Page 46 of Sacrifice

“Surprise,” Nero tosses over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. That word coming from him could mean anything from an impromptu party to a cage fight.

“Surprise” doesn’t sit well with me. Not here in this world where every corner hides a potential threat. Gunnar, solid and sure, is on my right, his hand a comforting weight on my arm. Rook flanks my left, mirroring Gunnar’s protective stance.

Nero’s idea of fun often spells trouble.

I don’t want to get mixed up in that.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask Gunnar, barely able to keep the skepticism out of my voice. “I mean, it’s not like Nero’s planning to off us, right?”

Gunnar’s brow furrows slightly as he sizes up Nero’s back. “He wouldn’t,” he starts, but there’s a hitch in his voice that doesn’t quite sell it. “At least, I don’t think so.”

“Comforting,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. But despite the sarcasm, my pulse races, half with annoyance, half with something dangerously close to excitement. It’s been a long time since anything felt certain in this mess we call life.

“Come on, Aisling,” Rook chimes in, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me, “when has life with the pack ever been boring?”

“Never wanted boring,” I shoot back, “just a heads-up would’ve been nice.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Nero calls out without turning around, and there’s laughter in his voice.

“Right,” I say, tightening my grip on Gunnar and Rook. “Because stumbling into the unknown is a real riot.”

“Exactly,” Nero throws back, and his confident stride never falters. Whatever his surprise, Nero seems convinced it will change everything.

And that’s what scares me the most.

The neon glow of the Oasis Strip splashes across our faces, painting us in strokes of wild color. The air hums with a techno beat that pulses from the open doors of clubs and the chatter of revellers dressed in their night’s best. It’s hard not to get swept up in the vibe of it all, but my gut tells me we’re not here for dancing.

“Are you sure he said ‘dress nice’ and not ‘bring a weapon’?” I quip, trying to ignore the knot forming in my stomach.

“Pretty sure,” Gunnar replies dryly, his arm tense under my grasp. “Though with Nero, one never quite knows.”

We round a corner, and suddenly the street widens into a plaza aglow with the kind of glitz that can only mean one thing: we’re stepping onto the set of some grand production.

And there, shining like a beacon of matrimonial hope, is a chapel—its big, glitzy white sign proclaiming “CHAPEL OF THE STARS” in bold, sparkling letters.

I halt so abruptly that Rook nearly barrels into me from behind. “No way,” I breathe out, feeling like I’ve been sucker-punched by fate. “He wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t what?” Gunnar follows my gaze and blanches. “Oh.”

“Is this some weird alpha power play?” I demand, my voice rising an octave as I pivot to face them both. “Because if so, count me out.”

Gunnar, still staring at the chapel, seems lost in thought. “Nero, are you—”

But before he can finish, Nero cuts him off. “No need to spoil the surprise, Gunnar. All will be revealed.” There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that I don’t trust one bit.

“I’m not marrying you in a fucking Oasis chapel, Nero,” I snap, starting to turn around.

But Rook catches me by the arm, his eyes flitting over to Gunnar.

“Aisling—you’re not marrying Nero,“ he says. “You’re marrying Gunnar. Now come on…we’ve got a reservation.”

He saunters away, leaving me staring at the chapel alongside Gunnar. It isn’t like I haven’t thought of it—being Aisling Finch, getting rid of the name of my horrible father…

…but tonight?

The others waltz ahead, their laughter and chatter fading into the chapel’s welcoming embrace. I glance over at Gunnar, who stands frozen, mouth agape, clearly blindsided by the evening’s turn.

“Are you okay with this?” I prod gently, a knot of concern tightening in my chest.

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