Page 79 of Sacrifice

“Let’s not make this harder than it has to be,” Oberon murmurs, his voice low. There’s an apology somewhere in those words, but it’s buried far too deeply for my liking.

Huxley leads the way, his steps measured, unruffled by the tension that hangs between us. We weave through the corridors, the sound of our footsteps a monotonous rhythm against the opulence of my former domain.

“Where are we going?” I ask, though part of me already knows. It’s not just about confinement or revenge. It’s about power, about showing me who’s really in charge. And as much as it burns, I can’t deny that right now, it’s not me.

The doors to the dining room swing open, and a wave of nostalgia hits me like a punch in the gut. The mahogany table stretches before us, its surface gleaming under the chandelier’s glow—a stark reminder of better days.

Days when I was in control.

At the head of the table sits Gunnar, his posture regal, his eyes sharp as they lock onto mine—eyes that are more like mine than I’ve ever cared to admit. To his right, Aisling, her blonde hair a stark contrast against the dark wood, her grey eyes reflecting a storm that’s yet to break. Nero, with his inscrutable gaze, occupies the left, while Rook hovers beside Aisling, a silent shadow.

“Vance, please take a seat,” Gunnar’s voice cuts through the silence, devoid of warmth. Luka and Oberon guide me forward, their grips unyielding, and nudge me into the chair at the opposite end.

An unfamiliar fury boils up inside me as I survey the faces around the table—faces I once trusted. My voice comes out as a growl, “What the hell is this about? What do you think you’re doing?”

Their silence is deafening, a psychological cage more confining than any cell. They trade glances, a silent conversation I’m not privy to, and it grates on my nerves.

“Look at you all, sitting pretty like you’ve got it all figured out,” I spit out, unable to contain the venom. “You’re liars, every last one of you. And if you think this little act is going to work out for you, you’re even dumber than I thought—”

“Vance,” Aisling interrupts me, voice sharp and certain as a knife’s edge. “We know about you and Lianna Rossi.”

A chill settles over me, despite the warmth of the room. My heart doesn’t pound, it steadies, like the calm before a storm. At her signal, all my sins laid bare to those who once followed me without question. I feel the eyes on me, but I don’t flinch. Instead, I meet her gaze, those pools of grey that seem to see right through me.

“Is that so?” My voice is steady, betraying none of the chaos brewing inside.

“Mmhm.” She snaps her fingers, a crisp sound echoing off the walls. “We know that together, you staged the assassination attempt on the Mojave skyway…and that she tried to kill Nero.”

“I wasn’t part of that—”

“We’re aware,” Rook says, voice rough. He’s a statue, his usual smirk gone, eyes downcast. Traitor.

“I guess I should have known you had a hand in this, Rook,” I say, though it comes out more resigned than bitter. “Guess it was too much to expect loyalty from a rat.”

He winces, just slightly, and I know I’ve hit a nerve.

“Taking down Caius…” I continue, forcing myself to look away from him, addressing the room now, “was necessary. You all know what he’s capable of. Siding with Lianna was a means to an end.”

“Look, Vance,” Gunnar starts, his tone lacking the usual bite, “we know you had your reasons. That’s why we’re sitting here, not to play judge and jury.” He gestures around the table, silverware clinking softly against the fine china.

I hum, crossing my arms despite the tight grip Luka and Oberon have on them. Trust isn’t something I hand out easily, especially not here, not now. But I’m not in much of a position to argue.

“Lianna Rossi,” I say, testing the name on my tongue like it’s a new flavor—bitter, with a hint of necessity. “Yeah, I had an in. She wanted Caius gone as much as we did.”

“Details,” Aisling demands, her voice slicing through the tense air. Sharp, no-nonsense.

“Fine.” I lean back a little, trying to ignore the ache in my shoulders from the guards’ hold. “We planned to undermine him from the inside. Shipping routes, supply info, names of loyalists.” I rattle off the list, each word a nail in the coffin I’d been building for Caius. “Had to get close to her, gain her trust. You know how this game is played.”

“Right,” Gunnar acknowledges with a nod. “And that’s exactly what we intend to do.”

“What?” I start, but then it clicks. They want to keep the plan alive, see it through. The realization hits me hard, unexpected yet obvious.

“We’re working with Lianna now,” Aisling states, her voice firm, brooking no argument. “To take down Caius. And after that, the Eclipse falls.”

“Wait, with me?” I ask, skepticism lacing my words. This feels like a trap, but their expressions are earnest, determined.

“Unless you’ve lost your nerve,” Rook chimes in, finally lifting his gaze. There’s a challenge there, something that stirs the fight still left in me.

“Lost my nerve?” I scoff, shaking my head. “Never. I just didn’t peg you lot for suicide runners.”

“Sometimes, you gotta pick the lesser evil,” Nero adds from Gunnar’s side, his voice as calm as ever.

“Then consider me on board,” I say, the words tasting of iron and resolve. Bringing down Caius and the Eclipse—it’s personal, and they know it. Working with Lianna won’t be easy, but if it ends with Caius’s fall, I’ll dance with the devil herself.

“Good.” Aisling’s lips twitch into a semblance of a smile. It’s not warm, but it’s not cold either. It’s… promising.

“Let’s eat then,” Gunnar declares, breaking the last of the tension. “We have a war to plan.”