“Okay. I… I wasn’t at a job tonight,” Brynleigh admitted.
His eyes widened, and anger surged, burning a path through his veins.
She’d lied to him again? He thought they were past that and trying to fix things. This felt awfully like the opposite of that.
It took every ounce of control he had, but he kept his promise not to yell. Somehow.
“What do you mean?”
She stepped towards him, moving slowly as if to give him time to back away. When he didn’t, she put her hand on his. Her touch, always colder than his own, grounded him. She was here, and she was safe.
How bad could it be?
“I sort of… went to a rebel meeting.”
Bad.
This was so gods-damned bad that he couldn’t even wrap his mind around it.
Forgetting his promise, he snarled loudly, “Why the fuck would you do that?”
What in the name of all the gods had she been thinking? This was so far outside the realm of intelligent choices; he hadn’t even consideredthat she might do something like this. Did she agree with the rebels? Did she want to work with them?
A growl rumbled through Ryker’s chest, and Brynleigh’s eyes widened.
“I… I thought it was a good idea. I mean, I still do.” She swallowed and spoke quickly as if she was afraid he might cut her off if she didn’t get it all out. “When Jelisette tried to kill me the night you went to Sandhaven, I told her I wasn’t done. That’s why she let me live. I convinced her I still wanted to take down the Representatives.”
A rushing filled Ryker’s ears, and his heart pounded so loudly, he could barely hear his own thoughts. He’d known Brynleigh had made some questionable choices in the past, but this…
He frowned. “So, she handed you an invitation to a rebel meeting? Just like that?”
People had been trying to infiltrate the Black Night for decades. It couldn’t be that easy.
Brynleigh blanched, breathing in deeply through her nose. “Ah… no.”
Unease churned Ryker’s stomach, and he crossed his arms. “Explain.”
To his wife’s credit, she did exactly that. Pacing a path across the living room floor, she told him everything. Visiting a warehouse, drinking some blood wine, overhearing conversations, and fighting a Death Elf called the Crimson Shade.
By the time Brynleigh wrapped up her story, Ryker was half-inclined to throttle her.
What the hell had she been thinking? Who walked into a rebel meeting not once but twice without backup? It was incredibly foolish. Brave—so fucking brave that it warmed his heart—but also life-threateningly idiotic.
He could’ve lost her.
By the Black Sands, she could’ve died, and he never would have known what happened to her.
“They could’ve killed you,” Ryker growled.
She raised a brow. “True, but they didn’t. I’m alive and in one piece.”
Unbidden, visions of his beautiful wife cut up into pieces and scattered across the Republic flashed through Ryker’s mind. Red tinged his vision, and his nails dug into his flesh. She’d been in mortal danger tonight, and he’d been in a gods-damned bureaucratic meeting.
“Why?” he asked, unable to form but the simplest of words.
Why put herself in that kind of danger? Why not tell him? For that matter, why tell him now? He had so many questions he wasn’t sure which one he was asking.
She seemed to understand, though, even if he didn’t. “For you.”