Perhaps sensing that his interrogation had gone too far, Victor did not push the captain. Instead, he simply pulled something out of his pocket, put his hand between them, and said, “Good luck.”
Ryker’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Victor’s extended hand.Disgust twisted his insides, and his primal instincts had him wanting to kill the other man for touching what was his. He buried those instincts, though.
This needed to be quick and simple.
Maintaining his emotionless mask, Ryker slid his hand into the other fae’s. Victor’s palm was cold, and it took everything Ryker had not to shiver.
“Thanks.” Ryker closed his fist around the metal key Victor had slipped him.
Without sparing the other fae another glance, Ryker grabbed a small bag of blood from the cooler by the door and stepped back into the cell.
Black, pain-filled eyes rose and met his.
For a single moment, it was like he and Brynleigh were back at the Masked Ball.
Two souls, already connected, but seeing each other for the first time.
Everything else faded away. The dungeon, the silver blade, the blood, even the fae behind the glass.
For a moment, it was just the two of them.
For a moment, it was good.
Then, somewhere in the bowels of the dungeon, someone screamed.
The moment shattered like a broken window.
Brynleigh inhaled sharply, and a tear rolled down her cheek before she closed her eyes.
She dared cry after she planned to murder him? How fucking hypocritical. He was the one she’d wanted to kill, yet he wasn’t crying.
Ryker was just… angry. With himself. With her. With the world.
Everything they’d shared was gone. Their moments were in the past. Now, they were just two broken people.
With that depressing thought in mind, he slowly approachedthe chair. Her eyes opened, and her lips parted, but she was silent. Maybe that was better.
Ryker’s heart leaped as he drew near, but he pointedly ignored that feeling. It had no place here.
He uncapped the blood, and her eyes followed him greedily.
It wasn’t a lot, and it certainly wouldn’t be enough to fix everything that had been done to her, but he didn’t want her to faint or worse before he got her out.
Ryker went to hand the blood to Brynleigh when he realized her hands were still bound. Wondering exactly how he’d ended up here, offering his tortured, murderous wife blood, he raised the drink to her mouth.
Her chapped lips closed around the top, and in under a minute, she’d sucked the bag dry. A slight touch of color returned to her cheeks.
Just enough to remind him she was still alive.
“I… thank you,” she breathed.
He grunted in response. He didn’t give her the blood to be kind. It was a precautionary measure. That was it.
Reaching over, he yanked the silver blade out of her leg. The situation was eerily similar to when he’d pulled the bullet out of her only weeks ago, and a shudder ran through him as he threw the knife away.
Brynleigh hitched a breath, but Ryker didn’t dare meet her gaze. Not again.
He wasn’t sure if he’d see a dream or a nightmare within the depth of her eyes, but either way, he wasn’t ready.