Her death would come at his hands.
Brynleigh was grateful for that small mercy. It certainly wasn’t one she deserved. They could’ve let her rot in this prison for an eternity.
Death would be a reprieve from such an awful existence.
It made sense, in a way.
She’d confessed everything and told them all she knew. There were no more secrets, no more lies.
Maybe this time, death would bring her peace.
“Okay,” Brynleigh whispered.
Resigned to her fate, she kept her eyes closed and let her head loll back into the crook of Ryker’s arm.
She would find refuge in his embrace one last time before he killed her. And then, she would cling to the memories of their wedding and those fleeting happy days as her life ended.
There was little doubt in Brynleigh’s mind that Ryker would kill her slowly. She was deserving of such a death.
She had devoted her immortal life to learning the art of revenge and murder. Her heart was black, and her hands were stained crimson with the blood of others.
No amount of soap could remove the marks of death from her soul.
For six years, Brynleigh had allowed Jelisette to twist her into a person that her sister, Sarai, would never recognize.
And after all that hard work and planning, what did Brynleigh have to show for it?
A broken heart and a husband who hated her.
She’d been used, deceived, and betrayed. Now, she was done. She’d failed her task, and she would enter death’s cold embrace willingly.
Heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway, but Brynleigh didn’t open her eyes.
“This is a bad idea, Captain,” a gruff man said. It was a new voice, one she hadn’t heard before.
“I’m taking her,” Ryker growled. “Get out of my way. This is my decision.”
Before she’d learned the truth of who caused the storm in Chavin, Brynleigh would’ve been happy to hear the threat of violence in the captain’s voice. It would have proved that Ryker deserved what she’d planned. She would’ve latched onto it, shoving away all the feelings she’d developed over the course of the Choosing.
But now it just fed her numbness.
Ryker was angry, and that was fine. He had every right to feel that way.
All that Brynleigh could do was hope that he wouldn’t drag out her death too long.
She was tired. So, so tired.
There was a shuffling and then a feminine huff. “Chancellor Rose won’t be happy about this. You think you can hide behind your mother’s name?”
Brynleigh stiffened at that voice. Emilia was the worst of the three tormentors, and there was something wholly wrong about the witch.
Tension tightened Brynleigh’s shoulders and stole her breath. She hated Emilia and the way her body reacted to her. Brynleigh’s insides churned, expecting an influx of pain.
Before her imprisonment, Brynleigh would’ve fought back. She would’ve killed the witch without thinking twice about it.
But now?
She didn’t even open her eyes.