Therian inclined his head and disappeared from view.
“Release River. She didn’t do anything to you.” Nikhail was pleading with the man, but he didn’t care. He’d do anything, say anything, to get River out of this situation. “Your quarrel is not with her.”
The moment the words were out of Nikhail’s mouth, he knew they were the wrong ones.
“The fuck it’s not. She is a Waterborn. Modern royalty, for all intents and purposes. She, and everyone like her, live like kingsand queens while the rest of us suffer and die!” Harringdale snarled.
“And for what? So the rich can remain in power?” he sneered. “It’s disgusting. She may not have written the laws that bred inequality in this country, but she has undoubtedly benefited from them.”
Harringdale’s grip shifted. He released River’s mouth, one hand fisting her hair and pulling her chin up to look at him. His other hand, which was clutching her fingers, holding them against her chest, moved. His claws were angled right over her heart, the threat clear.
He snarled, “Isn’t that right,Princess?”
Hearing this man use the same nickname Nikhail used for River was wrong on so many levels. Fury and fear consumed every part of Nikhail, and he could barely remember what it felt like to be calm.
His military training, which until this point had been second nature, was escaping him.
All he could think about, all he could focus on, was River.
Nothing else mattered. Not his orders, not the people behind him, not even the Chancellor, though she would certainly have something to say about this.
River’s gaze met his, and he could barely breathe.
“It’s okay, Nik,” she said quietly.
How could she say that? This was as far from okay as things could get.
“No, it isn’t.” Less than a dozen feet separated him from the woman he loved, yet Nikhail knew that if he moved, bargaining chip or not, Harringdale would rip River’s beating heart out of her chest.
“Yes, it is.” Her voice was soft, and those eyes that he loved so much, the ones that had haunted him for years, implored him to understand something.
He had no idea what she was trying to convey.
Was River asking him to stand by and watch as Harringdale took her life? Because fuck that. He refused to be a bystander to River’s death.
“I love you, Nikhail,” she said, her gaze never wavering. “No matter what happens, remember that. Falling in love with you is the best thing I’ve ever done.”
No.
No.
That sounded far too much like a goodbye for Nikhail’s liking. And that was gods-damned unacceptable. He and River had worked way too hard and had overcome far too many obstacles and waded through too much darkness for things to end like this.
Someone behind him sucked in a breath.
Harringdale’s face twisted into a sneer. “Love. What a fucking joke.” The rebel leader adjusted his hold once again, his fingers digging further into River’s chest, and she gasped. “Love won’t save you now, little girl. Nothing will, except for the Chancellor.”
Despite being restrained, River’s fingers fluttered against her chest. The movement was nearly imperceptible, and if Nikhail hadn’t spent years watching River and memorizing her every movement, he might’ve missed it.
But he didn’t.
It was then that Nikhail realized that maybe River wasn’t saying goodbye. Maybe she hadn’t given up.
Maybe…
Her fingers moved again. Twisted.
This time, Harringdale noticed. A low growl ripped from his chest. “What are you…”