Offer

[Rowan's pov]

I was moving before Alicia even finished speaking, my body reacting faster than my thoughts. Who the hell could it be? Angels? Or something worse?

My mind raced through possibilities as I reached the front door, every scenario twisting into something darker. Then—knock, knock.

I stilled.

Someone was knocking. That ruled out the angels. They didn't knock.

I inhaled deeply, casting a glance around the room. The others stood tense, weapons in hand, eyes sharp with the kind of wariness that came from too many close calls. I hoped—really hoped—it wouldn't come to that today.

Fingers tightening around the hilt of my dagger, I pulled the door open in one swift motion, bracing myself for whatever waited on the other side.

But what I saw made me falter.

Guards.

My pulse hammered in my ears as I took them in, their presence stark against the backdrop of the slums. Was this about yesterday? Had word already spread?

I clenched my jaw, forcing my expression into something unreadable.

"Can I help you?" I asked, voice steady despite the weight pressing down on my chest.

Before a single word was spoken, I felt it—a crushing pressure, an unseen force heavy enough to drive most people to their knees.

It was the kind of presence that demanded submission, that curled around the spine like invisible chains. But I stayed standing.

Then I saw him.

Draped in a uniform that gleamed under the sunlight, he walked with the kind of confidence that only came from true power.

His very existence screamed authority, a force beyond anything I had faced before. Stronger than Talia—by a long shot.

He moved toward me, effortless, each step deliberate. My instincts screamed at me to act, to prepare for something, anything.

But when his eyes met mine, sharp and piercing, something in me shifted. Without realizing it, my body stepped aside, making way for him. Not out of fear. Not entirely.

A silent acknowledgment passed between us before he strode past, the guards close behind, their presence filling the space with unspoken tension.

I exhaled slowly. This was going to be a problem. 

I flicked my gaze toward my crew, gauging their reactions. They weren't faring much better. Their bodies remained tense, their eyes darting between me and the imposing figure before us, silently pleading for answers I didn't have.

The only reassurance I could offer was a single, firm nod. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.

Then, as abruptly as it came, the suffocating pressure lifted. Like the tide retreating after a violent storm, the air felt breathable again, though the unease still clung to our skin.

The man moved with calculated ease, dragging a stool toward him and lowering himself onto it as though he had sat there a hundred times before—as though this place already belonged to him.

Silence settled over the room like a weighted shroud, thick and expectant. My instincts screamed at me to tread carefully, but hesitation wouldn't serve me here. I took a slow breath, then spoke.

"So… what brings a man like you to a place like this?" My voice was steady, but there was an edge to it, a quiet steel beneath the words.

He studied me, his expression unreadable. Then, with an almost amused air, he finally spoke.

"The NightViper… just as unyielding as the rumors say." His lips curled slightly before his voice dipped into something heavier. "But you've stepped over a line, one you shouldn't have."

The weight of his words lingered, pressing down on the room like a blade hovering just above my throat. I let the silence stretch, let it breathe between us.

A measured pause—long enough to make it seem like I was considering my response, but not so long that it betrayed uncertainty.

Then, I spoke. Carefully. Playing dumb might be the worst mistake I ever made, but it was better than admitting guilt outright.

"I'm afraid I don't recall doing anything that would warrant the attention of the city," I said, my voice carrying just the right balance of feigned ignorance and quiet defiance.

His gaze didn't waver. He watched me the way a predator watches its prey—still, patient, waiting for the right moment to strike. The silence between us deepened, thick and expectant.

Then, finally, he broke it.

"Viper," he said, his tone edged with something sharp, something almost amused. "Do you really think the city hasn't noticed this little charade you've been running out here?"

He leaned forward slightly, pausing, measuring me. Waiting for a flicker of reaction, a slip of emotion. But I gave him nothing. Not yet.

He sat there, unmoving, his stare drilling into me like he had all the time in the world. So that was his game—draw this out, make me sweat. Fine. Two could play at that.

I exhaled slowly, keeping my voice steady, controlled. "We've just been surviving by the rules Tetron put in place," I said, meeting his gaze without flinching. A statement, not a challenge. Firm, but not reckless.

A slow, almost lazy nod. "Alright," he murmured, his voice deceptively casual. "Let's get one thing straight. I don't give a damn about the thirty dead rats."

A pause. A deliberate one.

The weight in the room shifted, thickened. The air felt tighter, like it was pressing against my ribs.

"What I do care about," he continued, voice edged with something dangerous, "is what you left behind. The bodies. Just sitting there, rotting." He tilted his head slightly, like he was studying something foul. "Are you insane? Do you have any idea what that much blood attracts?"

He didn't wait for an answer.

"That's right—the beasts. And do you know what that means for us?" His voice sharpened, cutting through the heavy silence like a knife.

"It means we have to waste resources—our resources—to keep them out. All because your little band of misfits decided that now was the perfect time for a massacre."

His words settled over the room like a gathering storm, thick with unspoken threats. I inhaled sharply, steadying my thoughts. So it had come to this. The moment where lines were drawn, and choices had to be made. What now?

But even as the weight of the situation pressed down on me, the sparks of an idea began to flicker. A different path, a third option. One he hadn't accounted for.

Before I could speak, his voice cut through the silence again, smooth but edged with finality.

"So, let me tell you how this is going to go." He leaned forward slightly, the flickering lantern light casting shadows across his face.

"You're going to drop this, walk away, and I'll have a little chat with Victor to make sure he does the same."

That was it, then. An ultimatum. Accept his terms, or face the alternative—one I had no doubt would end in blood. But he underestimated me.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. "You know," I murmured, voice casual, but deliberately placed, "I've heard Victor's been quite the thorn in the city's side lately."

The air shifted, the temperature plummeting. A flicker of something—recognition? Annoyance?—flashed in his eyes, but his expression remained cold, unreadable.

His gaze traced my every movement, sharp, assessing. He didn't speak. Good. That meant I was onto something.

I leaned back slightly, exuding a confidence I didn't quite feel, but had long since mastered faking. "I imagine that's been quite the headache for you," I added, letting the words settle, waiting for the crack, the tell, anything. Still, he remained silent. Watching. Waiting.

I only hoped I was right to keep pushing.

"Go on, Viper." His voice was smooth, but laced with quiet menace. "But think really hard before you speak."

I gave a slow nod, my mind racing through possibilities, weighing risks against rewards. There was only one way out of this that didn't leave me in a shallow grave.

I had to make him want what I was offering more than he wanted my head.

I took a breath and spoke. "How about this—rather than letting this drag on in some drawn-out war of attrition, I make sure the Angels never trouble anyone again?"

I kept my tone steady, measured, watching his face for any sign of interest.

For a moment, nothing. Then, just barely, I caught it—a flicker of something in his eyes. Curiosity.

I pushed forward. "One final battle. All against all. No more skirmishes, no more back-and-forth. We settle this in one decisive sweep."

My words hung between us, the weight of the offer pressing into the silence.

Still, he didn't speak. So I sweetened the deal. "The battlefield?" I tilted my head slightly, like the thought had just occurred to me.

"That ruined camp, the one that lunatic leveled five years ago. It's far from the city—isolated. No collateral damage. And when it's over?" I met his gaze, unwavering. "I'll see to it personally that every last body is burned."

At the mention of that lunatic's name, I saw it—the slight, involuntary tightening of his shoulders before he forced himself to relax. Interesting. So Gideon was stronger than him. That was something to remember.

He exhaled slowly, like he was weighing his next words. Then, finally, he spoke.

"And you really think you can take down the Angels? With what? The Spiders?" He let out a short, humorless chuckle. "Don't make me laugh. Even if you somehow managed it, that man—Victor—he was once strong enough to stand against me in his prime."

In his prime.

The words echoed in my mind, shifting the pieces of the game. That meant Victor wasn't at his full strength anymore. He was weaker. At least weaker than the man sitting in front of me.

I didn't hesitate. "You'll have to trust me on that one." My voice was steady, unwavering, carrying the weight of the gamble I was taking. "My reach extends far beyond the Spiders. You think I'd put my own head on the line if I wasn't certain?"

He leaned back slightly, studying me with something between skepticism and mild amusement. "Trust you?" His lips curled, something almost like a smirk. "That won't happen, snake."

Fair enough. I hadn't expected it to.

"But," he continued, his voice lowering, thick with something unreadable, "your offer is... interesting."

A pause. The kind that makes the air feel heavier, like the room itself is bracing for impact.

Then, finally, he gave a slow nod.

"You have one chance." His eyes locked onto mine, dark and cold as a blade pressed to the throat. "Don't fuck it up."

He stood, the scrape of the stool against the floor sending a sharp note through the tension. "The city will set up the meeting."

A beat of silence.

"You'll know when the time is right."

And just like that, the game was in motion. The door had barely shut behind them, the echo of their departure still hanging in the air, when I felt the weight of a dozen unspoken questions pressing down on me. My crew stood in a loose circle, their expressions a mix of uncertainty and expectation.

Then, cutting through the silence like a blade, came Tobias's voice.

"What now?"

He didn't sound doubtful. Just wary. Calculating. Like a man standing at the edge of a cliff, waiting to see if I was about to jump—or if I had wings.

I met his gaze, then looked around at the others. Talia, arms crossed, face unreadable. Alicia, tense but silent. The rest of them waiting, caught between trust and the knowledge that things were about to change.

I exhaled, letting the weight of it all settle in my chest before speaking.

"Now we prepare." My voice was steady, even as the storm brewed inside me. "Come with me. We're going to see Valerie."

No one questioned it. They just moved. And as we stepped out into the cold, I could feel it—like the air before a storm. The beginning of something that couldn't be undone.