“No!” Of course, it wasn’t what he wanted. “I want the wife I Chose.”
But apparently, that wasn’t going to happen, and now he was stuck in this deal of his own making.
Several minutes passed in terse silence, the walls seeming to fold in on them, as Ryker wrangled his anger back under control. It was more difficult than ever.
“Listen, Jelisette isn’t in prison because she hasn’t been caught breaking laws,” he said. “There’s nothing directly tying her to the attacks, and we can’t just throw her behind bars for no reason.”
If they could, it would make things a lot easier.
Ryker furled and unfurled his fists. His stomach growled, but he ignored it. This wasn’t the time for hunger.
“We can argue about this for days, but it doesn’t change the fucking facts.”
Long moments passed.
When Brynleigh’s eyes rose once again, they lacked some of the life that used to be in them.
He’d done that. Maybe not on purpose, but he’d let them take her. He hadn’t fought for her, hadn’t looked for her.
This situation was her fault… but it was also his.
By the Obsidian Sands, their situation was so gods-damned complicated.
“What do you need from me?”
She sounded resigned, as if she knew there was only one way this could go.
She was right. Either she agreed to these terms, or Ryker would have to return her to prison.
Not The Pit—never the fucking Pit again, not while he still drew breath into his lungs and his heart still beat, especially now that he realized she wasn’t involved with the rebels—but his influence could only go so far.
He couldn’t fathom the thought of her languishing in any cell, though. Even after everything that happened, he didn’t want to see her in pain.
See? Gods-damned complicated.
Maybe one day, after Ryker’s mother passed the mantle of Representative onto him, he’d have more power, but right now, he’d used every ounce of influence he had to accomplish this.
Doing his job had never been so difficult.
“You need to return to Jelisette and work for her while you uncover information about the rebels,” he said simply. “We need tangible proof of her involvement in the Black Night, and you’re in the perfect position to obtain it.”
She didn’t say anything. She just stared at him.
The weight of Brynleigh’s gaze was heavy, and he swallowed before continuing, “The Black Night doesn’t use regular technology to communicate. That’s why it’s been so gods-damned hard to get a read on them. But they must be using something. Coded letters, books, word of mouth, spies,something. You’re our best shot.”
Their only shot, really.
The grandfather clock ticked away, echoing the pounding of his heart as he waited for her response.
Each second felt longer than the last. He forced himself to maintain an impassive look, although, on the inside, he was begging her to accept the deal.
He couldn’t take her back.
And then, after a lifetime that was probably only a few minutes went by, Brynleighlaughed.
It was just a chuckle at first, a raspy sound, as if her body had forgotten how to make that particular noise, but it kept going. It grew louder until her mirth boomed around the house. She bent in half, gripping the edges of the chair as she wheezed.
There was no humor in the sound. It was cold and lifeless, and the hairs on his arms rose.