14. Aisling
I blink awake, the taste of stale midnight gaming on my tongue. My head’s heavy on Rook’s shoulder, his breathing deep and even. Dawn’s light hasn’t got the memo to be gentle; it barges in through the windows, no apologies given.
“Ugh,” I groan and sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The digital clock on the wall confirms it’s an ungodly hour to be conscious. Our hands abandoned the controllers at some point, now lying lifeless in our laps like dropped guns after a duel.
“Morning, sunshine.” Oberon’s voice comes from the kitchen, laced with that permanent smirk of his. He clinks around, probably fixing something that smells a hell of a lot better than my mouth feels right now.
“Is it?” I mutter, pushing myself off the couch.
Rook stirs next to me, a low rumble in his chest as he shifts into a more comfortable sprawl. I leave him to his slumber, padding across the room toward the promise of caffeine.
“Thought you’d never wake up,” Oberon quips, sliding a mug across the counter toward me. It’s black coffee, no pretense—just how I need it.
“Feels like we got our asses kicked by more than just a game,” I say, taking a tentative sip. The coffee burns all the way down, jolting me further awake.
“That’s what happen when you stay up all night,” he teases, but there’s no bite in it.
Just the usual banter that keeps our little world spinning.
“Try reminding me next time I’m awake and wide-eyed at four in the morning,” I add before taking another gulp of the bitter brew.
The day’s just begun, and already it tastes like a shot of reality straight to the heart. The world outside hasn’t even had the decency to turn up the brightness yet. Inside, it’s just me, Oberon with his bed-head hair, and the sound of our morning rituals filling the kitchen.
“Sleep okay?” Oberon asks, sliding another mug my way across the marble countertop. “You know…once you put the game down.”
“Better than okay,” I confide, resting back against the cool stone.
“Yeah?” He’s all casual interest, but I catch that quicksilver flash in his eyes.
“Rook and I kissed.” It comes out plain, like I’m talking about the weather or what’s for breakfast.
“Knew it.” Oberon’s eyebrows do this little dance towards his hairline, but his face is all smug satisfaction.
“Did you now?” I challenge, quirking an eyebrow of my own.
“Please. Sparks flying around you two? It was only a matter of when, not if.” His smirk grows as he sips his coffee, watching me over the rim of his cup.
A shrill tone cuts through the banter, jarring against the hum of the refrigerator and the soft clink of our mugs. The panel by the door lights up like a Christmas tree. My feet carry me across the room, curiosity edged with a razor-sharp wariness.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, fingers tapping the screen to pull up the cameras. “What now?”
Rook, hearing the alert, uncoils from the couch, clumsy with sleep. He pads over, bare feet silent on the cold tile, and looms behind me, his scent wrapping around me—earthy and familiar. I lean back just enough to feel the solid wall of his chest without making it a thing.
“Who the hell—“
My question dies on my lips, jaw going slack as the grainy image comes into focus. One figure stands out in the front seat of the first car, clear as day even through the lens of high-tech security—no mistaking him.
“Vance,” I breathe, a name that carries weight, a tremor of something I can’t quite name. Excitement? Dread? Both?
“Looks like it,” Rook confirms, voice steady as he takes in the scene playing out on the monitor. There’s a pause, heavy with unspoken words. “But why?”
“Good question,” I reply, though I know neither of us has the answer. Not yet. But Vance showing up unannounced, when we were about to go to Oasis without his knowledge…
“Guess we’re about to find out,” Oberon says, and there’s an edge to his voice.
Yeah…this isn’t good, that’s for sure.
“Jesus, that’s Vance alright,” Rook mutters as the figures on the camera become clearer. Vance is riding shotgun in the first car, silver-streaked hair catching the first light, eyes hidden behind dark shades even though the sun’s barely up. It’s a power move; it always is with him.
“Should we be freaking out right now?” Oberon’s voice cuts in, tense but controlled as he eyes the procession on the screen.
“Vance doesn’t do drive-bys,” Rook says, and there’s a hint of something like respect or maybe just understanding in his voice. “At least, not without calling ahead.” He’s already moving, fingers dancing over the security panel with a practiced ease that turns off the turrets before the tires crunch to a stop outside.
“Then what’s he doing here?” Oberon asks, and I wish I had an answer for him. I don’t miss the way his body angles slightly toward me, protective instincts flaring even though we’re not sure if there’s anything to protect against yet.
“Guess he’s about to tell us.” Rook’s gaze stays fixed on the monitor, watching Vance’s every move like it might give us some clue as to what the hell is going on. But Vance is as readable as a brick wall.
“Could be nothing,” I offer, trying to sound like I believe it.
“Or it could be everything,” Rook counters with a shrug that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The game is changing, the players making moves we didn’t see coming.
I guess it’s past time we started expecting the unexpected.
The morning sun is a traitor, all warm and comforting against my skin while tension coils in my stomach. We step out the front door just as the engines cut off, four black SUVs settling into an uneasy stillness that’s got nothing to do with peace. Vance is the first to emerge, stepping out of the lead vehicle like he owns the place—followed on the other side of the car by Luka, who takes me by surprise. I gaze at him for just a moment before looking at Vance again, my heart pounding.
“Vance,” Rook’s voice is level, almost casual if you don’t know him. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“Word on the street is, you’re planning a getaway,” Vance says, his bright blue eyes scanning our little trio like we’re a puzzle he’s already solved.
“Word travels fast,” Rook quips. “Did Luka spill the beans?”
Luka shakes his head. “I’m as surprised as you are.”
“Then how—“ Rook starts but then stops himself, eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve been watching us.”
“Wouldn’t be much of an Archangel if I didn’t keep tabs on my men,” he says, stepping forward with that regal kind of swagger that comes from knowing you’re the apex predator in any given room. “Are we going to stand out here all day, or are you going to invite me in?”
“House is open to you, as always,” Rook answers, and steps back, swinging his arm in a wide, dramatic arc of welcome.
Somehow, it doesn’t seem welcoming at all.
We all start to move inside, and Oberon’s hand brushes against my lower back, a silent promise he’s not going anywhere. I draw in a quick breath, feeling the weight of his solidarity. Vance circles to my other side, and damn it all if he doesn’t make the air feel charged just by breathing.
His knuckles graze mine, intentional and electrifying. “How have you been, Stargazer?” he asks, those blue eyes of his drilling into mine.
“Fine,” I tell him, because what else can I say? That the chaos of our lives has been a storm I’m somehow at the center of? No, I keep it short, keep it simple. “Just… a lot happening.”
“Chaos seems to be a recurring theme with us.” He gives me this half-smile, like he knows exactly how deep the currents run beneath my cool exterior.
“Seems so,” I agree, my voice steady despite the tremors his touch sends skittering up my arm. “But I think I’m more worried about the whirlwind I’ve whipped up for everyone else.”
“Chaos isn’t a pit,” Vance murmurs, echoing closer than I expect, the scent of his cologne a mix of danger and something disarmingly warm. “It’s a ladder. And we climb it together.”
“Or fall trying,” I shoot back, unable to stop the corner of my mouth from twitching upward. It’s not a grin, not quite, but it’s more than he usually gets from me.
“Exactly.” His voice is a low rumble, confident as sin. “Good thing angels have wings, huh?”
The morning sun cuts through the blinds, throwing slats of light across the room. Rook’s in his element, playing host while he offers up cups of black liquid salvation. “Coffee, anyone?”
“You’re welcome,” Oberon mutters.
Luka leans against the doorframe, arms folded, nodding his acceptance. Vance takes a cup too, his movements all casual dominance. “So, this means we’re all heading to Oasis?” Rook asks, his voice deceptively light.
“Of course we are,” Vance answers without missing a beat, his blue eyes flicking over to me for just a heartbeat longer than necessary. “Gunnar’s been busy in my absence, moving his pieces into place.”
“Doesn’t sound like your style to let someone else set up the board,” I prod, trying to gauge how deep the trouble runs.
“Sometimes you let the opponent think they’ve got the upper hand.” The way Vance watches me, it’s like he’s laying out a challenge. “But it’s time I had a little chat with Inari Toure, sweet-talked her into seeing things my way.”
“And Nero Rossi?” I lean back against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest. “What’s your play there?”
Vance sets his cup down, his stare boring into me. “Nero thinks he’s a wildcard,” he starts, “but wildcards still fit in the deck. It’s high time he learned where he ranks.”
I peel my gaze from Vance’s determined stare and glance at the clock above the kitchen sink. Morning’s barely got its boots on, and yet here we are, plotting a course through a minefield of alphas with egos too big for the city.
“Okay, when do we roll out?” I ask, sliding off the counter, where I’ve been perched like some bird of prey nursing a coffee instead of a kill.
“Pack your bags,” Vance says, his voice a low rumble that feels like it vibrates through the floorboards. “We’re ready to move out now.”
“Give me ten minutes.” I push away from the counter, already mentally sifting through what I’ll need. My fingers twitch, itching for the comfort of a blade or a gun tucked within easy reach.
It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you.
“Make it five,” Vance counters, but his eyes are smiling even as he pushes us toward urgency.
“Five? You want me to go commando?” I quip, meeting his challenge head-on.
There’s a sparkle in his bright blue eyes that tells me he wouldn’t mind the thought.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Oberon chimes in from where he leans against the doorframe. A grin plays at his lips, knowing full well the double entendre will ruffle feathers—or in this case, ruffle my hair as he reaches past to tousle it.
“Keep dreaming, pretty boy,” I swat his hand away, but it’s a half-hearted attempt because the truth is, these two can unravel me faster than a kitten with a ball of yarn.
“Six minutes then,” Vance amends, magnanimous as ever. “For modesty’s sake.”
“Generous.” I can’t help but smirk back at him, feeling the heat in my cheeks that has nothing to do with the coffee. Turning on my heel, I stride toward my room, throwing over my shoulder, “Better not start without me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Stargazer,” Vance calls after me, his voice trailing like a promise or a warning—sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference with him. Luka’s silent, hanging back, but I catch the tail end of a look shared between him and Rook. It’s heavy with unspoken words, and I don’t need to hear them to know we’re stepping into the lion’s den.
“Six minutes,” I mutter to myself, already yanking open drawers and grabbing essentials. We might be heading into chaos, but I’ll be damned if I let it catch me off guard.