7. Gunnar
Chapter seven
Gunnar
The click of the lock jerks my head up from my bitter coffee. Luka’s hand halts midway to his mouth, Oberon’s brow furrows.
It’s only been an hour, but there she is: Aisling—our Stargazer—her pale hands clutching the doorframe like it might slip away. Her white-blonde hair, usually a halo of chaos, lies limp, and those grey eyes that once held constellations now seem clouded with an impending storm.
“Hey,” I call out, forcing a grin on my lips, but it drops as fast as it appeared. She looks like hell, and that’s saying something in our shattered world. When she left what feels like minutes ago, she looked bright-eyed and ready to take on whatever came our way…but something must have happened.
Oberon’s chair scrapes against the floor, a harsh sound that seems too loud in our tense bubble. He’s up, moving towards her with a purpose. “What’s wrong?” His voice cuts through the silence, each word landing heavy in the room.
Aisling doesn’t meet any of our eyes—mine, Luka’s, or Oberon’s—as she slogs forward. Oberon’s there, his large hand gentle around hers, a silent offer of strength. With a nod toward the chair he’s pulled out, she collapses into it, her body language screaming defeat more than her silence ever could.
“Talk to us,” I prod, leaning in, desperate to fix whatever’s broken this time.
But when it comes to Aisling, I’m learning that some fractures are beyond even my reach.
She draws in a shaky breath, and her voice is a threadbare whisper as she begins to unravel the knot that’s formed in her chest. “I spoke with Inari,” she says, and we all lean in closer, instinctively forming a protective circle around our omega. “She proposed that I take Nero Rossi as a mate.”
My laugh bursts out, unbidden and sharp, like glass shattering against concrete. It’s absurd, so wildly out of left field that for a moment, humor overtakes reason.
Aisling’s eyes snap to mine, shocked by my reaction. Then, she exhales, her shoulders hunching as if bracing against a blow. “I know, I thought it was ridiculous too,” she admits, and there’s a hint of that fire I’m used to seeing in her. That spark that says she won’t be anyone’s pawn.
Oberon doesn’t share our brief amusement. His brow furrows, and he shakes his head, a scowl forming on his normally placid face. “I don’t like it,” he growls, the protective alpha rising to the fore. “Using her as a pawn…” He trails off, but then something shifts behind his eyes—calculation, strategy. “But it might be useful.”
I’m caught between the remnants of laughter and the sudden gravity of what Oberon’s suggesting. None of us are strangers to using whatever means necessary for survival. But this? This feels like a line we haven’t crossed before.
“Useful how?” Luka chimes in, leaning forward, his dark brows knitting together. He’s always been one for direct action, less for the political chess game, but even he can’t deny the weight of Oberon’s words.
“Think about it.” Oberon’s voice is low, a dangerous rumble that has us all listening intently. “If Aisling and Nero were mated, it could shift the balance. We could use their alliance to our advantage.”
I mull over the implications, the possibilities spreading out before us like a dark, twisted path. It’s a gamble, a high-stakes play in a game where the rules are written in blood and betrayal.
And yet, if it keeps Aisling safe—if it gives us an edge against the chaos lapping at our doors—it just might be a risk worth taking.
“Actually,” I start, the words rough in my throat as I wrestle with the implications, “I’m not opposed to it.”
A collective gasp travels around the table. Even Aisling looks up at me, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“Seriously?” Luka’s voice is a mix of incredulity and concern. He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest as if bracing for impact.
“Seriously,” I confirm, locking eyes with each of them in turn. “It’s not about using Aisling. It’s about protecting her…and let’s face it, we need to deal with Vance. If this alliance can help us do that without starting an all-out war with the Eclipse, then I say we consider it.”
There’s a heavy silence that follows, the kind that fills the room with a weight you can almost feel pressing on your shoulders.
“Neutralize Vance and divide the Eclipse,” I elaborate, leaning forward, my elbows on the table. “It’s like hitting two birds with one stone. And Nero…” I pause, considering the man I’ve come to know—a wildcard, sure, but not without his merits, “I trust him. More than that, I think there’s a part of him that can be reasoned with.”
Aisling’s gaze is fixed on me, her lips parted slightly as if she’s about to speak but can’t quite find the words. It’s a big play, and the gravity of it isn’t lost on any of us.
“Are you serious, Gunnar?” Her voice is a thread, barely carrying across the expanse of wood between us
“Dead serious.” I meet her eyes, trying to convey every ounce of conviction I feel.
She hesitates, looking from me to Oberon, then Luka, and back again. “Do we need to talk about this alone?” Her question hangs between us, an invitation to secrecy, to revert to old habits where decisions were made behind closed doors.
But those days are over. We’re a pack; fractured, maybe, but still bound by something fiercer than the chaos outside these walls.
“No.” The word is out before I can second-guess it. “Whatever happens, whatever we decide…it’s not just about us anymore. Oberon, Luka—they’re in this with us. We stand together.”
Oberon clears his throat, and I turn to look at him. He’s the steady one, the voice of reason when the rest of us are ready to leap without looking. “We have to be strategic about this,” he says, his voice low but carrying a weight that demands attention. “An alliance with Nero could be our ace, but it will set Vance off. And he’s teetering on the edge as it is.”
Oberon’s right. Vance is a powder keg, and news of Aisling’s potential mating with another alpha—especially Nero Rossi—would be the spark.
“Then we need to meet with Nero first,” I say, my mind already racing through the logistics of such a meeting. “Face-to-face, no intermediaries. We lay it all out for him.”
I stand up, pushing the chair back with a scrape that seems too loud in the charged silence. My gut clenches because I know what I’m suggesting risks more than just our safety—it risks the fragile trust Aisling and I have started to rebuild. But there’s something else too, an undercurrent of excitement at the thought of playing this dangerous game.
“Oberon, Luka, we need you two to hold down the fort here. Cover for us.” I glance between them, silently pleading for their cooperation without having to spell it out.
Luka nods, his expression unreadable as always since the eros-fueled incident that brought him unwillingly into our fold. There’s tension there, unspoken apologies and resentments that coil around us like barbed wire. But now isn’t the time to address it.
“Got it,” Oberon says, rising from his seat. His eyes lock onto mine, a silent vow that he’ll protect this place, our people, with everything he’s got. I don’t doubt it for a second. Oberon might be the heart of us, but he’s also the shield.
“Let’s go,” I tell Aisling, extending my hand to help her up. She hesitates, then places her smaller, paler hand in mine. Her skin is cool to the touch, her grip tentative but firm.
“Alright,” she whispers, and there’s a new determination in her eyes. “But Gunnar…if you have any hesitations, you need to tell me right away.”
“I will,” I nod. “Promise.”