His gut churned, and he shook his head. He didn’t want to go down this path, didn’t want to think about these things. It wasn’t that he was unaware of the consequences.
No, the problem was Ryker was all too aware of them. He didn’t need any help conjuring this specificscenario because he wasn’t some random citizen. He understood the inner workings of the Republic’s judicial system.
“Tell me, Ryker,” his wife whispered. “What would’ve happened?”
His heart beat was so loud that he could barely hear his thoughts.He knew what she wanted him to say. The truth was, he’d always known what would’ve happened to River had their mother not been able to help with the fallout from the Incident.
But to know something and to speak it into existence were two very different things.
The words rose in his throat. They were on the tip of his tongue but got stuck.
He didn’t want to say them.
Six years ago, he had convinced himself that everything he did was for River’s own good—and he still believed that. He had made reparations for the Incident as best he could. He spent hours and hours training River so nothing like this would ever happen again. He poured an indecent sum of money into flood relief and storm prevention.
He did his fucking best to help fix things.
But this?
He’d never gone down this path. Never allowed himself to think about the way things might have turned out had their mother not been a Representative.
Brynleigh was still silently staring at him, still waiting for him to answer.
His chest squeezed tighter and tighter. The walls in the apartment were closing in on him. His heart galloped in his chest. He raked his hand through his damp hair, but it did little to quell the unease that had taken up residence deep within him.
That onyx gaze, filled with darkness, shadows, and the night itself, held his as minutes dragged on.
Eventually, Ryker couldn’t take the weight of her stare anymore.
“I know what would’ve happened to her,” he said gruffly.
Brynleigh’s gaze softened further. “Tell me.”
He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to confront this truth. And yet, he couldn’t stop the words from slipping from his lips.
“They would’ve fucking prosecuted her for her crimes,” he half-whispered, half-hissed, his heart thundering. “Is that what you wanted me to say? Do you want me to admit that being related to a Representative is the only reason River isn’t rotting in a gods-damned prohiberis-lined cell?”
His nostrils flared, and he balled his fists. “Do you want me to say that my baby sister, who was barely more than a fuckingchild, is only free because of our mother’s influence?”
Every. Word. Hurt.
Every syllable made his chest ache.
Drawing breath was like breathing shards of glassy death.
He moved closer to Brynleigh, looming over her. Her wings spread behind her, flaring as he pressed her against the wall.
“You’re upset,” she whispered.
“Of course I am!”
She forced this out of him.
His water magic was a swirling storm churning in his veins, moments away from bursting like a geyser out of him. The temperature dropped, and he flexed his fingers.
Mere inches separated them.
His chest heaved, and his arms bracketed the wall above Brynleigh’s head. He looked down at her.