Making up his mind, Ryker took one last look at his broken wife, hardened his heart, and walked to the door.
Brynleigh’s rattling breaths spurred him onwards. They must’ve done something to her to keep her in this state without succumbing to the bloodlust Fledglings often fell into. Victor liked to work with a witch. Ryker wouldn’t be surprised if she’d used her magic to keep Brynleigh mentally sane so she could endure more torture.
The thought, like many others from the past few weeks, made him see red.
Palming his phone, Ryker unlocked it and navigated to his messages. His fingers slid over the screen as he texted a number he’d memorized years ago.
Representative Challard wasn’t someone he interacted with often, but in this case, she might be the only person capable of helping him.
Once the message was ready, Ryker read it, adjusted a few words, and pressed send.
A moment later, his phone vibrated.
Myrrah
Are you sure?
Ryker
Yes.
He was certain of very few things these days, but this was one of them. Brynleigh would not spend another night in this prison.
Okay. I’ll arrange it.
That was all he needed to hear. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.
Victor Orpheus leaned against the double-sided mirror, a sneer twisting his lips as he glared at Brynleigh through the glass.
Gods, Ryker hated the man. Orpheus was one of the worst soldiers in the entire army. He had climbed through the ranks thanks to his cunning duplicity, and his taste for blood and torture was well-known.
More than one prisoner had mysteriously died after spending time in Orpheus’ interrogation chambers.
But Ryker couldn’t touch Victor. Not right now. He had to focus on getting Brynleigh out of there.
Standing in the doorway, Ryker let authority ripple around him. Orpheus might be a powerful fae, but Ryker was the son of a Representative, and he was born to power. Right now, he let the other fae see exactly how displeased he was by the prisoner’s mistreatment.
“I’m taking her.” Ryker held up his phone, flashing the message from Representative Challard.
He wasn’t asking for permission, nor did he require it.
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 tokill 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.