Brynleigh might be playing the part of the dutiful progeny out to destroy the Representatives, but she would always remember that her Maker had lied to her and left her in prison to rot.
Jelisette moved her gaze as she came to stand in front of the group, but Brynleigh didn’t relax. She wouldn’t until she was back home with Ryker.
“Welcome, brethren.” Dimitri stood in front of the assembly, his stance relaxed and his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. “I’m glad so many of you could make it. Tonight, our time is short. I won’t keep us waiting with pleasantries. We?—”
A chair was shoved back in the second row.
A woman stood, her rounded ears and average stature speaking to her human heritage. “Seriously, Dimitri? You’re not going to address the fucking elephant in the room?”
The werewolf canted his head in a predatory manner, and his orange eyes glowed. “What elephant are you referring to, Mercy?”
Mercy swung on her heel and pointed at Brynleigh. “That one. It’s big, blonde, and has black batwings.”
Fucking hell. So much for flying under the radar. How come Brynleigh kept attracting the attention of mean girls? First, Valentina Rose, the bitchy fire fae from the Choosing. Now, this human. She was over it.
“That’s a vampire, not an elephant,” Dimitri said calmly.
“Fuck off,” Mercy snarled. “You know what I mean. She’s marriedto a gods-damnedWaterborn. I watched her wedding on the Choosing. What in the name of all the gods is she doing here?”
Mercy’s voice had risen to a shrill shriek. It was like she broke the spell because the earlier quiet disappeared. Murmurs of agreement rose from the others, and Brynleigh shifted in her seat.
Had she miscalculated, coming here alone? It wasn’t as though she’d forgotten that the Choosing had been broadcast to the entire Republic, but she had been a little too busy to consider all the potential ramifications.
Discontent rose, and her stomach twisted tighter and tighter. Her shadows’ throb was incessant, as though they were saying, “I told you so.”
Maybe they’d been right.
Faces painted in hatred turned and sneered at Brynleigh. More people stood—some humans, a fae, and an elf—and all of them shouted their discontent at her presence. No one seemed to care that she had been here before, but maybe the fight club was different.
Tension ratcheted up, up, up, until Brynleigh’s skin felt too tight for her bones. The voices echoed off the steel walls like clanging cymbals. Her heart was a horse galloping in her chest. She kept her wings out and clenched her fists. Would she have to fight her way out of here?
Dimitri didn’t say anything as the rebels spewed their venomous anger for several minutes.
“She’s with me.” Jelisette stepped forward, her quiet words steeped with power. Shadows hung lazily around her hands, and her black gaze met Brynleigh’s. “My progeny harbors a hatred for the Representatives and their oppressive ways, just like the rest of you.”
That was not true, but Brynleigh had enough preservation instincts to keep that to herself.
Most of the others sat back down, but Mercy remained on her feet.
“She might as wellbea Representative,” the human sneered. “Those fucking bastards killed my husband and children! Do you expect me to work with the likes of her?”
As if the rebels hadn’t just blown up a school. Fucking hypocrites.
“Yes.” An Alpha command was laced through Dimitri’s voice, and even though Brynleigh wasn’t a werewolf, she recognized the power inhis words. “That’s exactly what I expect. You may not trust her, but you know her Maker.”
He gestured to Jelisette, who stood to his right.
The werewolf continued, “For decades, Jelisette de la Point has worked tirelessly for our cause. Because of her endless efforts, we have satellite groups in each of the five regions. Without her, we never would’ve been able to accomplish half the things we have.”
Mercy gripped the back of the chair in front of her. “So, you speak for her? After what Representatives did to Eme?—”
In a movement too quick for even Brynleigh to track, Jelisette crossed the room. Her hand circled Mercy’s throat.
“Do. Not. Fucking. Say. His. Name.”
Shadows flooded the warehouse, and Mercy clawed at the hand holding her in the air. It was a useless endeavor. What was a measly, weak human against an almost thousand-year-old enraged vampire?
Mercy squeaked like a terrified mouse, and tears ran down her cheeks.