Page 50 of Rook

His lips twitch, almost a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Fuck—he’s aged years these past few months. I feel like it was just days ago that I was taking him out on his first job.

Me and Rook walked him into Dreamland, none the wiser, green as grass.

And now…now we’re here.

The room feels smaller with each passing second, the air heavy with things unsaid. Outside, the city hums with life, unaware of the quiet drama unfolding within these walls. In here, it’s just Gunnar and me, our shared history, and the uncertain road ahead.

“So spill it, Gunnar. What the hell are you doing with Nero Rossi?” I lean forward, my voice edged with a mix of concern and disbelief. The ice numbs my lip, but there’s a different kind of ache settling in my chest—a fear for what his answer might entail.

He takes a deep pull from his glass, jaw working as he sets it down with a clink on the coffee table. “Nero’s got resources. Told me he could get me out of Pacific City.” He rubs at his temple, wincing slightly. “Out from under Vance’s thumb—from both our brothers. We have a bond, in a way—younger siblings and all that.”

“Christ, Gunnar. You believe him?” I ask, studying his face. Gunnar’s never been one to trust easily, and the fact that he’s even considering it sends warning signals through my mind.

“Believe? No, not really. But desperate times, Luka.” He leans back into the cushions, the lines of exhaustion etched deeply into his face

“Desperate enough to risk our necks on the word of Nero fucking Rossi?” I push, needing to understand. Needing to know how far gone he is. Nero’s been a business partner, sure…but never a friend. The Rossis have always been dirty.

“Desperate enough to consider every option,” he replies curtly. “Besides, Nero has just as much to lose if things go south. Assassination attempts aren’t exactly good for business, especially when you’re low on allies.”

“Are you sure about that?” I prod further. “You think Nero didn’t have a hand in the attempt on Aisling’s life? On mine, Rook’s…Oberon’s?”

Gunnar’s jaw clenches, the muscle ticking. He takes a long pull from his glass, setting it down with a thud that seems to echo in the tense air between us. “I wouldn’t put it past him. But no, I don’t think so. It doesn’t add up.”

“Meaning…?”

“We don’t have enough allies to kill the only people who give a damn about us,” Gunnar says. “And he doesn’t care to isolate me. If anything, he wants me to make amends with the pack.”

“Fine.” I let out a breath and shift, feeling the ice numbing my swollen lip. “But listen, no matter the mess we’re in, you gotta know something.”

He looks at me, eyes like chips of flint, waiting.

“None of us want to see you hurt. Aisling, Oberon, Rook…hell, even Vance.” The words feel heavy, but they hang there, true. “Everyone’s worried sick. They want you back, Gunnar.”

His laugh is humorless, rubbing at his face with a hand that’s suddenly unsteady. “Back, huh? And pretend like nothing happened? I don’t…I don’t know if I can forgive her, Luka. Aisling—“

“Nobody’s asking for instant forgiveness.” I cut in, maybe too quick. “Just come home. Sort the shit out there.”

He shakes his head slowly. “I want the best for Aisling. Always have. Even now. But trust and forgiveness…that’s a steep damn hill to climb.”

I lean forward, elbows on my knees, the ice pressed to my lip forgotten for a moment. “Look, the claiming on New Eden…that wasn’t her fault, Gunnar. It wasn’t mine either. Both of us were high on eros. It’s like our brains got hijacked. What happened was brainwashed rape, pure and simple.”

Gunnar puts his glass down with a clink, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he stares into the amber liquid. “Luka, it’s not just about New Eden,” he says, voice barely above a growl. “It’s the lies, man. All the damn time she’s been manipulating us, pulling strings like we’re pieces on her fucking chessboard.”

I flinch, not because he’s wrong, but because hearing it out loud cuts deep. “Manipulation or not, we’ve all been played at some point. But Aisling…she’s different now.”

“Is she?” His eyes meet mine, searching for an ounce of doubt. “Or is she just better at the game?”

“Wouldn’t know,” I reply with a shrug. “Haven’t seen much of her since we got back from the island. Just…just think about it, okay? We’re all messed up. But we’re pack. And pack sticks together.”

“Sticking together means trust,” he counters, the weight of betrayal heavy in his voice. “And I’m running real low on that these days, Luka.”

The silence that follows is thick enough to choke on. We sit there, two broken alphas, trying to piece together what was once unbreakable.

“Look, man,” I insist, leaning forward. “She’s trying to make things right. She’s kept her distance because she knows how you feel about…about everything that went down. She wants you to trust her again.”

Gunnar shakes his head, swirling the drink in his hand. “You think it’s that easy? Just a snap of the fingers and all’s forgotten?” He scoffs, his gaze hollow. “I don’t know if I can ever look at her the same way.”

“Nobody’s asking for amnesia, Gunnar. Just…” The words jam up in my throat, battling with the frustration and the urge to knock some sense into him. “Just consider that she’s not the enemy here.”

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