Page 51 of Rook

“Isn’t she?” he murmurs.

But before he can elaborate, there’s a knock at the door.

We both freeze, our heightened senses kicking in. It’s like a current ripples through the room, and we know—it’s Aisling on the other side of that door. Her presence is unmistakable, even without seeing her face or hearing her voice. The mating bond sets me on edge, and I can see it in Gunnar’s eyes too.

That’s why she’s dangerous…because she has us all wrapped around her finger.

Gunnar sets his glass down with a clatter and stands, his movements rigid. I push myself off the couch, the stickiness of drying blood pulling at my split lip. In the few steps it takes him to reach the door, I see the conflict raging behind his steel-gray eyes—the war between what his heart wants and what his pride demands.

He hesitates at the doorknob, a tremble betraying the firm set of his shoulders. And I realize, despite all his posturing, Gunnar is just as lost as the rest of us.

Chapter twenty-three

Rook

The Bellanova’s neon sign flickers at my back as I shove my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket and take to the streets. The air is thick with the scent of spilt oil and stale booze, a stench I’ve come to associate with freedom—or something like it.

Oasis sprawls out before me, a city alive with the kind of energy that only comes when everything’s for sale. Neon lights buzz overhead, casting long shadows across my path. Memories slip through the cracks in the pavement, rising up like ghosts as I pass the old haunts and hidden alleyways where I cut my teeth.

“Rook Rainier,” I muse, the name still tastes odd on my tongue, like borrowed shoes you gotta break in. “You made it out, you bastard.”

Not so long ago, I was just a number, another body in the chain gang of the European Authority, until Inari Toure’s coin bought my ticket out. I remember the first time I stepped foot in one of her labs, the sterile smell of chemicals mixing with sweat—a cocktail of desperation and ambition. My hands shook as I measured and poured, learning the ropes fast because screwing up wasn’t an option.

I’d already screwed up once, and it damn near cost me my life.

From that day on, I was always careful.

And it was different with Inari—different than working in that EA lab, where I helped manufacture alpha supremacy. The Palms, Inari’s gang, they took me in, gave me a purpose. It was there, among the vials and burners, that Rook Rainier was forged from the remnants of a life left to rust.

The Moonshine Lounge looms ahead, its flickering sign a beacon in the encroaching dusk. I shove my hands into the pockets of my jacket, feeling the old familiar pull of this place, like a thread tugging at the edges of my new life.

“Long time no see,” I mutter under my breath as I push open the door, the creak of the hinges sounding like a welcome back from an old friend. The scent of cheap booze and cheaper perfume slams into me. It’s a smell that’s somehow comforting, filled with memories of late nights and hushed exchanges.

I used to come here, a bag full of suppressants slung over my shoulder, dealing out doses to omegas who wanted nothing more than to escape the relentless call of their biology. I wasn’t just a dealer; I was an ally. We were all trying to carve out some semblance of control in a world that didn’t want us to have any.

Taking a seat at the bar, I scan the faces. Time’s done its dance, shuffling the deck, leaving me with strangers where once there were familiar nods and half-smiles. The bartender—a male omega—throws me a glance, his eyes skimming past me like I’m just another shadow.

“Whiskey, neat,” I say, voice low, not looking for conversation.

“Got it,” he replies, pulling down a bottle with a label that’s seen better days.

The glass hits the bar with a soft thud, the amber liquid catching the light like molten gold. I raise it to my lips, letting the burn slide down my throat, a slow heat spreading through my chest. It feels like a handshake, an acknowledgment of the years gone by.

The seat next to me scrapes against the worn floor, and I don’t need to look to know someone’s claiming it.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” a voice like smoked honey greets me, rich and unexpectedly familiar.

My gaze snaps to the side, taking in the sight of Luna Lux—proprietress of the Moonshine, sharp as a tack, and a damn rare female alpha. Her hair falls in a cascade of silver waves, a stark contrast to the dim lighting of the bar, eyes like twin moons in an ink-dark sky that miss nothing.

“Didn’t think I’d see you back in Oasis,” she says with a smirk that’s all challenge and charisma.

“Evening, Luna.” I can’t help but grin back because despite everything, seeing her feels like stumbling onto an oasis in the middle of the desert. “Just passing through.”

“Is that so?” She signals the bartender with a flick of her wrist, and he nods, understanding immediately. “His drinks are on the house tonight,” she tells him, her tone brooking no argument.

“Thanks,” I say, giving her a nod of appreciation.

We go back, not in the way of lovers, but as two people who’ve seen enough darkness to recognize the light in each other. Luna’s always had a soft spot for strays and underdogs; maybe that’s why she never charged me for the drinks.

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