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"I am," she says. "And I know what I want."
He growls, shaking his head.
"And you two," he turns his glare towards Rook and Luka, "thought it wise to harbor an Eclipse whore?"
"She's not a whore," I counter, feeling Luka's silent support beside me. "She was their prisoner."
"Sheltering her could be seen as an act of war, you realize that?" He leans in, close enough that I can smell the pricy vanilla and tobacco on his breath, a stark contrast to the danger in his eyes.
"Sometimes wars are necessary," I mutter.
"Is that what you want, Finch?" Vance pins me with a look that could cut glass. "A war on your hands?"
No, I don't want a war. But what I want doesn't seem to matter much these days. It's about survival, about protecting what's mine—protecting Aisling. And if that means standing against the tidal wave Vance is hinting at, then I'll stand tall and brace for impact.
"Whatever it takes," I say, meeting his challenge.
"Brave words." Vance steps back, appraising us like we're pieces on his chessboard. "But bravery won't keep you alive."
The silence weighs down on us as he scrutinizes us, stroking his beard and watching Aisling. I know he's trying to figure out what to do with her...because she's absolutely right.
He can't just give her back now.
Vance's voice cuts through the tension like a knife.
"Lock them up," he barks, not even sparing us a backward glance. His betas shuffle forward, all business, no bullshit. "I need to figure this out."
"Wait—" I start but get shoved hard against the wall, Rook's hand on my chest keeping me from launching at them.
"Easy, Finch," Rook hisses, his grip iron on my sternum. "This ain't the time."
"Let go of me," I snarl, trying to shake him off. But he's right; I'm hot-headed, not stupid. Aisling's fingers tighten around mine, her touch the only thing keeping my rage from boiling over.
"Take your hands off her," I growl as one of Vance's men reaches for Aisling.
"Orders are orders, Finch," the beta says with a shrug that makes me want to rip his throat out. He doesn't know it, but he's playing with fire. My fire.
They herd us down the hall, the click of locks behind us a grim punctuation. The room they shove us into is small, cramped—a cage without bars, tucked behind the altar where we had sex last night. Aisling's breath comes fast and shaky, her scent spiked with fear and defiance.
"Hey, look at me," I say, cupping her face in my hands. Her eyes meet mine, a storm brewing in their depths. "We'll get out of this. I promise."
Her lips press into a thin line. "I know we will."
There's steel in her voice, the kind of resolve that tells me she's not just anyone's omega. She's mine.
And hell will freeze over before I let them take her from me.
"Stay quiet," the beta guarding the door grunts. "Boss man's deciding what's next for you two."
"Like hell he is," I mutter under my breath, pacing the tight space like a caged animal. Every nerve ending screams to break free, to tear down the walls and claim back our freedom.
"Stop moving," Aisling whispers, her hand reaching out to still me. "You're making me dizzy."
"Sorry," I say, but I can't stop. Can't settle when every cell in my body is primed for a fight.
"Think, Gunnar. We need a plan," Aisling says, voice low and steady despite the chaos. "Not brute force."
The silence stretches, punctuated by the distant thud of footsteps, the murmur of voices beyond the door. We’re pawns on Vance’s board, but even pawns can cross the whole damn board and become something more. Something dangerous.
