A vicious, death-kissed snarl ripped through the air.
Instinct had Ryker drawing translucent orbs of water into his palms and readying to fight, even as he realized the snarl came through the headphones.
Then, a pained grunt filtered through the earpiece.
Ryker dissolved his magic, his own gut cramping as if he’d been punched.
It went against his natural predisposition to stay in the vehicle. Everything within him screamed to get up, to do something, tohelp.
He was a protector, through and through.
And Brynleigh needed him.
His heart broke all over again, and his anger was further away than it had been in weeks as he listened to the sounds coming from the safe house.
He flinched when skin slammed against skin.
He drew his own blood, his nails digging into his palms, when there came a muffled cry.
And when a heinous laugh filled his ears, the car handle bent in half from the force of his grip.
Ryker was intimately familiar with the sounds of a fair fight, and this wasn’t one. Brynleigh wasn’t defending herself against her Maker. She was just taking it.
Because of him.
He froze as a muffled cry filled his ears. This was his fault. He put Brynleigh up to this. He made this deal.
If she died, he would never forgive himself.
Suddenly, silence fell. Somehow, it was worse than the sounds of pain from moments before.
Too quick, too quiet.
Was it over? Had he waited too long?
Brynleigh’s words resurfaced in his mind.
She’ll kill me.
What in the name of all the gods had he done? Horror shoved all his earlier anger aside, and his heart pounded as he debated whether he should risk being seen.
Ryker was one second away from throwing caution aside when a whimper filled his ears.
A single noise had never sounded so good.
Alive.
Thank the blessed Obsidian Sands.
Brynleigh was still alive.
The fae captain closed his eyes for the briefest moment, resting his head against the seat.
He didn’t want Brynleigh to die. Not at her Maker’s hands. Not at Victor’s hands. Not at anyone’s hands.
Even though she’d wanted to kill him, even though he was still so furious with her that at times he could barely breathe, he needed her to live.
“What is rule number ten?” Jelisette asked.