20. Gunnar
The clink of ice against glass punctuates the murmur of the Bellanova bar as I swirl my drink, a cheap bourbon that burns just right. Nero’s on his fifth beer, and we’re deep in it now, hashing out our next move.
“Can’t trust Inari,” I grumble, feeling the weight of her name like a loaded dice in my mouth. “She’s all smoke and mirrors—could be leading us by the nose.”
Nero chuckles, a sound that scrapes like a matchstick. “Or she could be our royal flush. Girl’s got moves even the devil would envy.” He leans back, his black hair falling into his eyes, a casual look that’s deceptive. He’s always thinking, always plotting, like a spider waiting in the dark corners of its web.
“Either way, we need to play our hand carefully,” I say and take another swig, letting the liquid courage settle deep in my gut.
“Always do,” Nero replies with a sly grin, but it’s cut short. His brown eyes widen, fixed on something—or someone—over my shoulder.
I twist around, the stool groaning under me, and there they are: Vance, Luka, Oberon, and Rook striding into the bar like they own the goddamn place. Vance leads the pack, his greying hair catching the dim light, while those bright blue eyes scan the room. They stop when they land on me.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, my fingers tightening around the glass. The cool surface feels like the only thing keeping me from boiling over. This isn’t what we need—not now.
And I can’t fucking breathe when they’re right there…close enough to fucking strangle.
“Looks like we’ve got company,” I say, voice steady despite the fire kindling in my chest. My instincts scream at me to stand, to make myself bigger, but I force calm through every fiber of my being. It’s not easy when every cell in my body wants to react, to protect what’s mine.
“Stay put, Gunnar,” Nero murmurs, his tone low and steady. “Let them come to us. We’re not about to show weakness in our own territory. We came to Inari first…and they have to take our leftovers.”
I clench my jaw, the muscles working as I fight every instinct telling me to rise up and confront them head-on. But Nero’s right; this isn’t the time for a display of brute force. We need to be smarter than that. So I stay put, taking another pull from my drink, letting the ice clink against the glass—a small sound that doesn’t betray the storm raging inside me.
Of course, they can’t just let it lie, can they?
My gaze locks onto Luka as he moves through the crowd, Oberon looming at his side like some kind of dark sentinel. Rook and Vance find a table off to the side, but their attention is fixed on us, predatory and calculating. Vance, with his deep tan skin, looks like he’s itching for a confrontation, ready to bring down hell if the word is given. Rook is barely holding him back.
“Here we go,” I mutter, feeling Nero’s eyes on me, watching with that damned amusement still playing at the edges of his mouth. He’s enjoying this far too much.
Luka stops a few feet away, his presence like a physical weight. The bastard doesn’t deserve to stand on the same ground as me, not after what he did with Aisling—marking her while they were on that damn nd, like I didn’t even exist as the pack alpha. That thought alone makes my blood boil, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
“Keep it together, Gunnar,” Nero whispers, so quiet I can barely hear him over the din of the bar.
“Been looking for you,” Luka says flatly, no hint of a greeting in his voice. His jaw is set, eyes narrowed. “You had us all fucking worried.”
I scoff, tipping my glass to my lips and taking a long pull of the amber liquid. It burns just right going down. “Why don’t you buy a man a drink first, huh?” My tone is mocking, sharp enough to cut, and I can tell it hits home from the way his face tightens.
“Cut the crap, Gunnar,” Luka snaps back, his anger rising like heat waves off asphalt. “We’re still your friends, even if you don’t want it.”
Beside him, Oberon shifts, his expression less hostile than Luka’s but no less serious. “Me and Aisling have been worried too,” he intervenes with a slightly calmer, though still firm, tone. “You can’t just up and vanish on your pack.”
“Pack,” I spit out the word like it’s poison, my gaze never leaving Luka’s. “As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a pack.” My voice slashes through any pretense of camaraderie that might’ve lingered in the air. A collective tension seizes the group; a visceral, electric charge that threatens to spark violence at the slightest provocation.
Nero, sensing the escalating hostility, leans back casually in his seat, one arm draped over the back of his chair. His eyes, though, are sharp and calculating. “Ease up, boys,” he says smoothly, an edge of steel beneath his seemingly nonchalant demeanor. “Gunnar here is just a little prickly after a full day of negotiating with Inari Toure. Which leads me to my next question…why exactly are you lot gracing us with your presence? Don’t tell me you’re all here for the expensive drinks and mood lighting.”
Oberon’s jaw tightens, a muscle ticking in his cheek. He looks over his shoulder at Vance, seeking silent confirmation before returning his attention to us.
“Inari invited us,” he reveals. “Wanted to talk to Aisling.”
“I knew that bitch was double-crossing us,” I snap.
I can’t help it—the words are out of my mouth before I can rein them in. The volume of my voice cuts through the bar’s murmur like the crack of a whip, and suddenly, every eye in the Bellanova seems to turn our way. Bartender’s brow creases, a couple of bodyguards by the door shift their weight, hands inching toward concealed weapons.
“Keep your voice down, Gunnar,” Nero says under his breath, the corner of his lip twitching in annoyance—the only tell in an otherwise flawless smile. “It’s just business. And we’ve got an audience.”
“Business?” Luka snarls, leaning forward with a look that could curdle blood. “You’re being childish, Gunnar.” He’s close enough that I catch the scent of his frustration, a sharp tang beneath the usual alpha musk.
“Childish?” I fire back, my control fraying at the edges. “Heard that one already from Vance, thanks.”
Luka ignores the warning looks from Oberon, who’s trying to play peacemaker with a hand on his shoulder, urging him to drop it. But Luka’s too far gone, the confession bubbling up like acid. “Aisling didn’t want me to tell you, but—“
“Drop it, Luka,” Oberon growls, a hint of desperation in his tone.
”—they drugged us on New Eden!“ Luka blurts out, tormented eyes locked onto mine. “I marked her without her consent. We were both high on eros. I fucking…I assaulted her, Gunnar. She didn’t want me to because she was waiting for your approval.”
The revelation slams into me, a visceral blow that has my head spinning and heart raging. My fists clench at my sides, knuckles whitening as I fight the urge to leap across the table. Luka’s admission hangs heavy between us, a confession that threatens to shatter the tenuous hold I have on my rage.
“Waiting for my approval?” My voice cracks like a whip, and I can feel the beast within clawing its way to the surface. “You bastard.”
I don’t even feel myself move. It’s like watching someone else—a man possessed by fury itself—as I spring up and lunge across the table. My fist connects with Luka’s jaw with a satisfying thud, and he stumbles back, caught off guard. The force of my anger is a living thing, dark and relentless.
And I’m not fucking done.
I follow him backward, landing another punch in his gut. It feels good to hurt him—to watch as he coughs out a ragged groan, as he curses under his breath. He doesn’t even try to fight back, like he’s showing me I’m in charge.
Pack alpha…that’s what I am.
“Shit!” Nero curses as he grabs at my arms, trying to pull me back. Oberon is on his feet too, his own alpha strength fighting against mine as they both attempt to wrestle me away from Luka.
“Enough!” Vance roars, striding over with Rook close behind. There’s a wildness in his eyes that tells me this isn’t just about breaking up a fight—it’s personal, everything always is when it comes to Aisling.
“Let go of me!” I snarl, thrashing against the hold Nero and Oberon have on me. My blood sings with the need to tear into Luka, to make him pay for every ounce of pain Aisling must have felt. For every moment that I’ve suffered, not knowing…
Why does she always lie and lie and lie—
“Damn it, Gunnar, cool your head!” Oberon growls, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through the tense air. “This isn’t helping anyone!”
“Fuck that,” I spit out, pure venom in my words. “He marked her, Oberon! He fucking…he hurt her! How can you tolerate this?!”
“Everyone’s staring, stop this now!” Vance commands, looking around at the crowd gathering, their eyes wide and eager for the drama unfolding before them.
For a moment, there’s a standstill, the heavy breaths of all involved filling the space between us. Then slowly, reluctantly, I let them pull me away, each step back feeling like a mile. My fists uncurl, but the anger doesn’t fade—it simmers inside me, waiting for the next spark to set it ablaze once more.
“Of course you’d beat the hell out of Luka,” Vance spits out, his voice rising over the muffled sounds of the bar. “After what you tried to pull on the Mojave Skyway—trying to take us all out.”
I freeze mid-struggle, my anger throttling back a notch, replaced by confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Assassins, Gunnar!” Vance’s bright blue eyes flicker with a fury that matches the storm inside me. “On the Skyway, they came after us. Nearly blew us to hell. You think we wouldn’t figure it was you? They fucking told us, and you’re sitting here sipping drinks like…fuck, like you never even gave a damn. I get it with me, but Aisling? Oberon? Luke and Rook?”
“Me? Assassins?” Now, I’m the one taken aback. The idea is ludicrous. I’m a lot of things but not a coward who strikes from the shadows. My gaze snaps to Nero, searching his face for any hint of deceit. “Did you send them?”
Nero shakes his head, his dark hair swaying slightly as his brown eyes lock onto mine. “It wasn’t me, Gunnar. I swear.”
He says it with such conviction, I believe him. He’s too smart to lie when it could easily be traced back, and right now, his focus has been elsewhere.
“Then who the hell was it?” I demand, my voice a low growl, barely containing the tumultuous mix of betrayal and rage. The question hangs in the air like a guillotine blade poised to fall.
“Whoever it is,” Oberon interjects, his voice steady and commanding, “they’re playing games. And they want us at each other’s throats.”
“Seems like they’re getting their wish,” Rook mutters, eyeing the tension that still crackles between us.
“Enough!” Vance barks. “We’ve got bigger problems than this pointless brawl. We need to find out who’s behind this, and why.”
“Agreed,” Nero says, finally letting go of my arm. “But for now, let’s keep our heads and not give them the satisfaction of watching us tear each other apart.”
I nod, tight-lipped, my mind racing. Someone out there is trying to kill us, and they’ve just made it personal. Whoever it is, they’re going to regret crossing me.
But for now, I have to play it smart…
…and if Aisling is here, I have to talk to her.