If she died tonight, would he come looking for her? Would he mourn her just as she’d mourned him?
His face was all she could picture as she inched closer to the end.
Deeper, deeper, deeper, those claws dug.
Even vampires couldn’t survive without a head.
Eventually, Brynleigh’s survival instincts kicked in. She reached up, trying to pull her Maker’s fingers from her neck.
An animalistic snarl ripped out of Jelisette’s chest. She squeezed Brynleigh’s neck so tightly that air was nothing but a dream.
This was it.
Brynleigh closed her eyes and prepared to die.
I love you, Ryker, she shouted into the darkness of her mind.
They weren’t mates and didn’t have a mental connection, but that didn’t matter right now. As her immortal life drew to a close, Brynleigh hoped her fae captain could feel her thinking of him.
Death was cold as it came for Brynleigh with its dark, shadowy arms outstretched.
Her vision clouded, and she repeated the same phrase in her mind.
I love you; I love you; I love you.
If they’d had more time, she would have apologized and told him how sorry she was that she’d broken them in the first place. She would tell him that he had shown her that people could be kind, strong, and loving. She would make sure he knew he’d made her the happiest she’d ever been in her entire life.
Now, it was too late.
Hopefully, when Brynleigh was dead, Ryker would remember that she loved him.
Her eyes fluttered shut, her heart took one final beat, and then?—
The nails were gone.
The shadows cleared.
Brynleigh collapsed in a heap on the crimson carpet, her blood staining the fibers, as Jelisette stepped back.
Holding a hand to her bloody, torn-up throat, Brynleigh greedily inhaled gulps of air. Her skin slowly stitched itself back together. Her fangs ached.
She wasn’t out of harm’s way yet, though. She would never forget the true predator standing in front of her.
Dragging herself to her knees, Brynleigh lifted her gaze.
Cold black eyes gazed mercilessly down at her.
There would be no blood for Brynleigh here, tonight. She wouldn’t even bother asking.
“You want revenge against the Representatives?” Jelisette asked calmly as if she hadn’t been about to tear her progeny’s head from her shoulders.
Keeping her hand against her throat, Brynleigh nodded. The movement sent bolts of pain lancing through her, and she barely held in a whimper.
Long minutes passed.
Jelisette’s punishing, judging stare was unwavering.
Brynleigh’s knees hurt from kneeling on the ground—all of her hurt, to be honest—but she didn’t dare move. She would endure this for hours if it would get her the information she sought.