Chapter 32 War
Noah stays the night after Tex. He brings tea he doesn’t know how to brew and a book he doesn’t think I’d want to read, but we end up talking until two in the morning.
About stars. Algorithms. Stupid hypothetical Guild tech no one has ever actually built.
Somewhere between him correcting himself mid-ramble and me laughing for real, his hand is holding mine.
By the time I fall asleep, his arm is around my waist, and my head is on his chest. I wake up like that too. We don’t talk about it.
The night after, Luca shows up like he’s hosting a sleepover in a five-star hotel. He’s wearing silk pajama pants with little dragons on them, black and gold, and carries a bag of snacks under one arm like it’s a mission kit. Under the other a rolled-up poster.
“Movie night,” he declares the second he walks in. “You need popcorn, sugar, and at least one unnecessarily hot guy in your bed. Lucky for you, I multitask.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re the worst.”
“I’m the best worst.”
“What’s the poster for?”
He kicks off his slippers — yes, actual slippers — and unrolls the poster.
“Feast your eyes!” His voice is dramatic. “The Riven Altar is the hottest band. Been around for a while, I’m sure you’ve heard them before.”
I shrug. “You’ll have to show me.”
“Do you live under a rock or something?” Luca gives me a look. “Anyways, you need some decoration on your walls. Plus, since I’m going to be staying here, I thought I might as well have something to make it feel a little more homey.”
I roll my eyes as he tapes it up on the wall. Four veiled members stare back. Luca flops onto my bed like he owns it. I almost laugh. It’s a familiar kind of chaos, Luca in motion. Loud and bright and impossible to hold still.
And maybe that’s the point.
We watch some ridiculous spy rom-com he insists is “underrated genius,” and for a while, I let it happen. He makes dumb commentary during all the dramatic music cues. Steals my candy. Drapes an arm behind me but never pulls me closer.
It’s easy. Halfway through the movie, I pause it.
He looks over. “Bathroom break? Emotional breakthrough? You finally realized you’re in love with me?”
I sit back, folding my legs under me. “Do you flirt like that with everyone?”
He raises an eyebrow, grin still in place but softer now. “Only with you.”
I study him for a second. “Why?”
Luca’s face freezes. Then, to my surprise, he shrugs. “Because it’s fun. Because I like you. Because you’re hot and terrifying and you never laugh at my jokes, but you almost do, and that keeps me chasing the high.”
“Luca—”
“But,” he says, sitting up straighter, “I’m not stupid.”
I blink at him. He runs a hand through his hair, and suddenly the performance drops. Not gone, just quieter. More serious.
“We’re not in a reverse-harem romance book,” he says, smiling faintly. “And you’re going to have to choose. Eventually.”
My breath catches.
He meets my gaze. “None of the guys are rushing you. You know that. We’re all just… orbiting. Waiting to see which way you turn.”
I try to speak, but he cuts in gently.
“You don’t owe us anything. But don’t pretend we don’t feel it.”
I look away. But he’s not done.
“I’ve known for a while it’s not going to be me.”
That makes my head snap back toward him. He’s smiling again, soft and sad.
“It’s okay. Don’t give me that look. I’ve seen the way you look at them. At him. I’m not going to say who, I won’t influence your choice. But it’s not me.”
My heart squeezes. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I like who I am around you. Even if it’s just your favorite disaster friend who occasionally sleeps in your bed and flirts too much.”
“You do flirt too much.”
He smirks. “But you’re used to it now.”
I nod. He shifts, lying back beside me, hands folded behind his head. “I meant what I said, though. I like being near you. Even if it’s not in the way I want. So, if you ever need someone to distract you, or annoy you, or sneak in midnight cupcakes…”
“You’ll be there?”
He smiles without looking at me. “Yeah, pretty girl. I’ll be there.”
The knock comes early. I barely have time to sit up before the door opens, and Jace steps in, already dressed in full uniform. His eyes sweep the room, instinctively checking corners before they flick toward my bed and stop.
Luca is sprawled beside me, shirtless, arm draped casually over his chest, one leg tangled in the blankets. His eyes are still closed, but there’s a smug curl to his lips like he knows exactly what this looks like.
Jace freezes. A flicker.
It vanishes almost as fast as it appears, buried under the familiar mask he always wears. Cold. Composed. Untouchable.
But I see it.
The flicker of something hot and sharp and possessive in his eyes. Jealousy. Then it’s gone.
He steps further into the room, followed by Noah and Tex, both already suited up in pressed uniforms, collars straight and boots polished. Noah glances over at Luca, then at me, and raises one eyebrow. Tex doesn’t say anything — just drops his duffle by the wall and starts checking over my gear.
“Emergency Guild meeting,” Jace says, not looking at the bed again.
“Lucian’s called in everyone,” Noah adds, already at my desk, pulling out my blazer and holding it up for inspection. “Senior operatives. Regional leads. You name it.”
“It’s full War Room protocol,” Tex mutters. “Something’s going down.”
Luca finally stretches, cracking one eye open. “Is it weird that I’m flattered they let me sleep?”
“Very,” Jace deadpans.
Luca grins.
“Get dressed,” I murmur, throwing a pillow at him.
The boys fall into motion like clockwork, throwing uniforms on, buttoning cuffs, tying ties. Even with the tension in the air, it’s seamless. Like they’ve done this a thousand times. And maybe they have.
What stuns me more than the urgency is how natural this feels now. How I’m not just tolerated in this rhythm, I’m part of it.
By the time we head out, I’m in full uniform too, boots laced, jacket crisp, hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Jace checks the hallway. Then we move.
When we reach the Guild building, I’m hit with it all at once.
The presence. The weight.
Guild members from every corner of the globe fill the grand chamber, older operatives in dark suits and long coats, younger recruits in sharp uniforms, commanders with scars and pins and reputations I’ve only heard whispered about.
They speak in clipped phrases, different languages, and quiet urgency. There’s no laughter. No small talk.
This isn’t a meeting. It’s a storm gathering. And I’m standing in the eye of it. My stomach twists.
Luca leans down beside me so his mouth is right against my ear, voice low. “Welcome to the big leagues, Ashthorne.”
Noah gives my wrist a subtle squeeze. Tex stays close, scanning every face that passes.
And Jace… Jace is still watching the room.
The room quiets like someone flips a switch. Voices drop. Movement stills. Dozens of eyes turn toward the massive oak doors at the far end of the hall as they swing open with a heavy thud.
Lucian Ashthorne enters without ceremony, with Max, Preston, and Derek trailing behind him.
He’s dressed in full Guild black, high-collared coat, gold insignia at his chest, shoulders squared with a kind of ruthless command that doesn’t ask for respect. He demands it.
Jace stiffens beside me. Luca straightens from where he was lounging against the wall. Even Tex shifts his stance. Only Noah doesn’t move, but his expression sharpens, gaze locked on Lucian’s face like he’s already calculating three steps ahead.
Lucian reaches the center of the room.
His eyes scan the crowd, not rushing, not lingering. Just marking.
Then he speaks. “In the Guild, we live by a code.”
Silence. No one dares interrupt.
“We do what others cannot. We go where others won’t. We act when others hesitate. But with that power comes discipline. Control. Purpose.”
He pauses. “And the knowledge that taking a life is not a line to cross lightly.”
His gaze sweeps the room again. “There are exceptions. There always have been. In combat. In self-defense. To prevent greater loss. These rules stand, and they will continue to stand.”
He steps forward, voice hardening. “But he did not kill in defense. He killed because it suited him. Because it gave him power. Because it served his greed.”
“Daniel Mercer,” Lucian says, cold as steel, “was once one of us. He wore our crest. He took our oaths. And then he betrayed everything we stand for.”
My chest goes tight. Like a rubber band being stretched to the absolute maximum. The boys are silent around me. Watching. Listening.
Lucian continues, “He took a life. And then another. And then,” his voice falters, just briefly, “he took my family.”
A flicker of emotion. Gone in a blink.
“He disappeared with my daughter. With her mother. Hid them from me. Lied. Manipulated. And now, after all these years, he resurfaces, not in peace, not in remorse, but with blood on his hands and a growing list of black-market contacts that point to something far more dangerous than one man going rogue.”
He turns, voice rising. “He is recruiting. Building something. A shadow network of mercenaries, forgers, and weapon smugglers. We’ve intercepted messages. Watched transactions. He’s planning something large. Strategic. And fast-moving.”
Lucian’s expression hardens to stone. “He’s gearing up for war.”
Murmurs spreads through the room, low, urgent.
Lucian lets it ride for a beat, then slams it still with his next words. “We don’t sit back and hope men like him fail. We act. Swiftly. Quietly. With precision.”
He draws a slow breath. “Over the next several weeks, you will receive new mission orders. Not one, not two… many. This isn’t a single strike. It’s a dismantling. A methodical takedown of his network. One piece at a time.”
He pauses, and I swear I feel his eyes rest on me.
“This will not be easy. And it will not be clean. But I promise you this, Daniel Mercer will not win this war.”
Silence follows. Thick. Absolute.