The worst was the hurt and betrayal Brynleigh had glimpsed in Ryker’s eyes before he walled off his emotions. The pain she saw would have been enough to rip her heart to shreds if it hadn’t already been broken.
Ryker wasalive.
He was alive and here and…
Nothing was repaired between them. Nothing was better.
If anything, her heart hurt more now than it had before.
Brynleigh hadn’t known it was possible to feel joy and endless agony simultaneously.
And then Ryker spoke.
When she heard his voice, she knew that whatever they’d had was irrevocably destroyed.
He’d built a wall between them, and there would be no climbing over it.
This was her fault. She’d done this to them.
Even after Ryker pulled the knife out of her leg, she remained in the chair. She had so many questions and no answers.
Had he known where she was this whole time? Was he aware she was being tortured daily?
Since Ryker was here, she assumed Zanri was dead. She’d seen the violence in the shifter's eyes, and there was little doubt in her mind that he would’ve done anything he could to carry out Jelisette’s orders.
Rules are rules.
Tears gathered behind Brynleigh’s eyes.
Fuck the rules. Fuck the game. Fuck it all. None of it mattered anymore.
She couldn’t decide which answer would be worse—that Ryker had been aware that she was being tortured and that he’d ignored her or that he’d forgotten about her the moment he let them take her away.
And then he caught her when she almost fell, and none of her questions seemed to matter anymore.
Nothing mattered except for the searing heat of his flesh against hers. How had she not noticed that she was freezing until now?
He was a furnace, and she was made of ice. Bloody, bruised, broken ice.
Brynleigh stared at Ryker’s black T-shirt as he carried her. Such a normal piece of clothing to wear to a place filled with so much pain.
His grip tightened as they neared the door, and Brynleigh bit back a whimper.
He must’ve heard something because he glanced down at her. That brown gaze that had once looked upon her with so much love was hard and emotionless.
“Where…” The word was a breathy rasp. She tried again. “Where are you taking me?”
Rocks were softer than his voice when he answered, “I’m taking you into my custody.”
Custody.
The word clanged like a loud bell in Brynleigh’s mind, reminding her she was a prisoner, not his wife.
Not anymore.
She looked at the hard pinch of his mouth before nodding and closing her eyes.
She understood the underlying meaning of his words.