go. Now.” Her declaration slices through the tension, sharp and clear. No hesitation, no fear, just a burning need to confront the chaos head-on.

“And what are we going to do, exactly?” Oberon asks. “Seems like he’s put his mind to this suicidal task—“

“Which is why I have to talk to him,” she says, her gaze locking onto mine, steel-edged determination written all over her pale face. “I need to see him, talk some sense into him before he tears down everything we’ve built.”

“Sense?” I can’t help but bark a laugh. “From Gunnar? That’ll be the day.”

But Aisling doesn’t back down—never has. “He’ll listen to me. I’m still his mate…even if he wants to deny it.”

I blow out a breath. “I hope to god you’re right…but I’ll back you, Ais.”

“Thanks, Rook.” Her lips press together in a thin line, resolve shining like a blade. “Let’s do this.”

I flick the last of the takeout boxes closed, a greasy aftertaste clinging to the inside of my mouth. The clatter of plastic against wood slices through the heavy air, and I’m all too aware of the tension humming in the room like a live wire.

“Even if you can get Gunnar to sit down,” Oberon starts, his deep voice edging on cool despite the heat rising around us, “I doubt he’ll back off just because you ask nicely.”

His skepticism is a splash of cold water on Aisling’s fire, but she doesn’t shrink back. Instead, her eyes narrow, igniting with a spark that could light up the darkest corners of Pacific City.

“Maybe,” she concedes, the word almost slipping out as a growl. “But I’ve got to try.”

“Sure, you’re stubborn,” Oberon shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest, every inch the unmovable mountain. “But so’s Gunnar. And this…it’s more than just a rough patch. It’s a power play.”

Aisling glares at him. “You’re starting to sound an awful lot like a big bossy alpha now that Gunnar’s—“

“Speaking of plays,” I cut in before the air gets any thicker, “Inari wasn’t the only one who rang me up.” I lean back against the couch, letting the silence stretch just a beat too long. “She wanted me to pass the message to Vance, too.”

The sentence lands with the weight of an unspoken ultimatum, and I watch as Oberon’s face hardens, the lines around his mouth drawing tight. Aisling’s reaction, though, is a different kind of turmoil—a hurricane threatening to spill from her eyes.

“Vance,” she breathes out, the name like a curse or a prayer—I can’t tell which.

“Yup. Vance.” I let the name hang between us, a ghost we can’t shake. “Seems everyone wants a piece of the kingpin these days.”

Oberon’s hand goes to his beard, scratching at the wiry hair in a rare show of hesitation. “Telling Vance is playing with fire, Rook. You know how he gets—“

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