8. Gunnar
This is a waste of time.
We’ve been in Oasis for two weeks, and I have nothing to show for it. I went to Nero after getting back from our raid on the Terra Vitae lab—when Aisling let me down, when she broke my fucking heart—and ever since then, he’s been hauling me around like an accessory.
And I’m getting real fucking sick of it.
The clink of chips and the rustle of cards fill the air as I toss my hand down, a smirk playing on Nero’s lips. “You’re just not in it tonight, are you, Gunnar?” he says, glancing over at the gorgeous beta females fluttering around like moths drawn to his flame.
I brush off the discomfort hugging my shoulders, trapped in a suit that wasn’t tailored for a frame like mine. “Not everyone’s cut out for this peacock show,” I grumble, eyeing his easy charm with a mix of irritation and envy.
“Come on,” he laughs, leaning back in his chair and sweeping his gaze across the bevy of betas. “Why don’t you let one of them brighten up your evening?”
A growl rumbles in my chest, more warning than words. The girls pick up on it fast, their smiles fading as they scatter away from me like sparrows startled into flight.
“Brother, you need to unwind.” Nero shakes his head, disappointment lacing his voice. “This is Oasis. You can’t tell me there’s nothing here that tempts you.”
“Trust me, nothing tempts me less than these games.” I push back from the table, the last game’s winnings forgotten. “When do we cut through the crap and get to Pacific City?”
He flicks his wrist, dismissing my impatience like ashes from a cigar. “You really think I dragged you all the way to Oasis for fun? Gunnar, relax, we’ll talk shop. But there’s no harm in enjoying the scenery.”
I lean forward, elbows on the table, my patience threadbare. “The only view I’m interested in is one where Vance Solace isn’t breathing down our necks anymore.”
“Ah, but your heart’s still tangled up with that omega, isn’t it?” Nero’s eyebrow arches, sharp as a blade. “I hear things, Gunnar. You were fuming when you came looking for me after New Eden.”
“Whatever issues I have with Aisling, they’re mine to sort,” I snap. “First, I have to settle the score with Vance.”
“Keep your voice down,” he hisses, a quick glance over his shoulder. “Walls have ears, especially in Oasis. Vance could have eyes and ears anywhere.”
“Fine,” I concede, voice dropping to a whisper. “But we’re not dancing around this all night. I want a plan, Nero. I want it now.”
A tap on my shoulder jolts me, and I whip around to find a waitress with a practiced smile. “Miss Toure will see you now.”
Nero’s grin is all teeth, self-satisfied as ever. “Told you I was working on it.”
We rise in unison, leaving the clatter of chips and murmurs of gamblers behind. Nero leads, swaggering like he owns the damn place. I follow, keeping my posture rigid, every step calculated.
“Watch your six,” I murmur, my gaze sweeping over the sea of faces. You don’t survive in our line of work without a healthy dose of paranoia.
“We’re fine, Gunnar,” he shoots back, but his attention’s already snagged by a passing waitress bearing a tray of colorful drinks. “No one will hurt us here; Inari Toure is a friend.”
The casino’s a hive of decadence, each drone buzzing about their business. Some things never change, no matter the city. We navigate through the throngs, headed for a golden elevator that shines like a beacon. It’s guarded by two alphas built like tanks, assault rifles cradled in their arms. Their eyes are sharp, scanning everyone who approaches.
“Is that why she sent guys with guns to watch you?” I ask, tipping my chin toward the guards as we close the distance.
“Ha ha,” Nero replies. He flashes a card at them, and we’re granted passage without a word.
Inside the elevator, it’s just us and the hum of machinery. The ascent is smooth, silent. Tension coils in my gut.
I’ve been in enough meetings to know they can go south real quick.
“Ready to charm the queen of Oasis?” Nero asks, breaking the quiet.
“Charm isn’t exactly my style,” I grunt.
“Maybe not, but keep the growling to a minimum, huh?”
“Depends on what she has to say.”
The doors part, revealing an office that’s more museum than workspace, relics of a world long gone displayed like trophies. There are pieces of art bedecking the walls—old world shit, from before the Mutation. My boots sink into plush carpet as we step into history reborn, or maybe just preserved.
Hell, it’s hard to tell these days.
The office swallows us whole, gilt and grandeur that’s borderline obscene. Nero’s got a half-smirk on his face like he’s in on a joke I’m too pissed to laugh at. Me? I’m all tight shoulders and clenched fists, feeling like a bull in a china shop with these relics around me.
We take a few more steps forward, and there she sits: Inari Toure, framed by the city lights spilling through her floor-to-ceiling windows. She’s the eye of a hurricane, calm and deadly; power isn’t just something she has—it’s something she is. Her silver dress clings and glitters with every subtle movement, making the shadows dance at her command. Makeup flawless, not a smear or smudge—like war paint for the modern queen she is, violet eyeshadow on dark brown skin.
And there’s a presence beside her, silent as a ghost—a single female omega bodyguard, head shaved, a living statement that screams defiance louder than words ever could.
“Ah, here they are,” Inari rises to her feet, the fluid grace of her movements a stark reminder of the control she wields over everything, including herself. “Nero, always a pleasure.” Her hand extends towards him first, a slender bridge between empires.
“Always, Inari,” Nero responds, taking her hand with practiced ease. He bends to brush a kiss to her knuckles, his eyes locked on hers. I wonder if they’ve ever…no, scratch that.
I don’t get the impression she would let this dirty alpha anywhere near her, despite his charms.
Then it’s my turn. I step forward, grip firm, no bullshit. Her hand is cool and soft in mine, but the strength in her fingers tells a story all its own.
“Gunnar Finch, I presume?” Her lips curve into a knowing smile, revealing nothing and everything all at once. “Or is it Solace now?”
“Still Finch…and I intend on keeping it that way,” I mutter, a little caught off guard. “Didn’t realize I was making noise loud enough to hit your ears.”
“Word travels fast when it wants to,” she says, releasing my hand. Her gaze holds mine, steady, unflinching. “Especially about the prodigal sons of Pacific City.”
“Prodigal might be stretchin’ it,” I counter, trying to keep the edge out of my tone.
“Modesty doesn’t suit you, Gunnar,” Inari chides gently, her eyes glinting with mirth. “I’ve had my ear to the ground. You’ve been stirring up more than just dust and trouble back home.”
“Trouble’s got a way of finding me,” I quip, but it’s half-hearted. The fact is, she’s not wrong. If my presence here in Oasis wasn’t proof enough.
“Speaking of trouble,” she segues with a smirk. “You have an acquaintance in common with me. Rook Rainier?”
“Rook?” The name knocks around inside my skull like a bullet ricocheting off walls—a reminder that he took in Aisling after I spurned her, that he sided with Luka when I told him what happened. Just another person who threw me to the damn wolves, but I don’t want her to know that. “He used to run with my crew.”
“Used to work for me as well,” Inari adds, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, as though trying to read my reaction. “This world, it’s smaller than we think.”
“Seems that way,” I mutter, pushing thoughts of Rook aside for now.
Last thing I need is old ghosts resurfacing at a time like this.
“Let’s sit.” She gestures toward the plush chairs opposite her desk, moving to reclaim her own seat. The bodyguard shifts subtly, a silent sentinel as we take our places.
“Thanks for the audience, Inari,” Nero interjects, easing into his chair with a casualness that belies the tension I can see coiling beneath his surface. He’s playing it cool, but even he knows we’re treading on razor wire here.
“Business before pleasure, gentlemen,” Inari replies, her voice smooth as silk but with a hint of iron underneath. “Now, let’s talk about how we can help each other.”
“Leadership in Pacific City is a mess,” Nero says, cutting straight to it. “Caius, my brother, he’s turning Echo Beach into a graveyard. Bad for morale, worse for business.”
I chime in, “Vance is no better. The guy’s gone ghost since Aisling got snatched by Eclipse. He’s not running the Angels; he’s hiding from them.”
Inari leans back, her fingers drumming on the desk, silver rings catching the light. “Pacific City’s downfall isn’t news to me. But boys, I’ve got bigger fish frying as we speak.”
“Such as?” I ask, leaning forward, elbows on my knees.
“Oasis has its own poison seeping through the streets,” she says, her eyes hard as flint. “Eros. It’s everywhere and it’s rotting us from the inside out.”
“I was part of the crew that took down Terra Vitae,” I tell Inari. “Eros should’ve died with them.”
Inari’s eyes, sharp and calculating, don’t waver from mine. The room feels charged, like a storm’s brewing in the space between us. “There’s a new strain,” she says, her tone even. “It’s flooding Oasis, and Rook’s on it. But he needs backup.”
“You hired an Angel to do your snooping for you?” Nero’s brow quirks up, curiosity piqued.
“Like I said, he’s an old employee of mine,” Inari explains, brushing an invisible speck off her silver dress. “Sharp instincts. He’s got leads but lacks resources.”
“Resources we’ve got,” Nero chimes in, leaning back in his chair with that cocky tilt to his grin. “Gunnar and I can bring muscle, intel…whatever it takes.”
“Good.” Inari rises from behind her desk, the silver fabric of her dress whispering against her skin. She moves with the grace of a queen, powerful despite—or maybe because—she’s an omega. “I expect you to get in touch with him. Use what you’ve got to nail this down.”
“Consider it done,” I say, standing to meet her eye to eye. “You give us your word, we’ll handle the rest.”
“Word given,” she replies, extending her hand. Her grip is firm, not a hint of hesitation.
“Then we’re in business,” I respond, shaking her hand, sealing the deal with a clasp as solid as our resolve.
Nero stands, and we both know we’re walking out of here with more than we came for. A promise from Inari Toure isn’t something you take lightly—and a mission from her? That’s a call to war.