Page 42 of Rook

…and my lungs feel like they’ve hit vacuum for a second.

She’s wearing this dress that clings to her like it’s got a mind of its own, short enough to make imaginations run wild, red as Eve’s apple and sparkling like the night sky above the Bellanova.

“Wow,” is all I manage, and I’m pretty damn sure it comes out more breathless than I intend.

Aisling catches my eye, a smirk playing on her lips, and she bites down on them, a move so teasing it’s criminal. Oberon’s standing next to her, leaned back against the wall. He clocks the way I’m looking at Aisling, and a knowing smirk curls his lips.

“Easy, Rook,” Oberon teases, pushing away from the wall. “She’ll incinerate us all with that look if you don’t reel it in.”

“Shut it, Oberon,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in it. How could there be when Aisling’s in that dress? None of my words could possibly match her fire. I clear my throat, try to find some semblance of the plan we had going into this night. “You ready, Stargazer?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she says, voice steady, but there’s a hint of something else there—anticipation, maybe, or nerves. Hell, probably both.

“Alright then, let’s do this,” I say, attempting to sound more confident than I feel. “Inari’s waiting.”

My eyes dart to Luka, hoping he’s too preoccupied adjusting the cuff of his sleeve to notice my earlier slip-up. But I think he’s more preoccupied with Aisling than anything else—just as drawn to her, if not more so, and resisting the urge to grab her and kiss her.

I’m not an alpha…but somehow, I still get it.

“Everyone good?” I ask, and the question hangs between us like a challenge. It’s not just about being ready to leave; it’s a silent call to arms, a reminder of the stakes we’re all tangled up in.

Luka nods, his expression carved from stone. “Let’s go.”

I catch Aisling’s gaze once more. There’s a steel in her grey eyes that wasn’t there before, a quiet determination that speaks volumes of the battles she’s fought and the ones she’s bracing for.

Oberon moves first, stepping forward with the grace of a predator, his hand finding Aisling’s arm with protective familiarity. It’s a gesture that holds more than simple touch—it’s a claim, a reassurance, a promise of solidarity.

“Lead the way,” he says, voice low and steady.

The four of us head toward the elevator, our steps synchronized without need for rehearsal. We find an omega female bodyguard already stationed by the doors—she’s tall, her posture unyielding, the epitome of silent strength. She acknowledges us with a nod, her presence a stark reminder of the power plays at work in this gilded cage of a city. Omega guards are rare, but they’re all over here—and armed to the teeth. That’s Inari’s style though; her gang, the Palms, has more omegas than any other.

“Ms. Toure’s waiting for us,” I tell the bodyguard.

“I’m aware,” she says.

The bodyguard produces a keycard from the inner pocket of her blazer, a small action that somehow feels significant, like she’s unlocking more than just an elevator ride. She slides the card through the reader with a practiced motion, and the doors slide open, inviting us into the belly of the beast.

“Here we go,” I murmur to myself, as we step inside the elevator. The doors close with a soft hiss, sealing us off from the rest of the world for the brief ascent that awaits.

The elevator begins its ascent with a smooth hum, the lights above us casting a sterile glow on our faces. I’m standing close to Aisling, and I can feel the tension radiating from her like heat from pavement in high summer. Her skin is paler than usual, and those stormy grey eyes are clouded with memories best left forgotten. Dreamland—her prison, her nightmare—must be playing on repeat in her head.

“Easy, love,” Oberon murmurs, his arm slipping protectively around Aisling’s waist. He’s all calm reassurance, his presence a balm to her frayed nerves. “It’s just an elevator ride.”

I catch Aisling biting her lip—a nervous habit I’ve noticed only a couple times over the past few weeks.—and I have to look away before Luka notices the way my jaw clenches at the sight.

“Right. Just an elevator.” Her voice is a soft flutter, a stark contrast to the power I know roils beneath her surface. She’s a storm in human form, but even storms have their moments of stillness.

We rise higher, the digital floor indicator ticking off numbers like a countdown. I don’t miss the way Aisling’s hand grips the hem of her dress, her knuckles whitening. The red sequins shimmer under the artificial light, tiny flames flickering against the dark backdrop that is the rest of us. It’s a splash of color in a sea of muted tones, and it takes everything in me not to reach out and steady her trembling fingers.

“Almost there,” I say instead, keeping my voice neutral as I glance at the display. We’re nearing our destination, the top floor where Inari plays queen in her luxurious court.

As if on cue, the elevator dings its arrival, and the doors slide open to reveal the office—a vast expanse of power and wealth masked as decor. Priceless pre-Mutation art adorns the walls, scenes of battles and seduction that seem almost alive in the golden glow of elegant sconces. Plush rugs muffle our steps as we cross the threshold, their intricate patterns a silent testament to the opulence that permeates every inch of this space.

“Wow,” Luka breathes out, the awe evident in his voice.

If I hadn’t been here before, I’d have the same shock…but as it is, I can just appreciate Inari’s decor choices.

The view through the panoramic windows steals the breath from my lungs—it always does. Oasis sprawls out before us, a city of lights and shadows, of secrets whispered in the quiet spaces between heartbeats.

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