12. Rook
Evening’s creeping in when the soft thud of footsteps on the stairs breaks into my focus. I don’t need to look up from the chaos erupting onscreen to know it’s Aisling, with Oberon trailing behind her like some devoted shadow. The flicker of the TV paints ghostly light across the room, and with every rapid-fire press of the controller buttons, another bad guy bites the digital dust.
“Hey,” I call out, not tearing my eyes away from the screen as I maneuver around virtual bullets. “Grab a bite before this gets cold.” I jerk my head back towards the kitchen counter—a mosaic of cartons offering up everything from greasy noodles to sushi rolls that glisten under the artificial glow.
“Looks like you’ve been holding down the fort,” Aisling says.
“Surviving more like,” I chuckle, blasting away the last enemy in sight. “Just keeping things interesting while I wait for the real action to start.”
The controller hits the table with a satisfying clack, signifying an end to virtual carnage. I lean back into the couch, watching Aisling fork a piece of sashimi like she’s contemplating its life choices before devouring it. Oberon’s busy nursing a carton of noodles, chopsticks a blur. Hunger pangs strike; I stalk over to the spread and snag myself another helping of spicy pork.
“Hope you’re hungry for more than takeout,” I say, my voice low as I slide back onto the leather next to them. “Inari Toure rang me up.”
Aisling’s gaze snaps to mine, sharp and calculating. I didn’t even know she was aware who Inari was—but I remind myself she knows more than I think, that she picked up all kinds of intel working at Dreamland. “And what does Oasis’ queenpin want with us?”
Her question is lined with the kind of intrigue that tells me she’s already spinning scenarios in her head…which basically affirms everything that Inari said about her. Aisling is a player, and she’s ready to get more involved in the game.
“Pack your bags,” I tell them, my tone serious, the atmosphere tight. “She’s summoning us to the the pleasure center of the west.”
“Oasis?” Oberon’s frown deepens, mirroring the crease in his forehead. It’s clear he’s chewing on more than just the noodles. “Doesn’t sound like a vacation.”
“Definitely not.” I pick at the food but my appetite’s taken a hit with the weight of Inari’s words still echoing in my skull. “Said it’s urgent.”
“Urgent how?” Aisling leans forward, predatory interest sharpening her features. She’s always had a nose for the critical, the decisive moments that define the game we’re all playing.
“New source of eros is leaking into her city, and she’s willing to provide manpower if I bring all my equipment and my nose for drugs,” I mutter. “So…off we go, like a dog on a leash.”
“Rook, hold up,” Oberon interjects, his tone serious enough to slap the sarcasm right off my tongue. “Ais is close to her heat. That trip could be a ticking bomb.”
“Damn.” I hadn’t factored in Aisling’s biology; the timing is a bitch and a half. But Inari’s call wasn’t a gentle nudge—it was a red alert. “Look, Oasis has facilities for that. They’re top-notch, probably the safest place for an omega to ride out her storm.”
“Facilities,” Oberon echoes, skepticism heavy as an anchor. “Like…”
“They’ve got those…” I shift back and forth on my feet, suddenly awkward. “Those heat spas, you know? With all the stuff for omegas to…you get it.”
Aisling blushes, Oberon snorts.
“Plus,” I lean in, ensuring my conviction doesn’t waver, “it’s urgent. You think I’d risk Ais’s hide if it weren’t?”
Oberon’s eyes narrow, gauging my sincerity, measuring the weight of my words. He knows me at this point—knows I’m not one to gamble with what’s ours unless I’ve got an ace up my sleeve.
“Alright,” he finally grunts, conceding the point. “But we play this smart. No risks with Ais.”
“Always,” I assure him, and from the look in Aisling’s eyes, she’s ready to face down whatever hellfire waits on the other side. “But I should tell you…”
I sputter out, going quiet. Aisling cocks an eyebrow.
“What, Rook?”
I drop the bombshell like a hot shell casing, “Gunnar’s in Oasis. He’s trying to sweet-talk Inari into backing him up to take Vance’s spot. And he’s not alone—Nero Rossi is throwing in with them.”
Aisling freezes, her fork mid-air, a piece of kung pao chicken forgotten. “Gunnar?” she repeats, her voice tight, the name loaded with a history that could write its own damned novel.
“Yep,” I say, watching closely as her grey eyes flash—a storm brewing in those depths. “The very same. Looks like he’s making his play, and he’s not playing by the usual rules.”
“Damn, Gunnar.” Oberon’s jaw clenches, his hand curling into a fist against the table. But Aisling? She’s already three steps ahead, her mind racing faster than my heartbeat after a street race gone sideways.
“Then we go. Now.” Her declaration slices through the tension, sharp and clear. No hesitation, no fear, just a burning need to confront the chaos head-on.
“And what are we going to do, exactly?” Oberon asks. “Seems like he’s put his mind to this suicidal task—“
“Which is why I have to talk to him,” she says, her gaze locking onto mine, steel-edged determination written all over her pale face. “I need to see him, talk some sense into him before he tears down everything we’ve built.”
“Sense?” I can’t help but bark a laugh. “From Gunnar? That’ll be the day.”
But Aisling doesn’t back down—never has. “He’ll listen to me. I’m still his mate…even if he wants to deny it.”
I blow out a breath. “I hope to god you’re right…but I’ll back you, Ais.”
“Thanks, Rook.” Her lips press together in a thin line, resolve shining like a blade. “Let’s do this.”
I flick the last of the takeout boxes closed, a greasy aftertaste clinging to the inside of my mouth. The clatter of plastic against wood slices through the heavy air, and I’m all too aware of the tension humming in the room like a live wire.
“Even if you can get Gunnar to sit down,” Oberon starts, his deep voice edging on cool despite the heat rising around us, “I doubt he’ll back off just because you ask nicely.”
His skepticism is a splash of cold water on Aisling’s fire, but she doesn’t shrink back. Instead, her eyes narrow, igniting with a spark that could light up the darkest corners of Pacific City.
“Maybe,” she concedes, the word almost slipping out as a growl. “But I’ve got to try.”
“Sure, you’re stubborn,” Oberon shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest, every inch the unmovable mountain. “But so’s Gunnar. And this…it’s more than just a rough patch. It’s a power play.”
Aisling glares at him. “You’re starting to sound an awful lot like a big bossy alpha now that Gunnar’s—“
“Speaking of plays,” I cut in before the air gets any thicker, “Inari wasn’t the only one who rang me up.” I lean back against the couch, letting the silence stretch just a beat too long. “She wanted me to pass the message to Vance, too.”
The sentence lands with the weight of an unspoken ultimatum, and I watch as Oberon’s face hardens, the lines around his mouth drawing tight. Aisling’s reaction, though, is a different kind of turmoil—a hurricane threatening to spill from her eyes.
“Vance,” she breathes out, the name like a curse or a prayer—I can’t tell which.
“Yup. Vance.” I let the name hang between us, a ghost we can’t shake. “Seems everyone wants a piece of the kingpin these days.”
Oberon’s hand goes to his beard, scratching at the wiry hair in a rare show of hesitation. “Telling Vance is playing with fire, Rook. You know how he gets—“
“Jealous? Possessive?” I offer, my lips quirking up despite the gravity of our little powwow. “All of the above?”
“Let’s not forget paranoid,” Aisling adds, her voice steady even if her hands aren’t. “He’s been off since Gunnar started sniffing around, and since…”
We all saw it—the way he held Aisling after the raid on New Eden, how he told Gunnar to get lost. He’s had a thing for her since she showed up, and it’s making him crazy.
“So we don’t tell Vance,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Thing is—we need some serious security if we’re crossing the Mojave, even on the highway, and I have limited resources.”
“Then we bring Luka,” Aisling says. She looks at Oberon, and he gives her a subtle nod, approving. I don’t know what they’ve been talking about, but it seems serious. “He’s one of the toughest people I’ve ever met, and the backup we need.”
“You think he’ll come?” I ask.
She nods. “I know he will.”
“Alright, so Luka’s our guy for the Mojave run,” I say, sliding my empty plate away.
“Agreed. He’s got the muscle and the know-how.” Oberon nods, his brow furrowed in thought as he picks at the remnants of his meal.
“Fine,” I concede, pushing back from the table and standing up. “Tomorrow, we hit the road early. I’ll call Luka tonight, prep him for the trip.”
“Good. We’ll need all the daylight we can get crossing that hellscape,” Oberon remarks, a hint of unease creeping into his otherwise steady voice.
“Then it’s settled.” I toss a glance toward the window, where the night sky is just a canvas of endless black dotted with the flicker of distant stars. “Oasis by nightfall, with or without Vance’s blessing.”
We spend the next hour mapping out routes and checkpoints, the conversation a low buzz of strategy and what-ifs. By the time we’re done, my head’s swimming with plans and contingencies, but there’s a thread of anticipation too, coiling tight in my gut.
“Let’s pack it in. Big day tomorrow,” Oberon says, rising to his feet and stretching out the kinks in his back.
“Night, Oberon,” Aisling murmurs, already halfway to her feet, her mind clearly miles ahead on the dusty roads we’ll soon traverse. “I’m gonna stay up for a bit…don’t think I can sleep.”
“Night,” I echo, watching Oberon disappear down the hall before turning to Aisling. “You ready for this?”
“Born ready,” she responds with a smirk that promises trouble of the best kind. And I can’t help but think, bring it on.
I go to tidy up the dishes, a familiar anxiety coiling in my gut at the prospect of a dangerous journey tomorrow. Aisling comes to stand at the sink beside me and help, and we fall into a comfortable silence as we do the dishes.
The last plate clinks against the sink, and I flick off the lights in the kitchen. “Hey, Ais,” I say, thumbing over my shoulder at the console still warm from earlier. “Up for some virtual carnage before hitting the sack?”
“Alright then, Rook,” Aisling grins. “Show me what you’ve got.”