Page 12 of Sacrifice

“Shh,” I cut him off with a raised hand. “Save it. We’ll sort this mess out.” I don’t want to hear the words that might follow, the kind of raw honesty that could make this whole thing even messier.

“Rook, am I alone in this?” His voice cracks, the power of his alpha presence diminished to something fragile and human. Bright blue eyes that once commanded armies now plead for an anchor.

“Vance,” I say, my throat tight with the weight of the lie I’m about to tell, “you’re not alone. You’ve got me.”

I see the relief flood his features, a momentary balm on the festering wound of paranoia. He nods, grasping onto my words like a lifeline, and it twists something inside me. It shouldn’t be this way—but it is.

“Look, I’ve got to head out,” I say, standing abruptly. The chair screeches against the worn floorboards, echoing too loudly in the tense silence.

“Right.” Vance’s shoulders slump as he picks up his whiskey glass, swirling the amber liquid. “Thanks, Rook.”

“Anytime,” I reply, though the word tastes like ash on my tongue.

I step out of the booth, leaving him there with his demons and his drink. My heart kicks against my chest, a traitorous rhythm. I’m helping him, I tell myself over and over. Vance is playing a dangerous game, spinning webs that could tangle us all. If I don’t do this, if I don’t keep my facade intact, it’ll be more than just his life on the line. He’s already put all of us at risk…and we’re going to stop him without killing him.

We have to.

The clink of glass on wood follows me out of the private room, a solitary toast to the lies between us. Luna gives me a knowing glance as I pass the bar, but I don’t have the time or the patience for her silent questions.

Outside, the night air slaps me with its chill, a reminder that even in the dark underbelly of Pacific City, consequences are as cold and relentless as the ocean’s depths. I walk away from the Moonshine Lounge, shoulders hunched, carrying the heavy burden of betrayal cloaked as loyalty.

Because sometimes, to save a friend, you have to play the villain in their story—even if it means sacrificing a piece of your own soul.

Chapter six

Aisling

I blink awake to the symphony of dawn—soft snores and the warmth from the bodies entwined with mine. Gunnar’s chest is my pillow; his arm slung over me like a protective shield. To my right, Luka’s breath fans against my neck, while Oberon’s head lays heavy on my hip. The safety of their presence is a balm to the chaos that has become my life.

It’s rare, moments like these—where we’re just us, no titles, no schemes, nothing but the raw pull that binds us. I let myself soak in it, wishing time could stand still, at least until the next disaster strikes.

But as if on cue, my phone chimes, a shard of reality piercing through the bubble. It’s resting on the nightstand, just out of reach. Leaning over Gunnar, I snag it, his muscles tensing under my touch as he surfaces from sleep.

“Morning,” he murmurs, voice husky.

“Hey,” I murmur back, thumb swiping across the screen. My heart sinks as I read the text—Inari, summoning me for breakfast with her and Isla.

“Something up?” Gunnar’s gaze is sharp now, the lazy intimacy of our waking moment evaporating.

“Breakfast invite from Inari,” I say, keeping my voice neutral. “Looks like I’m wanted at court.”

“Ah.” He stretches, the movement jostling both Luka and Oberon. They stir, disoriented grunts mingling with the rustle of sheets.

I can’t help but groan. Inari’s breakfasts are never just breakfasts, and with everything so precarious, this could tilt the scales in a direction I’m not ready for. But there’s no refusing an invitation from the omega crimelord of Oasis—not when you’re trying to survive in a world that’s always one wrong move away from catastrophe.

Luka’s nose finds the crook of my neck, breathing in deeply, his scent a mix of sleep and something wild. “Stay,” he mumbles against my skin, the word more plea than command.

Gunnar’s hand lands gently on my shoulder, a grounding touch. “You should go,” he says, firm yet not unkind. The underlying tension tells me he’s already thinking ahead, calculating our next move in this perilous game we’re caught in. “We need to start moving if we’re going to make a play.”

The words slice through the last threads of warmth from our tangled embrace. Reluctantly, I peel myself away from the comfort of my pack, feeling the loss of their heat immediately. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, feet finding the cold floor.

Behind me, Luka grunts softly, disappointment heavy in his voice as he rolls over, giving up the fight to keep me close. I can almost feel his eyes on me, but I don’t dare look back. If I do, I might just crawl back into the safety of his arms and forget the world that waits outside these walls.

Gunnar rises with me, his movements decisive, a silent signal that the time for rest is over. We shuffle into the bathroom, our bare feet padding against the cool tiles. The shower’s frosted glass beckons—a promise of wakefulness and a barrier from the world outside.

“Remember, Inari isn’t exactly known for her patience,” Gunnar reminds me as he turns the knobs, unleashing a cascade of water that fills the room with steam.

“I know,” I mutter, stepping into the shower beside him, “But I’m not keen on showing up sticky and covered in your cum—no offense.”

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