Page 72 of Rook

I take in a deep breath, tasting the charged air between us. It’s thick with unsaid possibilities, each more dangerous than the last. “We flip the script on him. We stage Vance’s murder, make it look like he’s out of the game. You, Gunnar, you step up as the new head honcho of the Angels. With Vance ‘dead,’ you could climb to Archangel status without breaking a sweat.”

Gunnar’s eyes light up with a dark glint, a predator smelling blood. “And how exactly do we pull this off?”

“Oasis,” I say, the word slipping from my tongue like a key fitting into a lock. “We’re here now, and Inari Toure clearly wanted to talk—to us, not to Vance. We get her help, stage the whole thing on her turf. She’s got the resources, the influence. And she’s cunning enough to make it look real.”

“Vance out of the picture…” Oberon trails off, pondering the implications.

“More than that,” I add, my words measured, “it puts us at an advantage. No one will see it coming. Not Caius Rossi, not the Eclipse, not the rest of the Angels. They’ll be scrambling while we’re already ten steps ahead.”

“Shit, that might just work.” Gunnar’s face splits into a rare grin, savage as it is satisfied. “That omega’s got brains to match her bite, and if we play our cards right, we’ll have Pacific City eating out of our hands.”

“Exactly.” I nod, feeling the thrill of the hunt surge within me. “We stay low, let Inari’s shadow cover our tracks. Then, when the dust settles, we reveal the truth. Vance gets to disappear, we get control, and everyone’s happy.”

“Except Vance,” Oberon points out, but there’s a note of admiration in his voice.

“Vance gets to keep his life. That’s more than he’d get from Nero or Caius,” I reply, my tone leaving no room for argument.

“Alright then.” Gunnar claps his hands together, decisive. “Let’s set the stage for the greatest vanishing act Pacific City has ever seen.”

“Good,” I say. “I’ll start putting the pieces into place.”

“Only one hiccup,” Gunnar’s voice cuts through the thick air as another muffled cry of ecstasy seeps through the walls. “This…it’s going to have to wait until her heat is over.” He jerks his head towards the sound, a wry smile pulling at his lips. “None of us can focus properly with Aisling burning up like that.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Oberon murmurs, eying the door with an intensity that speaks volumes.

“Her heat takes precedence,” I admit, though my thoughts are already churning with plans and contingencies. The need to protect, to strategize, runs deep in my veins. “But once it’s done, we move fast.”

“Agreed,” Gunnar says, standing with a stretch that rolls his shoulders. “We play the waiting game for now. But when it’s time to strike, we hit hard and we hit fast.”

“Exactly.” I stand too, feeling the coil of readiness within me. “Let me handle the groundwork. When Aisling’s back on her feet, we’ll be ready to roll out the plan.”

“Sounds good,” Oberon nods, his gaze still flickering toward the source of Aisling’s cries. “Just make sure you’re ready for anything. Vance isn’t the kind to go down without a fight, even if it’s just for show.”

“Understood,” I say, and there’s a finality to my tone that signals the end of the discussion. “I’ll keep you both updated. For now, you tend to your omega.”

Gunnar is already moving toward the door, like he can’t take the wait anymore as we all get up—me to go to the exit, Gunnar and Oberon back to Aisling.

“Later then,” Gunnar says with a nod, and he pivots to step back into the inner sanctum of Aisling’s heat.

In that split second when the door swings open, my eyes catch a snapshot that brands itself on my brain: Aisling’s pale skin glistening with sweat, her body moving rhythmically atop Luka’s. She’s facing me, legs spread, her hands gripping Luka’s chest, her body rolling in graceful rhythm.

She’s a vision of raw, unbridled desire, and as she lifts her eyes to the open door, our gazes lock.

It’s like a bolt of lightning through my chest, the connection immediate and electric.

“Rook.” Oberon’s voice cuts through the haze of my thoughts as the door closes again, his tone an anchor in the storm of my senses. “She’d want you in there, you know that.”

“Maybe,” I grunt, tearing my gaze away from the door as it closes, severing the visual link between me and Aisling. “But this isn’t about what she wants right now.”

“Isn’t it?” he challenges, one eyebrow raised in silent question.

“Look, she’s riding the crest of her heat. She might want me, but not like this,” I say, my voice firm even as my body screams otherwise. “I’m not just another body to warm her bed. What I want…what we could have, it’s gotta be more than that.”

Oberon nods slowly, understanding etched into the hard lines of his face. “You’re playing the long game, huh?”

“Something like that,” I admit, my lips twitching with a rueful smile. “Besides, someone’s gotta keep their head while everyone else is losing theirs to pheromones and pleasure.”

“Fair enough.” He claps me on the shoulder, a gesture heavy with camaraderie and respect. “Just remember, she’ll still want you after. And we’ll need you clear-headed then too.”

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