She didn’t fight him as he rose and tugged her away from the dead woman.
It was only then that Ryker took in the scene around them.
Jelisette wasn’t the only one Death had visited.
Of the nine captive men from the Choosing, seven were standing. All were injured. Only one member of the Black Night remained alive, a man Therian was pinning to the ground. The dragon shifter had a gun pointed at the rebel’s head.
Therian met Ryker’s eye, and the two men communicated silently.
The dragon shifter nodded. Hauling the rebel to his feet, he ordered, “Get us the fuck out of here, now.”
Exhaustion had wovenitself into the very fabric of Ryker’s being. An entire day had passed since their rag-tag group had stumbled out of the rebels’ compound, bloody, bruised, and broken…
But alive.
Thank the Blessed Black Sands for that.
Ryker hadn’t released Brynleigh’s hand. Not as they staggered out of the building, not while they debriefed with the backup Nikhail had called, who had just gotten to the scene, and not even when they were taken to the army base.
He wasn’t sure he could ever let go of his wife again. He’d come so close to losing her.
As soon as they arrived on the base, soldiers cut off their prohiberis cuffs.
A witch came in and healed Ryker’s shoulder and arm. The process was unpleasant, but the break was set and healing.
Then, the questioning began. Representatives, military personnel,and even the Chancellor filtered through the rooms where they were keeping the survivors.
There were so many questions—too many, even for Ryker.
What happened?
How were you taken?
Who was there?
And then the questions got increasingly personal.
Tell us about the Black Night.
You got your wife out of The Pit. Why?
Explain the deal you made with Myrrah Challard.
How did you come to be involved with the rebels?
Tell us about Horizon.
The questions were never-ending. Just when he thought they’d be done, someone else walked in. Ryker was over this.
It wasn’t until they’d started directing questions at Brynleigh that Ryker snapped, though.
General Whitecliff, an Earth Elf who’d served in the army for decades, sat across from the couple. Her fiery hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and she looked every bit the fierce soldier Ryker had heard her to be. Perhaps at another time, he’d enjoy speaking with the elf, but seeing as how she was interrogating them—because that’s what this had fucking become—he was in no mood for pleasantries.
“Mrs. Waterborn, I need you to detail your role in this for me again.” General Whitecliff’s voice brokered no room for discussion.
Brynleigh sighed. This was the third time she’d been asked this question. “As I’ve already told your colleagues, I don’t have a role in this. I was helping you.”
The Earth Elf tilted her head, and her emerald eyes gleamed. “Is that so?”