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Gunnar
It’s almost dawn when I finally get back to our place, exhausted and ready to curl up with my pack and go the fuck to sleep. Unfortunately that doesn’t appear to be a possibility…
…because something clearly went wrong on their little mission.
I’ve only just gotten home and shut the door behind me when my eyes catch on the blood that stains Oberon’s sleeve, a red so deep it speaks of trouble. Aisling stands close, her body wound tight as a spring, face pale where it isn’t shadowed by concern.
“Oberon, what the hell happened?”
My voice comes out harsher than I intend, but the sight of them like this—wounded, shaken—sets off alarms in the pit of my stomach. My mind races through the possibilities…that they got caught by some Eclipse goons, that Oberon had to protect Aisling from something…
He looks at me, his brown eyes steady even as he winces from the pain. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” I snap back, closing the distance to inspect the gash myself.
Aisling steps forward, her hand reaching out as if to calm, then seems to think better of it and pulls back. “We’re okay, Gunnar. Really.”
There’s a tremble in her voice that doesn’t sit right with me. She’s strong, stronger than most give her credit for, but it’s clear something shook her tonight. Something more than just a ‘scratch’.
“Okay?” I echo, skepticism heavy in my tone. “Look at you two. You’re not okay. This is exactly why I don’t want you going out alone.”
“Alone?” Oberon chuckles, a low sound devoid of humor. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re hardly ever alone.”
“Still,” I insist, stubbornness clawing its way up my throat. “It’s not safe. Not anymore.”
“Since when has safety been our priority?” Oberon asks, his gaze flicking to Aisling. They share a silent conversation in a glance, one I can’t quite catch the meaning of. I don’t love it.
“Since I don’t want to find either of you dead in an alley,” I retort, my hands balling into fists. The thought alone is enough to ignite a fury inside me, a protective rage that feels as old as time.
“None of us are dying today,” Aisling says, her voice firmer now. “We’ve got too much to do. But…”
She and Oberon exchange another glance—which annoys me more than it should.
“Out with it,” I mutter. “Come on, guys.”
“We were attacked by one of those drug-addled alphas,” she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Came out of nowhere. Must have thought we were easy prey.”
“By the time he realized his mistake,” Oberon adds, his voice rough, “we’d given him a fight to remember.”
I take in the scene—the blood, the tension in Aisling’s shoulders—and I feel my protective instincts roar to life. “He can do whatever he wants. You shouldn’t be out there alone. Not now.”
Aisling halts, turns to face me with fierce determination in her eyes. “We can handle ourselves, Gunnar. We have to.”
“Dammit, Aisling,” I grind out, frustration boiling over. “It’s not about handling yourselves. It’s about not taking unnecessary risks.”
She meets my gaze evenly, unflinching. “Until this is over, every risk is necessary.”
I let out a breath, trying to rein in my worry. From the corner of my eye, I can see annoyance touch Oberon’s expression for a second. They’re capable, both of them, but the thought of anything happening…
“Vance isn’t happy,” I say, changing tack, hoping to ground myself in the facts rather than fear. “Met with him earlier. He’s got wind of cults stirring up trouble again. Thinks it’s connected to what we’re dealing with.”
“Great,” Oberon mutters, standing up carefully. “Because things weren’t complicated enough.”
“Everyone’s saying we should leave town,” I continue.
Aisling frowns. “But we’re not running, are we?”
I shake my head. “No…not because I don’t feel like we should—but because I know you won’t do it.”
