Page 64 of Sacrifice

Beside her stands Gunnar, sleeves rolled up like he’s ready to get down to business even in the midst of this opulence. He spots me approaching and a knowing smirk curls his lip—one that says ‘Let’s give them a show they won’t forget.’

“Nero,” Gunnar greets me, reaching out to grasp my hand in a firm shake before pulling me in for a brief, solid shoulder bump—a sign of equal footing that isn’t lost on the onlookers.

“Looking sharp, Gunnar,” I reply, releasing his grip only to turn my attention to Aisling. Without hesitation, I scoop her into my arms, one hand at her waist, the other gently cradling the back of her head. And then I kiss her—deeply, passionately, a claiming that sends a clear message to every watching pair of eyes: She is mine, and I am hers.

This pack…we belong to each other.

The crowd erupts with surprise, their murmurs a blend of shock and awe, the kind of reaction that feeds the ego and stokes the fire in my veins. I can feel their eyes on us, burning with curiosity, envy, and desire. It’s intoxicating, the power we wield together in this moment.

“Always making an entrance, aren’t you?” Aisling teases breathlessly as I finally release her lips, her cheeks flushed with excitement or the thrill of our public defiance—I’m not sure which.

“Wouldn’t dream of anything less,” I respond with a cheeky wink. Through the sea of faces, I catch Vance’s steely gaze locked onto us. A silent challenge passes between us, one that says this dance is far from over.

But tonight, Aisling is in my arms, and the rest of the world can go hang.

I let her go and lean toward Gunnar, eyes darting around. “So, how’s everything holding up on your end?”

Gunnar catches my gaze and nods toward Aisling with a pride that’s hard to miss. “She’s blossoming, Nero,” he says, his voice tinged with awe. “Got a knack for PR that I didn’t see coming. It’s like all the pieces are starting to fit.”

“Is that so?” I muse, glancing at Aisling who is now engaged in conversation with Kendra Morrison—a revolutionary figure from Solstice Bay. The way Aisling holds herself, the confidence that radiates from her posture, it’s clear she’s more than just a pretty face in a crowd of alphas—she’s a force in her own right.

The clink of silverware against glass cuts through the hum of voices, and we all turn as one toward the sound. Inari stands on a stage, commanding the room with an easy grace that belies the power she wields. Her smile is warm, but her eyes are sharp, missing nothing.

“Welcome, dear guests,” Inari begins, her voice carrying over the crowd. Her presence pulls everyone into rapt attention, the undercurrent of authority in her tone undeniable. She’s a crimelord, sure, but tonight she’s also the hostess, the center of a world both dangerous and dazzling. And we’re all just living in it—at least for this evening.

“I wanted to say a few words,” Inari says. “Because this…it’s a new kind of pack, a new stage in our recover from the Great Mutation.”

Voices murmur across the room, speculation on what she’s about to tell us. I catch sight of a few of Isla Connolly’s Bluestockings around the room—guns at their hips, eyes sharp.

“Tonight, we stand in a world that has been irrevocably changed by the Mutation,” Inari continues, her gaze sweeping across the audience like a beacon. “A world where omegas are no longer content to be silent, to be powerless. I have committed myself to elevating our kind, to ensuring that omegas take their rightful places in the seats of power.”

She pauses, and I can feel the weight of her words settle over the crowd. There’s something electric about hearing that kind of talk—revolutionary, even—and I can’t help but admire her for it.

“And it’s with immense pride that I support the union of Gunnar and Aisling.” Her eyes find theirs in the crowd, and a ripple of excitement passes through the room. “Their marriage symbolizes more than just a joining of two strong individuals—it’s a beacon of the future we are building. And with Nero Rossi now joining their pack, the possibilities are endless.”

The murmurs around me are a mix of intrigue and admiration; they know as well as I do that this alliance could change the game. That’s exactly why I’m here—why I’m risking everything to be part of it.

“Please, stand and join me in celebrating this momentous occasion,” Inari says, lifting her glass high.

The room rises to its feet, and all eyes suddenly fix on us. Gunnar’s hand finds mine—solid, reassuring—and then there’s Aisling, looking up at me, her eyes shining with something fierce and tender. And damn it if that doesn’t hit me harder than any punch I’ve ever taken.

Is that love?

The thought slams into me with the force of a freight train, leaving my heart hammering against my ribs. I’ve never been one for soft emotions, but the way she’s looking at me now—like I’m someone worth standing next to—I can feel something crack open inside me.

“Hey,” I say, my voice barely audible over the swell of music and conversation.

“Hey yourself,” she replies, the corner of her mouth quirking up in a smile that makes my head spin.

I glance at Gunnar, seeing my own turmoil reflected back at me. He nods slightly, the unspoken acknowledgment between us clear: whatever this is, it’s real, and we’re in it together.

But then, there’s a sudden sharp pain in my chest—an ache that doesn’t belong. My ears are ringing, the world tilting on its axis. For a moment, I think it’s just the shock of what I’m feeling for Aisling, the chaos of emotions that are alien to me.

“Nero?” Aisling’s voice cuts through the haze, and she’s…

…that’s panic.

I open my mouth to reply, but no words come out. Instead, I look down and see a bloom of red spreading across the fabric of my shirt. Confusion grips me as surely as the hands of death itself.

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