“There now,” the man on the screen said after a few minutes had passed. “It seems like I have your attention. Very good. Now that you’re listening, I have some demands.”
“Demands?” One of the soldiers standing near the screen scoffed. “You don’t get to make demands. How do we know this isn’t a hoax? You could just be playing a game with us.”
Brynleigh didn’t think interrupting the rebel was wise, but she wasn’t a trained soldier.
“I get it. You want proof. That’s fair.” The rebel’s eyes gleamed. He raised a gloved hand and motioned to a person off-camera. “Hit the lights.”
A bulb flickered above the masked man, casting faint yellow rays over the space. It wasn’t bright, but it was enough.
Isvana help them all, but it was fucking enough.
Screams rose once again. Esme, who had seemed so fierce the first night of the Choosing, fainted.
Even Valentina cried out in alarm.
Brynleigh’s heart caught in her throat. Black spots filled her vision. Tighter, tighter, tighter, her lungs squeezed. Her fangs ached, and shadows slipped from her hands.
By all the gods, this was worse than her most terrifying nightmares.
“Here’s yourproof.” The rebel’s eyes hardened, and he stepped to the side.
Hallie screamed, “Therian!”
Eleven men were huddled together, all on their knees. Their arms were tied behind their backs. Brown canvas sacks covered their faces. Prohiberis cuffs were locked around their hands and feet. Clothes were torn and dirty.
Several other masked men surrounded them, each holding impressive-looking guns that could probably kill someone in one shot.
It took Brynleigh two seconds to find Ryker.
He was in the middle of the group, hooded like the rest, but it didn’t matter. She would recognize his form anywhere. Those hands that held her close. His arms. He was still wearing his running gear, for the gods’ sake.
Momentary worry flashed through Brynleigh’s head for Marlowe, but she’d have to deal with that later.
Her gaze snagged on the red trail of blood on Ryker’s shirt. It wasn’t enough to be a severe injury, especially with his fae healing, but still.
Someone hadhurthim and made him bleed.
Her fangs burned, and she clenched her fists. She would kill them for this.
He washers.
Brynleigh was so distracted by the bloody shirt that it took her a moment to realize the masked man had returned. His eyes were stony and filled withviolence.
“You’ve gotten what you asked for,” he snarled. “Now it’s my turn. If you wish to see these men alive, Chancellor Ignatia Rose will announce tonight that she is dismantling the Representative government and stepping down from her position, effective immediately.”
“I. Will. Not.” The Chancellor spoke with confidence.
Brynleigh hadn’t even realized the head of the Republic was on stage.
Four broad-shouldered bodyguards flanked the Chancellor as she strode towards the screen. Her emerald wide-legged pantsuit looked expertly tailored as it hugged her fae form. Black heels gave her several inches over most of the others, clicking as she walked.
“We do not negotiate with people like you,” the Chancellor continued.
Her voice was like ice. She spoke in a measured, quiet tone, and power was woven through every word.
Brynleigh’s stomach bottomed out.
“People like me? I know who you are,Ignatia.” The rebel hissed her name as if there was something personal between them. “What you and your inner circle have done in the name of the Representatives. The people of this continent have suffered long enough beneath your ‘care.’ It’s time for a change of pace.”