Page 61 of Sacrifice

“Love you too, Aisling,” he finally says, his voice barely audible above the distant sounds of celebration from our pack. In his embrace, surrounded by warmth and the scent of him, I can almost believe that our dream might one day become reality.

Chapter twenty-six

Rook

The days between the wedding and Inari’s lavish dinner are as tense as it gets.

The Bellanova thrums with an energy that makes my skin prickle—the kind of electric charge that fills the air before a storm. Around me, the pack hustles to get everything in place for Inari’s party. It’s morphed from a simple engagement announcement into something sprawling and opulent—a wedding reception for Gunnar and Aisling. And as if that isn’t enough fuel for the fire, there’s also the little bombshell about the Eclipse and Angels cozying up, all courtesy of Nero’s string-pulling.

I sit at the bar and watch the chaos, taking it all in. The chatter, the clink of glasses, the rustle of silk—it’s a symphony of anticipation. This shindig is going to be one for the history books. Aisling’s marrying Vance’s brother. That thought alone has my heart in my throat. Vance Solace—ruler of his criminal empire—is about to get a rude awakening.

He’s not going to be happy about all this.

“Look at this turnout,” someone mutters next to me, and I nod without looking. Doesn’t matter who it is; we’re all thinking the same thing.

Celebs and politicians rub elbows with the underworld elite like it’s some twisted family reunion. Senator Sloane Ashford saunters in with her Secret Service entourage from Solstice Bay, their steps synced like they’re stalking prey. Revolutionary royalty Kendra Morrison and Carson Connelly from the Enclave are here too, all sharp smiles and sharper suits. Heiress Emma Worthington from Sanctuary Summit glides through the crowd, whispering secrets that have ears perking up. And let’s not forget Jessabel Nox, the lounge singer bringing New Atlantis glitz to our Oasis glam.

They’re all drawn by Inari’s magnetic pull, that sly fox…and I can’t help but wonder if we’re all pawns in some bigger game.

“Bet Vance is throwing darts at a picture of Nero right now,” someone else chimes in, voice laced with glee.

Gunnar looks like he’s trying to keep his cool, but a vein throbs in his temple—a telltale sign if ever there was one. Aisling—bless her—is the eye of this hurricane. She stands with a grace that belies the chaos swirling around us, her grey eyes reflecting a calm I know she doesn’t feel.

This is getting dangerous fast—and we still have the Mojave lab to contend with.

But if the pieces fall as we plan…then by the end of the week, we’ll have an alliance between the Angels and the Eclipse, Vance out of the picture, and only Caius left to take out.

***

I’m threading my cufflinks in the pack suite bathroom before the big event, movements methodical, mind racing. The lab raid—our best chance at upending the Mojave stranglehold on omegas—is a shadow on tonight’s glitz. One wrong move and the whole thing could unravel.

I have to hope Aisling, Nero, and Gunnar know what they’re doing.

A knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts. It’s Oberon, filling the doorway like a monolith. I catch his eye, remembering the heat of his skin against mine—a moment born of adrenaline, now hanging between us like a question mark. We haven’t talked about it; there hasn’t been time.

“Nice tie,” I say, a deflective quip as I smooth down my shirt. He’s all black and gold, shoulders straining at the sleeves of his suit jacket. His beard is trimmed and his hair swept back, brown eyes reflecting the metallic tones of his tie.

“Thanks,” he grumbles, eyes scanning the room, not really seeing it. “You look like you’re about to face a firing squad.”

“Feels that way,” I admit, slipping into my jacket. “We’re playing with fire here, Oberon. If this backfires…”

“Then we deal with it.” His shoulders are a wall of certainty. “We always do.”

“Right.” I nod, catching myself before I echo those forbidden words—always do. “Just another Tuesday in Oasis.”

“It’s Friday…but I get your point.” He offers a grim smile. “Let’s get through this so we can focus on what matters.”

“Getting to the Mojave lab and taking out Malik,” I clarify.

“Among other things.”

There’s a weight to his gaze I can’t quite read. We’re comrades, bound by loyalty to pack and purpose. But there’s an undercurrent here, a complexity to this web we weave.

I open my mouth to ask if we’re okay—close it again.

That can wait.

“Ready for dinner?” Oberon’s voice pulls me back to the here and now.

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