15. Rook
Chapter fifteen
Rook
The moment of truth has arrived.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee wraps around me like a blanket as I step into the Pack Suite, the warmth of the room coaxing a satisfied sigh from my lips. It’s still early, but the place buzzes with the comforting hum of my packmates, their presence grounding and familiar.
“Morning,” I mutter, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, though the afterglow from last night’s escapades with Aisling lingers on my skin, betraying the energy that thrums just beneath the surface.
Aisling, hair tousled and cheeks flushed with the same residual pleasure, slips in beside me, her hand finding mine under the table—a silent connection that sings through my veins.
Oberon chuckles from across the room, his eyebrow arching in playful accusation as he catches sight of us. “Look what the cat dragged in. Or should I say, what Rook dragged out of bed?”
“More like what couldn’t keep Rook in bed,” Gunnar pipes up, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk.
I can’t help but grin back at them, shrugging off the comments with the ease of someone who’s found his footing in this tangled web we call a pack. “Can’t start the day without fuel, right?”
Aisling’s light laugh rings out, mingling with the clinking of cups and the soft shuffle of feet. She doesn’t need to say a word; her grey eyes sparkle with shared amusement, and it’s enough for me.
Luka watches from the head of the table, his gaze lingering on us with an intensity that borders on protective. His smile is genuine though, a rare sight that speaks volumes—it’s as if seeing Aisling and me together, happy, has filled in a missing piece of his puzzle.
“Good to have you both join the land of the living,” Luka says, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken relief. “Feels like family now.”
“Always was,” I reply quietly, squeezing Aisling’s hand beneath the table. My affirmation isn’t just for her, but for all of us—to remind us of the bond that ties us together, no matter how frayed it becomes at times.
“Looks like someone had a bit too much fun last night,” Gunnar teases, his voice rife with mirth as he glances over at us. The scent of coffee is strong, but it’s nothing compared to the lingering scent that seems to follow Aisling and me into the room—mine now interwoven with hers, with the rest of the pack.
I feel my face heat up at the comment, but I can’t help the grin that tugs at the corner of my lips. “What can I say? When inspiration strikes, one must answer the call,” I quip back, keeping the mood light and playful.
Aisling chuckles beside me, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink that only enhances her beauty. “And here I thought the ‘Stargazer’ was known for her nighttime observations,” Oberon chimes in, winking at Aisling, who rolls her eyes but can’t quite hide her smile.
“Observations were…thorough,” she retorts, her tone teasing. I catch the glint of mischief in her eyes, the same spark that drew me to her from the start.
“Thorough, huh?” Luka interjects with a chuckle. “Hope you two left some energy for today’s plans.”
“Always,” Aisling assures him, her voice steady despite the laughter that threatens to break through. She’s resilient, our omega, a pillar of strength even when her world keeps spinning.
The laughter fades as the weight of the day’s agenda settles over us. I glance at Luka, and the playful glint in his eyes has turned to steel. It’s time to get serious.
“Speaking of today,” I start, leaning back in my chair and locking eyes with him. “We need to talk about the Mojave Lab.”
Luka nods, his expression grim. “I haven’t forgotten. Dr. Malik is running the show there—the same bastard who dosed us both on New Eden.”
“Dr. Malik…” Aisling murmurs, her face clouding over with the memory. She grips her mug a little tighter, and I reach out, placing a reassuring hand over hers.
“We can’t let him slip through our fingers again,” Luka states firmly. “Not after what he did—what he could still do if given the chance.”
“Agreed. He’s a threat to every pack, not just ours,” I add. “This time, we end it. No more playing around.”
“Exactly.” Aisling’s voice is low but resolute, the grey of her eyes darkening like storm clouds on the horizon. “He’s not just some mad scientist—he’s dangerous.”
“Absolutely,” I affirm, squeezing Aisling’s hand before releasing it. “So we need to make sure that we’re armed for every possible scenario. No surprises.”
“Right. What are we packing?” Luka asks, his mind already shifting into tactical mode.
“EMP grenades to knock out any tech defenses Malik’s cooked up. Plus, the usual—firearms with silencers, plenty of ammo. And for close-quarters…” I pause, gauging their reactions, “I’m thinking blades—quiet and deadly.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Luka nods, his eyes scanning the group, making silent assessments. “And body armor?”
“Lightweight but strong. We need mobility if we have to move fast.” The practical concerns start forming a checklist in my head. “We’ll raid the armory after breakfast.”
“Got it.” Luka agrees, then leans forward, elbows on the table, lowering his voice. “What about contingencies? If things go sideways?”
“Two teams—one front, one back. If anyone gets pinned down, the other sweeps in,” I suggest, watching his reaction closely.
“Signal jammers too, cut their comms off from the outside world.” Luka adds, tapping his finger thoughtfully on the tabletop. “We can’t afford any leaks or calls for backup.”
“Good call.” I nod with approval. “We’ll also need a safe extraction point, somewhere we can regroup if we need to retreat and reassess.”
“Escape routes, check.” Aisling interjects, her strategic side surfacing. “But let’s not forget non-lethals, just in case we need to take someone alive for intel.”
“Stun guns and tranqs, then.” I confirm, impressed by her foresight.
“Exactly.” She flashes me a quick smile, her grey eyes sharp.
“Alright, let’s wrap this up.” I glance around the table, seeing nods of agreement. But Gunnar, always the protector, wears a frown that speaks volumes.
“Hey,” Gunnar starts, leaning back in his chair with a creak, “We’re talking heavy fire here. Are we really ready for this? Our pack, going head-to-head with Malik’s goons? It’s not just about being armed to the teeth.”
I catch Luka’s eye, and there’s a momentary flicker of uncertainty before he masks it with determination. “Gunnar has a point. It’s one thing to plan, another to face live rounds whizzing past your ears.”
“Look,” I say, voice firm as steel, “we’ve all seen some hellish stuff. But this is different. This is personal. And Inari offered us all the resources we need, right? Manpower, supplies, weapons…” I pause, looking at every single one of my pack—Aisling, Gunnar, Oberon, Luka. “We’ve got to do this. Not just for us, but for everyone who’s suffered under Malik’s experiments. We’ve been through worse and come out on top.”
“Exactly,” Aisling says. “We train hard until it’s go time. We know what we’re walking into…and I want Malik dead and eros off the streets—for good this time.”
For a moment, the room falls quiet, everyone lost in their own tactical musings. It’s then I realize we’ve skirted around one particular issue.
My gut tightens.
“Before we end this,” I begin, feeling all eyes pivot back to me, “there’s one more thing—Vance.”
The tension in the room changes, becomes heavier. Vance Solace, the wildcard. Hopelessly tangled with Aisling’s heartstrings and now, a potential threat with too many unknowns.
“If we truly intend on bringing Nero into the pack, Vance will already be suspicious, and his paranoia has reached dangerous heights as it is,” I tell them. “I met with him the other night, and he’s…well, he’s on the brink. All our safety could be on the line once Nero is one of us.”
Gunnar shakes his head. “That’s all true, but I have no fucking idea what to do about him. I hate him, but…he’s my half-brother, a friend of you and Luka. We can’t just take him out—especially because we could never bring the Angels into line if we did.”
“Exactly,” I say. “But this raid might give us the cover we need to take him out of play.”
Luka cocks his head. “What are you suggesting?”
“Stage his death?” Oberon suggests, with a certain coldness that suggests he’s already considered the option.
“Controlled, convincing,” I clarify. “It would shake the Angels and rally them around Gunnar, give us leverage.”
“Are you suggesting we make it public? Because that could kick off a turf war we might not be ready for,” Luka warns, always thinking three steps ahead.
“Which is why it has to look real. Make it a ‘tragic accident’ during the raid,” I explain, watching the idea settle over the group like a mantle.
“High risk,” Aisling murmurs, concern etched into her features. “But if it means reining in Vance, then I think Inari might—”
Her voice is abruptly cut short by the buzzing of the comms unit nestled on the wall. We all turn towards the sound, the screen illuminating to reveal the caller ID.
Inari Toure.
“Speak of the devil,” I mutter under my breath as Gunnar strides over and presses the accept button.
“Good morning, Angels,” Inari’s smooth voice greets us, her image sharp against the screen. Her eyes seem to penetrate through the digital barrier, holding an intensity that commands attention.
“Morning, Inari,” Gunnar replies. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“I want to meet,” she says, cutting straight to the chase. “All of you. There are developments regarding our mutual…interests. And time is critical.”
“Developments?” I echo, sharing a glance with Luka, who leans forward attentively.
“Indeed. I suggest you come prepared for more than just pleasantries,” Inari continues, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “I’ll see you in my office in fifteen.”
The screen goes dark, leaving us in silence. The air is charged with a new kind of anticipation, one that promises that the game is about to change once again.
“Looks like breakfast is over,” Oberon quips.
I guess it is…and our world is about to be shaken once again.