When Ryker asked if she could stand, Brynleigh barely stopped herself from laughing. Standing was the least of her problems. Breathing through the pain was nearly impossible.
After being surrounded by prohiberis for so long, she was nothing but a mortal suffering from endless torture.
Emilia, the witch, had done something to Brynleigh. She must have used her magic to stop the adverse effects of being a Fledgling vampire and going without blood for so long.
Brynleigh had no idea witches could be so powerful, but Emilia had already proven herself not to be a normal witch. Usually, staving off bloodlust and not losing hermind would’ve been a positive thing, but in this case, it just meant the torture could keep going and going.
Even now that Ryker had removed the prohiberis and pulled out the knife, Brynleigh wasn’t healing. That didn’t surprise her. Nothing would surprise her anymore.
She had too many injuries, she was too broken, and she hadn’t had nearly enough blood.
Her shadows were gone, and she couldn’t call upon her wings.
The physical pain wasn’t the worst of it, though. She could handle being in pain. She’d been injured countless times before.
No.
The worst was the hurt and betrayal Brynleigh had glimpsed in Ryker’s eyes before he walled off his emotions. The pain she saw would have been enough to rip her heart to shreds if it hadn’t already been broken.
Ryker wasalive.
He was alive and here and…
Nothing was repaired between them. Nothing was better.
If anything, her heart hurt more now than it had before.
Brynleigh hadn’t known it was possible to feel joy and endless agony simultaneously.
And then Ryker spoke.
When she heard his voice, she knew that whatever they’d had was irrevocably destroyed.
He’d built a wall between them, and there would be no climbing over it.
This was her fault. She’d done this to them.
Even after Ryker pulled the knife out of her leg, she remained in the chair. She had so many questions and no answers.
Had he known where she was this whole time? Was he aware she was being tortured daily?
Since Ryker was here, she assumed Zanri was dead. She’d seen the violence in the shifter's eyes, and there was little doubt in her mind that he would’ve done anything he could to carry out Jelisette’s orders.
Rules are rules.
Tears gathered behind Brynleigh’s eyes.
Fuck the rules. Fuck the game. Fuck it all. None of it mattered anymore.
She couldn’t decide which answer would be worse—that Ryker had been aware that she was being tortured and that he’d ignored her or that he’d forgotten about her the moment he let them take her away.
And then he caught her when she almost fell, and none of her questions seemed to matter anymore.
Nothing mattered except for the searing heat of his flesh against hers. How had she not noticed that she was freezing until now?
He was a furnace, and she was made of ice. Bloody, bruised, broken ice.
Brynleigh stared at Ryker’s black T-shirt as he carried her. Such a normal piece of clothing to wear to a place filled with so much pain.