Page 45 of Rook

I can’t help it—the words are out of my mouth before I can rein them in. The volume of my voice cuts through the bar’s murmur like the crack of a whip, and suddenly, every eye in the Bellanova seems to turn our way. Bartender’s brow creases, a couple of bodyguards by the door shift their weight, hands inching toward concealed weapons.

“Keep your voice down, Gunnar,” Nero says under his breath, the corner of his lip twitching in annoyance—the only tell in an otherwise flawless smile. “It’s just business. And we’ve got an audience.”

“Business?” Luka snarls, leaning forward with a look that could curdle blood. “You’re being childish, Gunnar.” He’s close enough that I catch the scent of his frustration, a sharp tang beneath the usual alpha musk.

“Childish?” I fire back, my control fraying at the edges. “Heard that one already from Vance, thanks.”

Luka ignores the warning looks from Oberon, who’s trying to play peacemaker with a hand on his shoulder, urging him to drop it. But Luka’s too far gone, the confession bubbling up like acid. “Aisling didn’t want me to tell you, but—“

“Drop it, Luka,” Oberon growls, a hint of desperation in his tone.

”—they drugged us on New Eden!“ Luka blurts out, tormented eyes locked onto mine. “I marked her without her consent. We were both high on eros. I fucking…I assaulted her, Gunnar. She didn’t want me to because she was waiting for your approval.”

The revelation slams into me, a visceral blow that has my head spinning and heart raging. My fists clench at my sides, knuckles whitening as I fight the urge to leap across the table. Luka’s admission hangs heavy between us, a confession that threatens to shatter the tenuous hold I have on my rage.

“Waiting for my approval?” My voice cracks like a whip, and I can feel the beast within clawing its way to the surface. “You bastard.”

I don’t even feel myself move. It’s like watching someone else—a man possessed by fury itself—as I spring up and lunge across the table. My fist connects with Luka’s jaw with a satisfying thud, and he stumbles back, caught off guard. The force of my anger is a living thing, dark and relentless.

And I’m not fucking done.

I follow him backward, landing another punch in his gut. It feels good to hurt him—to watch as he coughs out a ragged groan, as he curses under his breath. He doesn’t even try to fight back, like he’s showing me I’m in charge.

Pack alpha…that’s what I am.

“Shit!” Nero curses as he grabs at my arms, trying to pull me back. Oberon is on his feet too, his own alpha strength fighting against mine as they both attempt to wrestle me away from Luka.

“Enough!” Vance roars, striding over with Rook close behind. There’s a wildness in his eyes that tells me this isn’t just about breaking up a fight—it’s personal, everything always is when it comes to Aisling.

“Let go of me!” I snarl, thrashing against the hold Nero and Oberon have on me. My blood sings with the need to tear into Luka, to make him pay for every ounce of pain Aisling must have felt. For every moment that I’ve suffered, not knowing…

Why does she always lie and lie and lie—

“Damn it, Gunnar, cool your head!” Oberon growls, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through the tense air. “This isn’t helping anyone!”

“Fuck that,” I spit out, pure venom in my words. “He marked her, Oberon! He fucking…he hurt her! How can you tolerate this?!”

“Everyone’s staring, stop this now!” Vance commands, looking around at the crowd gathering, their eyes wide and eager for the drama unfolding before them.

For a moment, there’s a standstill, the heavy breaths of all involved filling the space between us. Then slowly, reluctantly, I let them pull me away, each step back feeling like a mile. My fists uncurl, but the anger doesn’t fade—it simmers inside me, waiting for the next spark to set it ablaze once more.

“Of course you’d beat the hell out of Luka,” Vance spits out, his voice rising over the muffled sounds of the bar. “After what you tried to pull on the Mojave Skyway—trying to take us all out.”

I freeze mid-struggle, my anger throttling back a notch, replaced by confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Assassins, Gunnar!” Vance’s bright blue eyes flicker with a fury that matches the storm inside me. “On the Skyway, they came after us. Nearly blew us to hell. You think we wouldn’t figure it was you? They fucking told us, and you’re sitting here sipping drinks like…fuck, like you never even gave a damn. I get it with me, but Aisling? Oberon? Luke and Rook?”

“Me? Assassins?” Now, I’m the one taken aback. The idea is ludicrous. I’m a lot of things but not a coward who strikes from the shadows. My gaze snaps to Nero, searching his face for any hint of deceit. “Did you send them?”

Nero shakes his head, his dark hair swaying slightly as his brown eyes lock onto mine. “It wasn’t me, Gunnar. I swear.”

He says it with such conviction, I believe him. He’s too smart to lie when it could easily be traced back, and right now, his focus has been elsewhere.

“Then who the hell was it?” I demand, my voice a low growl, barely containing the tumultuous mix of betrayal and rage. The question hangs in the air like a guillotine blade poised to fall.

“Whoever it is,” Oberon interjects, his voice steady and commanding, “they’re playing games. And they want us at each other’s throats.”

“Seems like they’re getting their wish,” Rook mutters, eyeing the tension that still crackles between us.

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