Rules and laws existed for a reason. Prisons were designed to keepbad people inside, and all signs from the past three weeks pointed to the fact that Ryker’s wife was not a good person.
But the other part of Ryker—the part that fucking loved Brynleigh—was dying at the sight of her in this place of death. That part was overriding his anger, screaming for him to take action and save her.
He thought he understood pain, but nothing could have prepared him for this.
By the Obsidian Sands, he had heard Brynleigh’s confession. He had listened as she admitted to everything, from being a fucking vigilante to plotting to kill him.
Ryker should despise her. He should want her dead and out of his life for good. He should be happy she was so broken.
But he wasn’t happy.
Not. At. All.
Gods damn it all, but he didn’t even hate her. He was angry with her—so fucking angry that his magic was a barely contained storm in his veins—but hate? He didn’t even know if he could, now that he’d given her his heart.
And didn’t that just make him the biggest fucking fool of them all?
“Yes, I did,” Ryker said calmly, falling back on years of military training.
He would not let her see the turmoil that existed beneath his skin, nor would he let her know the depth of his deep-seated pain or the currents of anger coursing through him.
Brynleigh’s black eyes shuttered, and her shoulders slumped. Her head hung low, and matted hair curtained her face. As if she was sorry. As if she wasn’t the one who had wanted to kill him.
Fuck, that anger was coming back.
He forced himself to breathe. He was so busy not screaming that he barely heard her next words.
“I understand,” she said softly, her voice as broken as his heart. “I couldn’t… After our wedding… I changed my…”
She drew in a shuddering breath but still didn’t meet his eyes.
He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t.
After a few minutes, she continued, her words even softer. “In the end, I wasn’t going to…”
Her voice trailed off, and she mumbled something too low for him to hear.
“What?” The word slipped out of him, harsh and booming.
Brynleigh jumped, her arms pulled against the restraints, and then a half-sob, half-sigh left her lips.
“Forget about it,” she whispered. “It doesn’t matter.”
He stared at her, his heart racing as he tried to process her words.
Not matter? How could she say that?
Nothing matteredmorethan this. She had wanted to killhim, for the gods’ sake.
Never, in all his years, had he been this hurt. This angry. This fucking destroyed.
By Brynleigh’s own admission, she had spent years crafting a meticulous plan designed to end Ryker’s life. Shewasa killer.
Not in the way that all vampires had blackness in their hearts. That would have been one thing.
But no.
She truly was a bringer of death. She’d sought to bring about hisdeath.