2. Death Would Bring her Peace

CHAPTER 2

Death Would Bring her Peace

A few minutes ago

Brynleigh had been a fool to think she would never break under her tormenters' hands.

It turned out that all it took was three weeks of continuous torture to reduce her from a functioning vampire to nothing but a physical embodiment of pain.

There wasn't a single part of her that didn't hurt. Her soul, her body, and her heart were all so broken and bruised that she couldn't remember what life had been like before everything ached.

When Ryker asked if she could stand, Brynleigh barely stopped herself from laughing. Standing was the least of her problems. Breathing through the pain was nearly impossible.

After being surrounded by prohiberis for so long, she was nothing but a mortal suffering from endless torture.

Emilia, the witch, had done something to Brynleigh. She must have used her magic to stop the adverse effects of being a Fledgling vampire and going without blood for so long.

Brynleigh had no idea witches could be so powerful, but Emilia had already proven herself not to be a normal witch. Usually, staving off bloodlust and not losing her mind would've been a positive thing, but in this case, it just meant the torture could keep going and going.

Even now that Ryker had removed the prohiberis and pulled out the knife, Brynleigh wasn't healing. That didn't surprise her. Nothing would surprise her anymore.

She had too many injuries, she was too broken, and she hadn't had nearly enough blood.

Her shadows were gone, and she couldn't call upon her wings.

The physical pain wasn't the worst of it, though. She could handle being in pain. She'd been injured countless times before.

No.

The worst was the hurt and betrayal Brynleigh had glimpsed in Ryker's eyes before he walled off his emotions. The pain she saw would have been enough to rip her heart to shreds if it hadn't already been broken.

Ryker was alive .

He was alive and here and…

Nothing was repaired between them. Nothing was better.

If anything, her heart hurt more now than it had before.

Brynleigh hadn't known it was possible to feel joy and endless agony simultaneously.

And then Ryker spoke.

When she heard his voice, she knew that whatever they'd had was irrevocably destroyed.

He'd built a wall between them, and there would be no climbing over it.

This was her fault. She'd done this to them.

Even after Ryker pulled the knife out of her leg, she remained in the chair. She had so many questions and no answers.

Had he known where she was this whole time? Was he aware she was being tortured daily?

Since Ryker was here, she assumed Zanri was dead. She'd seen the violence in the shifter's eyes, and there was little doubt in her mind that he would've done anything he could to carry out Jelisette's orders .

Rules are rules .

Tears gathered behind Brynleigh's eyes.

Fuck the rules. Fuck the game. Fuck it all. None of it mattered anymore.

She couldn't decide which answer would be worse—that Ryker had been aware that she was being tortured and that he'd ignored her or that he'd forgotten about her the moment he let them take her away.

And then he caught her when she almost fell, and none of her questions seemed to matter anymore.

Nothing mattered except for the searing heat of his flesh against hers. How had she not noticed that she was freezing until now?

He was a furnace, and she was made of ice. Bloody, bruised, broken ice.

Brynleigh stared at Ryker's black T-shirt as he carried her. Such a normal piece of clothing to wear to a place filled with so much pain.

His grip tightened as they neared the door, and Brynleigh bit back a whimper.

He must've heard something because he glanced down at her. That brown gaze that had once looked upon her with so much love was hard and emotionless.

"Where…" The word was a breathy rasp. She tried again. "Where are you taking me?"

Rocks were softer than his voice when he answered, "I'm taking you into my custody."

Custody .

The word clanged like a loud bell in Brynleigh's mind, reminding her she was a prisoner, not his wife.

Not anymore.

She looked at the hard pinch of his mouth before nodding and closing her eyes.

She understood the underlying meaning of his words.

Her death would come at his hands .

Brynleigh was grateful for that small mercy. It certainly wasn't one she deserved. They could've let her rot in this prison for an eternity.

Death would be a reprieve from such an awful existence.

It made sense, in a way.

She'd confessed everything and told them all she knew. There were no more secrets, no more lies.

Maybe this time, death would bring her peace.

"Okay," Brynleigh whispered.

Resigned to her fate, she kept her eyes closed and let her head loll back into the crook of Ryker's arm.

She would find refuge in his embrace one last time before he killed her. And then, she would cling to the memories of their wedding and those fleeting happy days as her life ended.

There was little doubt in Brynleigh's mind that Ryker would kill her slowly. She was deserving of such a death.

She had devoted her immortal life to learning the art of revenge and murder. Her heart was black, and her hands were stained crimson with the blood of others.

No amount of soap could remove the marks of death from her soul.

For six years, Brynleigh had allowed Jelisette to twist her into a person that her sister, Sarai, would never recognize.

And after all that hard work and planning, what did Brynleigh have to show for it?

A broken heart and a husband who hated her.

She'd been used, deceived, and betrayed. Now, she was done. She'd failed her task, and she would enter death's cold embrace willingly.

Heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway, but Brynleigh didn't open her eyes.

"This is a bad idea, Captain," a gruff man said. It was a new voice, one she hadn't heard before.

"I'm taking her," Ryker growled. "Get out of my way. This is my decision. "

Before she'd learned the truth of who caused the storm in Chavin, Brynleigh would've been happy to hear the threat of violence in the captain's voice. It would have proved that Ryker deserved what she'd planned. She would've latched onto it, shoving away all the feelings she'd developed over the course of the Choosing.

But now it just fed her numbness.

Ryker was angry, and that was fine. He had every right to feel that way.

All that Brynleigh could do was hope that he wouldn't drag out her death too long.

She was tired. So, so tired.

There was a shuffling and then a feminine huff. "Chancellor Rose won't be happy about this. You think you can hide behind your mother's name?"

Brynleigh stiffened at that voice. Emilia was the worst of the three tormentors, and there was something wholly wrong about the witch.

Tension tightened Brynleigh's shoulders and stole her breath. She hated Emilia and the way her body reacted to her. Brynleigh's insides churned, expecting an influx of pain.

Before her imprisonment, Brynleigh would've fought back. She would've killed the witch without thinking twice about it.

But now?

She didn't even open her eyes.

Something had shattered within her during the seemingly never-ending torture sessions. There was a hole deep within her soul. She would never be the same person again.

But Ryker was taking her into his custody to kill her, so it didn't matter.

"I'll deal with the Chancellor myself," the captain said, his tone brokering no room for arguments.

Emilia snorted. "Good luck with the bloodsucking bitch. She's fucking useless. "

A snarl rumbled through Ryker's chest, and his grip tightened around her.

Brynleigh didn't say anything.

More footsteps. So many footsteps. They must've been keeping her deep underground.

Time slipped on.

Coldness enveloped Brynleigh despite Ryker's arms around her, and her sluggish brain finally caught up to the fact that her frigidness was caused by a lack of blood. She needed to drink, but she was so tired. How long would the witch's magic last, keeping the worst of her Fledgling status at bay?

Hopefully, it would be long enough for Brynleigh to be done with all this. The last thing she wanted was to fall into bloodlust before she died.

At some point, a vehicle door opened. Ryker placed her on a seat. His voice was cool and detached as he explained that the car was lined in prohiberis, so she couldn't shadow out of it.

Brynleigh didn't respond. She was far too tired and hurt to explain that his concern was a moot point. She couldn't shadow right now. Other than her fangs, she was basically a mortal, broken from all the torture and lack of blood.

At least she wouldn't die in the prison. It was a small mercy that she hadn't expected. Not after what she'd planned.

How had this become her life?

Betrayal, torture, and death.

She'd have never pictured this end for herself six years ago, yet here she was.

A single tear slid down her cheek, and she curled into a ball on the seat. The smooth leather was cool against her bare feet, but she didn't worry about shoes or bother buckling up.

What was vehicular safety when she was on the way to her death?

A throbbing pain started in the back of her skull, slowly migrating to the front. She assumed it was nighttime since she wasn't burning alive, but she didn't open her eyes to check .

The car was silent save for Ryker's steady breaths and the crunching of wheels on gravel.

Minutes passed. Hours? She wasn't certain.

Keeping track of the passage of time was something people did when their lives weren't in utter shambles.

Brynleigh had no use for time anymore. She had no use for anything at all. She and Ryker could've had something good, but she'd destroyed it all.

If only Zanri hadn't come to the hotel room. If only Brynleigh had told Ryker what was happening before their wedding. If only she'd confessed as soon as she'd realized the truth about the storm.

If only, if only, if only.

It was too late for thoughts like that, though. Too late for maybes and possiblies. There were no more options, no alternate paths.

Brynleigh's husband, the fae she'd Chosen and the man she loved, was going to kill her, and she would let him. She wouldn't fight back. She'd already done enough damage.

Brynleigh knew death intimately, and now, it was her turn to enter its cold, dark embrace.

She was ready.

Eventually, the vehicle slowed.

Brynleigh remained curled up on the seat as Ryker cut the engine. The silence was sudden, and her heartbeat roared in her ears.

Soon, she wouldn't have a heartbeat.

Maybe then, she would be at peace. Maybe then, she would be done.

A door opened, and a cold breeze rushed at her. Her arms broke out in goosebumps. Would death be cold?

"We're here," Ryker said briskly from outside the vehicle.

Brynleigh shouldn't have expected his voice to carry any trace of kindness, but the lack of warmth still sent tears to her eyes. She refused to let them fall, though.

She would be strong, even in this.

Unfurling from her ball, she pried open her eyes. Her brows creased.

This was… not where she'd expected to die.

Ryker had brought her into the woods.

Pine trees towered above them. Water lapped at a distant shore. Leaves rustled. Branches cracked. And the air was clean. There were no exhaust fumes, no factory emissions, and no scent of blood.

In fact, there was no sign of Golden City at all.

It was just the two of them.

And then she looked behind him.

Confusion was tart on Brynleigh's tongue. Had she hit her head during the car ride? This didn't seem like a good killing location. If anything, it seemed… almost serene.

She frowned. Wondering if she was hallucinating, she shut her eyes and drew in a deep breath before opening them again.

The scene remained the same.

A small blue bungalow was nestled in the moonlit pines, partly covered by the trees. A wooden porch wrapped around the home, a flourishing garden sat out front, and a birdhouse hung on a nearby tree.

It looked… nice.

Of all the places Brynleigh thought she would meet her final death, this wasn't one of them.

All her earlier bravado burned away like an early morning fog kissed by the afternoon sun. She was mistaken.

She wasn't ready to die.

Thinking that Ryker would kill her in the dungeon or in a cold, dark place where death reigned was one thing.

But this…

There was a cruelty to dying in a serene location like this, and she didn't want any part of it .

Ryker opened her door, and Brynleigh stared up at him. He seemed so much bigger, with her inside the car and him looming over her. It was like he was a giant, and she was an ant.

Squishable. Breakable. Easy to kill.

Frigid fear coursed through her, and she gripped the leather seat. Her newfound will to live froze her in place.

She met his gaze and blurted, "Please don't do this."

Begging for her life was fucking ironic, considering that she always hated when her marks whined when she came to kill them, but she couldn't stop the words from leaving her lips.

Ryker had been reaching into the car, but he froze. "What?"

She searched his gaze beseechingly. Her heart thundered, and though part of her knew this was useless, she had to try.

"Please don't kill me," she breathed.

She couldn't even believe the words were coming out of her mouth since she'd been ready to die minutes ago, but she'd been wrong.

The will to live lent her strength, and she repeated her request.

Ryker's brown eyes widened, and surprise flashed through them. He stumbled back, shaking his head.

Slowly, Brynleigh unfolded her limbs, the movements stiff and unnatural, and got out of the car. She only took one step towards the fae captain because his face hardened, and something harsh flickered through his eyes.

"I want to live," she said.

Brynleigh reached for Ryker but paused before she could touch him.

The moon cast a silver glow on her raw, red wrists. Her skin was torn and destroyed from the prohiberis, a reminder of what she'd suffered.

"I know I deserve to die, and you'd be well within your rights to take my life, but… please," she whispered. "Don't do it."

The last words were little more than air as they slipped past her lips. It took all her strength and willpower to say them. And now…

It was up to him .

Brynleigh's plea hung between them, growing heavier with each passing second.

Her legs knocked together, tears streamed down her cheeks, and her head felt far too light, but she didn't dare move.

His chest heaved. He didn't say anything.

Seconds became minutes.

"Please," she murmured. "If you cared about me at all?—"

"Of course, I cared about you!" Ryker yelled, his eyes flashing as water streamed from his hands.

It was only for a moment, but the loss of control was telling.

The water vanished, but the tang of magic remained in the air. The temperature dropped, and power radiated from the fae captain.

And his face…

Storms passed through his eyes, and fury radiated from his features.

Brynleigh's legs decided they could no longer hold her weight. Her heart flipped, and the next thing she knew, she was on the ground.

All her aches, pains, and all-too-human woes returned ten times worse than before. She clawed at the cold dirt beneath her and heaved in a breath.

This was too much, too hard, and she was too fucking broken for this.

Tears blurred her vision, and her heart raced.

She had to get on her knees and plead her case. She couldn't give up. She knew that, yet her body refused to listen to her commands.

It was done, even if she wasn't.

Her fangs had gone past aching. They were throbbing entities residing in her gums.

Her soul, her body, and her heart were all done .

Nearby, autumnal leaves crinkled. An owl hooted. Life was in this place .

Brynleigh sucked in as deep of a breath as she could manage, but her lungs didn't want to fill.

Boots filled her vision as Ryker kneeled over her.

"I fucking loved you, Brynleigh," he snarled. Each word was clipped. "I Chose you. And you broke us. You destroyed us. I hope you're happy."

An undercurrent of pain and anger coursed through his words. He was just as hurt, just as broken as her.

"I'm not," she whispered.

This was about as far from happy as she'd ever been.

"Good. Neither am I," he growled, balling his fists at his sides. "Get up and come inside. Don't try to shadow. The house is warded."

Apparently, that was all he was willing to say.

Ryker straightened, wiped his hands on his jeans, and strode up the porch. He punched in a code to unlock the door and let himself into the house.

The door slammed behind him, the sound echoing through the now-silent forest.

Brynleigh stared at the place where Ryker had stood moments before.

Loved .

The word reverberated through her entire being. Her body. Her heart. Her soul.

It became all she knew. All she could feel. All she heard, again and again and again.

He loved her.

But not anymore.

Eventually, Brynleigh mustered up enough strength to rise to her feet. She stumbled after him, half-surprised that the door opened when she turned the handle.

The house was small but quaint. Ryker's back was to her when she entered. He was tense, gripping the back of a kitchen chair, and he didn't turn around.

"The bedroom is down the hallway on the left," he said gruffly. "You can use the bathroom, but don't go anywhere else. There should be clothes in the dresser. Take your pick."

As if she would leave. She was bruised, battered, and starving.

Brynleigh was too tired to fight. Too tired to do anything, really. If he wasn't going to kill her right now, then she would shower. Anything to get this grime and blood off her.

She didn't look around as she walked to the bedroom. If she was still alive in the morning, she'd think about exploring then.

She closed the curtains, stripped off her clothes, and stepped beneath the shower head. Turning the water on as hot as it could go, she let the steam burn away the remnants of the dungeon.

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

Brynleigh wept for herself, for Ryker, and for the utter fucking disaster that was their relationship.

She wept until she had nothing left. Only then did she stumble into the bedroom and collapse on the bed, pulling a blanket over herself. Her hair soaked the pillow, but she didn't care.

He had loved her.

And she had destroyed them.