23. Rook
The Bellanova’s neon sign flickers at my back as I shove my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket and take to the streets. The air is thick with the scent of spilt oil and stale booze, a stench I’ve come to associate with freedom—or something like it.
Oasis sprawls out before me, a city alive with the kind of energy that only comes when everything’s for sale. Neon lights buzz overhead, casting long shadows across my path. Memories slip through the cracks in the pavement, rising up like ghosts as I pass the old haunts and hidden alleyways where I cut my teeth.
“Rook Rainier,” I muse, the name still tastes odd on my tongue, like borrowed shoes you gotta break in. “You made it out, you bastard.”
Not so long ago, I was just a number, another body in the chain gang of the European Authority, until Inari Toure’s coin bought my ticket out. I remember the first time I stepped foot in one of her labs, the sterile smell of chemicals mixing with sweat—a cocktail of desperation and ambition. My hands shook as I measured and poured, learning the ropes fast because screwing up wasn’t an option.
I’d already screwed up once, and it damn near cost me my life.
From that day on, I was always careful.
And it was different with Inari—different than working in that EA lab, where I helped manufacture alpha supremacy. The Palms, Inari’s gang, they took me in, gave me a purpose. It was there, among the vials and burners, that Rook Rainier was forged from the remnants of a life left to rust.
The Moonshine Lounge looms ahead, its flickering sign a beacon in the encroaching dusk. I shove my hands into the pockets of my jacket, feeling the old familiar pull of this place, like a thread tugging at the edges of my new life.
“Long time no see,” I mutter under my breath as I push open the door, the creak of the hinges sounding like a welcome back from an old friend. The scent of cheap booze and cheaper perfume slams into me. It’s a smell that’s somehow comforting, filled with memories of late nights and hushed exchanges.
I used to come here, a bag full of suppressants slung over my shoulder, dealing out doses to omegas who wanted nothing more than to escape the relentless call of their biology. I wasn’t just a dealer; I was an ally. We were all trying to carve out some semblance of control in a world that didn’t want us to have any.
Taking a seat at the bar, I scan the faces. Time’s done its dance, shuffling the deck, leaving me with strangers where once there were familiar nods and half-smiles. The bartender—a male omega—throws me a glance, his eyes skimming past me like I’m just another shadow.
“Whiskey, neat,” I say, voice low, not looking for conversation.
“Got it,” he replies, pulling down a bottle with a label that’s seen better days.
The glass hits the bar with a soft thud, the amber liquid catching the light like molten gold. I raise it to my lips, letting the burn slide down my throat, a slow heat spreading through my chest. It feels like a handshake, an acknowledgment of the years gone by.
The seat next to me scrapes against the worn floor, and I don’t need to look to know someone’s claiming it.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” a voice like smoked honey greets me, rich and unexpectedly familiar.
My gaze snaps to the side, taking in the sight of Luna Lux—proprietress of the Moonshine, sharp as a tack, and a damn rare female alpha. Her hair falls in a cascade of silver waves, a stark contrast to the dim lighting of the bar, eyes like twin moons in an ink-dark sky that miss nothing.
“Didn’t think I’d see you back in Oasis,” she says with a smirk that’s all challenge and charisma.
“Evening, Luna.” I can’t help but grin back because despite everything, seeing her feels like stumbling onto an oasis in the middle of the desert. “Just passing through.”
“Is that so?” She signals the bartender with a flick of her wrist, and he nods, understanding immediately. “His drinks are on the house tonight,” she tells him, her tone brooking no argument.
“Thanks,” I say, giving her a nod of appreciation.
We go back, not in the way of lovers, but as two people who’ve seen enough darkness to recognize the light in each other. Luna’s always had a soft spot for strays and underdogs; maybe that’s why she never charged me for the drinks.
“Cheers,” she raises her own glass—a clear liquid on the rocks—and taps it against mine before taking a sip. The ice clinks, a small symphony of normalcy in this place of secrets and survival.
“Never thought I’d see the Moonshine without needing to watch my back,” I confess, half to the whiskey, half to her.
“Times change,” Luna replies, eyes scanning the room with the vigilance of a predator, yet there’s a softness to her that wasn’t there before. “But some things stay the same. Like this dive.”
“True.” I take a slow sip of the whiskey, feeling it warm my insides. It’s good stuff, not like the rotgut I used to knock back in the old days.
“Spill then,” she leans in, her elbows on the bar, that alpha presence flaring with a kind of intensity that demands truths. “What’s got Rook Rainier wandering into my lounge after all this time?”
“Work.” The answer comes out terse, because even now, Inari’s name carries weight—a weight of loyalty and blood. “I’m here for Inari.”
“Ah, the queen bee herself.” Luna nods, unsurprised. “Heard a whisper about Angels flocking to town. Didn’t peg you for flying with them though.”
“Angels?” I scoff lightly. “More like vultures at times.”
“Still, rumor has it you’ve climbed the ranks. Not just some grunt anymore.” Her tone is casual, but her gaze is sharp, looking for the truth beneath the surface.
“Rumors love to talk.” My reply is evasive, but Luna knows how to read between the lines.
“Come on, Rook. Give me something to work with here.” Luna’s voice is edged with a playful challenge, her eyebrow arching in anticipation.
“Alright,” I relent, leaning back into the comfort of my bar stool, the leather creaking softly against my weight. “Pacific City’s been good to me. Got my own place now. It’s nice, you know? Having a space that’s just mine.”
Luna lets out a low whistle, impressed or feigning it well enough. “Look at you. Domesticated and all.”
“Hardly.” The laugh that escapes me is throaty, tinged with irony. “But it’s a life. And it’s good.”
She mirrors my posture, leaning back with an air of nonchalance that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just good?” She studies me for a moment, and I can tell she’s digging for more than I’m willing to give up. “Seeing anyone special?”
I snort, the sound sharper than I intend. “That’s one way to put it.” My hand tightens around my glass, the whiskey barely touched now.
“Complicated, huh?” Her smirk deepens as she catches the flicker of emotions across my face. “Sounds juicy. Do tell.”
“Juicy’s one word for it,” I mutter, tracing my finger along the rim of the glass, watching the amber liquid swirl. “There’s someone, but she’s…tied up at the moment. Three alphas deep, if you catch my drift.”
Luna cocks her head to the side, the smirk never leaving her lips as she takes a sip from her own drink. “Now that’s quite the predicament, Rook.”
“Tell me about it,” I say, the half-hearted attempt at humor doing little to mask the sting of truth in my words.
The way Aisling’s name burns on the tip of my tongue, unspoken.
Luna reaches over, her hand briefly touching mine in a rare gesture of solidarity. “I know firsthand that you put most alphas to shame in the bedroom—not that I would step on this girl’s toes by propositioning you, at least without a price,” she chuckles. “But trust that you have nothing to worry about; male alphas are all knots and domination, and you…you’re different. Better.”
I snort again, trying to shake off the compliment as easily as I would a stray thought. “Yeah, right.”
“Rook, trust me,” Luna insists, her gaze locking onto mine, fierce and unwavering. “If there’s anyone who can navigate this kind of mess, it’s you. You’re better than most, in more ways than one.”
“Thanks, Luna,” I find myself saying, the words coming out softer than expected. Humility isn’t my usual suit, but from her, it feels like something akin to absolution. “Means a lot, coming from you.”
“Because I’m a professional?”
I laugh out loud now, shaking my head. “Because you’re not so bad in the bedroom yourself.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Rook,” Luna smirks, her eyes glinting with that shrewd spark I’ve come to respect. “But let’s cut to the chase. What’s your game in Oasis this time around?”
I lean back, feeling the weight of the question. “Like I said, I’m workin’ for Inari,” I admit, swirling the remnants of my drink. “Didn’t think I’d be back here, but life’s a bitch like that.”
“Speaking of Inari,” she says, her tone dropping an octave, “I’ve noticed the Bluestockings crawling all over the city lately.”
“Yeah…was wondering about that,” I mutter, my brows knitting together. “Since when is Inari working with them?”
“Been a few weeks now.” Luna eyes me with the kind of look that could cut steel. “They’re up to something, and it doesn’t sit right.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” I reply, mulling over the pieces of this puzzle I didn’t even know I was part of. “Inari’s always playing chess while the rest of us are stuck on checkers.”
“True enough,” she agrees. “But it’s their leader, Isla Connolly, that really has me on edge.”
“I know her—from a long time ago,” I admit. “What about her has you shaken?”
“Let’s just say she’s not one to play nice in the sandbox. The woman’s got ambition that could choke out the sun, and I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her—which, considering I’m an alpha, says a lot.”
“Think she’s planning a coup or something?” The thought alone is enough to make my skin prickle.
“Could be. Or maybe it’s something else entirely.” Luna’s voice is low, almost conspiratorial. “All I know is, when Isla Connolly wants something, she’s not above stepping over a few bodies to get it. And with Inari getting cozy with them, well…” She trails off, leaving the sentence hanging like a guillotine blade.
“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath. Trouble is brewing, and here I am, caught in the damn storm without an umbrella. “Thanks for the heads up.”
But then something clicks.
The hit on the Mojave Skyway…Gunnar’s denial, Nero’s ignorance. Could Isla have something to do with it? Is she trying to curry favor with the new leaders of the Angels and the Eclipse?
I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her—which isn’t far.
“Listen, Luna,” I lean in closer, lowering my voice even more, “You heard anything about Inari or Isla wanting a pack dead?”
Her sharp gaze cuts to me, and for a second, the usual smirking confidence in her eyes flickers out, replaced by something colder, more calculating. “Rook, that’s dangerous talk.”
“Can’t help where my mind goes.” I shrug, trying to seem nonchalant despite the way my gut tightens. “With everything that’s been happening, lines are getting blurred.”
“Things like what?”
I tense, frowning. I know I shouldn’t spread this around…but Luna’s a longtime friend, and you have to trust someone. “A group of assassins tried to take us all out on the Mojave Skyway. Me, Aisling Faye, her pack…and Vance Solace, too.”
She hisses out a breath. “Jesus, Rook. Could’ve led with that.”
“Inari’s the one who invited us out here. Isla knows me from…from before. Gunnar and Nero are in town. It could be any one of them.”
Luna takes a slow sip of her drink, eyes never leaving mine. She sets down her glass with a soft clink that seems too loud in this moment of tension. “You’re not the only one who’s noticed things are off-kilter. But digging into this? It’s like playing with fire—and not in the fun way. Inari has eyes and ears everywhere.”
“Never pegged you for someone who’s afraid of a little heat,” I tease, but my heart isn’t in it. The stakes are too high.
“Me? Never.” A ghost of her typical smirk returns. “But for you, I’ll ask around. Just keep your head down, Rook. This city chews up truth-seekers and spits them out.”
“Appreciate it, Luna.” I nod, grateful despite the unease gnawing at my insides. “Just be careful, yeah? Inari’s got a long reach, and Isla… she’s always played a different game altogether.”
“Always am, darling.” She winks, but there’s a seriousness to her tone that tells me she understands the gravity of it all. “Stay safe, Rook. Oasis is a storm waiting to burst, and when it does, it won’t care who gets swept away.”
“Never do,” I reply, forcing a grin as I take another swig of my drink. But inside, I know this conversation has changed the game.
And I can’t shake the feeling that we’re all pawns on someone else’s board.