As Ryker drove away from the Hub, he spoke quietly, telling River that Marlowe and Brynleigh were waiting for them at his house. Tears welled as River stared out the rearview mirror, watching as Nikhail got smaller and smaller, and knew that the night they’d shared would be the only one they ever had.
The air fae had meant every word he’d said, and that was why River would have to be the one to keep him away. He wanted to pick up her pieces, but broken pieces were sharp. Perilous.
If he were close to her, he risked being ruined by her. Destroyed. It would be an accident, but an accidental death was still a death.
And that was unacceptable.
Now more than ever, River had to keep her distance from Nikhail. She would never get to hear him call her his little storm again, never get to fall asleep in his arms and wake up feeling refreshed and ready for the day, never get to know what it would be like to be loved by him.
All because she had proven, once and for all, that she was the Cursed One, and there would be no calming her storm.
Twice, her magic had gotten control of her.
Twice, she’d broken.
There would not be a third time.
The engine cutoff as Ryker parked beside the farmhouse he and Brynleigh owned. The lack of noise was somehow louder than the gentle rumble that had accompanied them here.
The drive had been silent, which River had been grateful for. Her thoughts were heavy, and the clouds had gotten darker with every mile that existed between her and Nikhail.
River spent the ride with her legs on the seat and her arms wrapped around them. Now, she rested her chin on her knees, staring at her brother.
The car was off, but neither of them had moved.
Ryker’s hands were back on the steering wheel, and tension radiated through him. The soft glow of the garage light illuminated the otherwise dark night, casting Ryker’s face in shadows.
“I hate that you’re wearing those gods-damned things,” he said roughly, breaking the silence between them.
River frowned, running a hand over the glistening black shackles peeking out from beneath her sleeves. “I know you do.”
“We can return to the Hub and get the keys. They’d be off in less than an hour.” He met her gaze. “I don’t mind driving back.”
Ryker was in pain because of River. She hated that he was hurting, hated that she was making things worse for the one remaining family member who loved her.
But she hated the idea of breaking again even more. Calling a third storm, losing control for a third time, would surely kill her.
Then, Ryker really would be alone.
He continued. “Surely, we can find another way?—”
“No, there isn’t. I need to keep them on.”
His knuckles turned white on the wheel. “But the risks?—”
“Are worth it.”
River was already cursed.
Taking the prohiberis off would merely amplify the problems she already had. Yes, she was empty. Yes, a gaping canyon existed in her chest where her magic should’ve been. Yes, there was the chance that wearing the manacles would have a negative effect on her mental health.
But at least no one was dying right now. No one was drowning because of her.
That was the most important thing.
Cursed One. Cursed One. Cursed One.
The words paired with the beating of her heart until they were all she could hear. All she could feel.