32. None of this was Right

CHAPTER 32

None of this was Right

A man—or at least, Brynleigh assumed he was a man since he wore a black mask over his face, leaving only his eyes visible—stepped up to the camera.

No amount of cloth could hide the breadth of his shoulders or the bulk of his muscles. A menacing gleam filled his eyes, and the room behind him was pitch-black.

Something about him made Brynleigh's skin crawl. A few shadows slipped from her palms, and a cold sweat appeared on her forehead.

"What's happening?" someone in the audience yelled.

"Is this part of the Reunion?"

Brynleigh's sense of unease increased tenfold.

A pair of soldiers ran to the TV, yelling about turning it off.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The masked man's voice was edged with violence. He must have had a camera set up to watch the room.

"If you want to see any of your men again, you'll clear the room and find me someone in charge. No one try anything stupid. I don't want any press involved. If I catch a whiff of this on the news or if this stream is cut, we will kill them all."

One silent second passed before utter pandemonium exploded .

People screamed, each battling over the others to be heard. Shouts of alarm came from the audience. A few women erupted into tears. Someone fainted. The soldiers seemed just as confused and in shock as everyone else.

Cold, sickening, toe-curling, stomach-turning dread filled Brynleigh's stomach.

The masked man turned his head to the side, and Brynleigh caught sight of something on his neck.

Was that…

"Isvana help us all," she breathed.

Oh, this would not end well.

Etched among swirling tattoos of flowers and vines was a symbol she'd come to know all too well. A dagger stabbed a crescent moon, taking up a place of prominence on the rebel's neck.

Fuck.

The curse seemed to be the only thing Brynleigh could think of. Her brain wasn't functioning. She could barely breathe, let alone find words.

The Black Night was here early, and they'd gone off script. This was wrong. They were supposed to attack the Reunion, not take the men. No one was supposed to get hurt. Hostages had never been part of the plan.

Had they ever intended to attack tonight as Brynleigh had suggested?

She had known something was wrong when she saw the moon. Why hadn't she done something earlier? Instead of calling Ryker, she'd been busy fighting with Valentina.

Brynleigh couldn't help but feel that she'd brought this upon everyone here by suggesting that the rebels attack at the Reunion.

Was this her fault?

She didn't scream or cry because what good would tears do in a situation like this?

Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods.

Bile rose in her throat. Her vision swam, and a tremor ran through her .

Her stomach hollowed, and her attention returned to the TV.

The room behind the masked man was dark, but she could make out flickers of movements. Her vampiric hearing picked up muffled cries and grunts.

Each sound caused the emptiness within her to grow until it felt like she was falling into a pit of nothingness.

Internally, she screamed Ryker's name. She wished they had a bond, a link, or even those gods-damned earrings that let him hear her. Anything would be better than this empty, silent, not-knowing state where she found herself.

That empty pit threatened to swallow Brynleigh whole. She needed to act, to move, but all her strength and bravado were so far away.

Someone cleared out the audience until only a few people remained.

Soldiers surrounded the women, herding them like sheep into a circle.

Nikhail made it on stage. He stood several feet from the others, furiously typing into his phone.

Sending for help, Brynleigh hoped.

"There now," the man on the screen said after a few minutes had passed. "It seems like I have your attention. Very good. Now that you're listening, I have some demands."

"Demands?" One of the soldiers standing near the screen scoffed. "You don't get to make demands. How do we know this isn't a hoax? You could just be playing a game with us."

Brynleigh didn't think interrupting the rebel was wise, but she wasn't a trained soldier.

"I get it. You want proof. That's fair." The rebel's eyes gleamed. He raised a gloved hand and motioned to a person off-camera. "Hit the lights."

A bulb flickered above the masked man, casting faint yellow rays over the space. It wasn't bright, but it was enough.

Isvana help them all, but it was fucking enough .

Screams rose once again. Esme, who had seemed so fierce the first night of the Choosing, fainted.

Even Valentina cried out in alarm.

Brynleigh's heart caught in her throat. Black spots filled her vision. Tighter, tighter, tighter, her lungs squeezed. Her fangs ached, and shadows slipped from her hands.

By all the gods, this was worse than her most terrifying nightmares.

"Here's your proof ." The rebel's eyes hardened, and he stepped to the side.

Hallie screamed, "Therian!"

Eleven men were huddled together, all on their knees. Their arms were tied behind their backs. Brown canvas sacks covered their faces. Prohiberis cuffs were locked around their hands and feet. Clothes were torn and dirty.

Several other masked men surrounded them, each holding impressive-looking guns that could probably kill someone in one shot.

It took Brynleigh two seconds to find Ryker.

He was in the middle of the group, hooded like the rest, but it didn't matter. She would recognize his form anywhere. Those hands that held her close. His arms. He was still wearing his running gear, for the gods' sake.

Momentary worry flashed through Brynleigh's head for Marlowe, but she'd have to deal with that later.

Her gaze snagged on the red trail of blood on Ryker's shirt. It wasn't enough to be a severe injury, especially with his fae healing, but still.

Someone had hurt him and made him bleed.

Her fangs burned, and she clenched her fists. She would kill them for this.

He was hers.

Brynleigh was so distracted by the bloody shirt that it took her a moment to realize the masked man had returned. His eyes were stony and filled with violence.

"You've gotten what you asked for," he snarled. "Now it's my turn. If you wish to see these men alive, Chancellor Ignatia Rose will announce tonight that she is dismantling the Representative government and stepping down from her position, effective immediately."

"I. Will. Not." The Chancellor spoke with confidence.

Brynleigh hadn't even realized the head of the Republic was on stage.

Four broad-shouldered bodyguards flanked the Chancellor as she strode towards the screen. Her emerald wide-legged pantsuit looked expertly tailored as it hugged her fae form. Black heels gave her several inches over most of the others, clicking as she walked.

"We do not negotiate with people like you," the Chancellor continued.

Her voice was like ice. She spoke in a measured, quiet tone, and power was woven through every word.

Brynleigh's stomach bottomed out.

"People like me? I know who you are, Ignatia ." The rebel hissed her name as if there was something personal between them. "What you and your inner circle have done in the name of the Representatives. The people of this continent have suffered long enough beneath your ‘care.' It's time for a change of pace."

The energy in the room shifted. The air thickened, and breathing was more difficult than ever.

Brynleigh's heart pounded, and the Chancellor bristled. Embers crackled at the fae's fingertips.

Long moments passed as the rebel and the Chancellor stared at each other before the fire fae shook her head.

"No," she said calmly. "Release them, and this will go easier on you."

The rebel laughed as if this was all a joke.

"Easier? Nothing is ever easy for those of us who aren't born into power."

"You—"

"No. Your reign of terror has gone on long enough." He canted his head, a dangerous glint in his eye. "Perhaps you need some additional motivation."

Brynleigh forced herself to breathe and analyze the situation despite the horror coursing through her veins.

The rebels couldn't be that far away—she'd spoken to Ryker only a few hours ago. Some of the men wore suits and ties, so they must've been taken on their way to the Reunion. How had the rebels pulled this off without the women realizing their husbands were missing?

Her fingers dug into the back of the couch, and she stared behind the rebel.

The dark room appeared windowless, and the walls and floors were made of cement. Maybe they were underground?

The Chancellor strode with authority to the TV. "I'm ordering you to let them go."

The man on the screen laughed. As if this was a joke to him. As if he knew something no one else did.

"That's funny, Chancellor. You still believe you're in charge. However, that is not the case." He gestured to one of his armed companions. "Pick one of them and bring them to me."

A cry of alarm erupted from the women on stage.

Even Valentina hissed, "Mother, put a stop to this."

But the Chancellor did not respond to any of them. Not even her daughter.

One of the masked gunmen strode into the group of captives.

The rebel in charge looked back to the camera.

"You see, Ignatia, this is not a negotiation. You will do as we say, or Representative blood will spill."

The one with the gun made a show of looking around the group. He bent, but a hand covered the camera before anyone could see who he'd picked.

They could still hear, though.

"That one."

A grunt. The sound of flesh against flesh. A moan.

It was the worst soundtrack Brynleigh had ever heard.

Someone on the stage was crying.

The shock in the Hall of Choice was palpable, and horror was a bitter tang in the air. Even the Chancellor's guards didn't seem to know what to do.

Suddenly, the camera was uncovered, and visibility was restored.

Now, the rebels were in a smaller space. A light dangled from the ceiling, casting dark shadows on the room. Kneeling between two masked men, hoodless, bound, gagged, and struggling against their iron grip was….

"No!" Valentina screamed.

The fire fae broke free of the guards circling the other women and ran to the screen. In a show of emotion that Brynleigh hadn't known the other woman possessed, Valentina grabbed the television.

"Edward!"

The fae's head reared up. He screamed against the gag. His words were garbled, but there was no mistaking the fear in his eyes.

"Release him!" For the first time that evening, the Chancellor's voice shook. "Let him go."

The masked man reappeared, and the look in his eyes was darker than ever.

"No, I don't think I will."

A red ribbon of magic slipped from his palm, slithering through the air like a deadly snake until it hit Edward and vanished into him.

For one long, drawn-out moment, nothing happened.

Then Edward groaned. An anguished, guttural sound came from his chest. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his eyes widened.

"What did you do?" Valentina screamed, struggling against the guard who was pulling her back.

The masked man shrugged. "Did you know Death Elves can kill someone slowly by draining their life force from the inside out? "

"What?" Valentina screamed. "No!"

Red ribbons swirled around the man—the Death Elf.

"You have one hour before this man dies, Ignatia. Then, I'll pick another. And another." He sent another ribbon of magic towards the fae on his knees, and Edward screamed. "I could do this all night long. I'll even give you a few minutes to decide what to do. Talk to you soon."

The screen went black.

Three heartbeats passed in absolute silence before chaos descended on the stage. Shouts and screams and cries battled for attention. Valentina's sobs could be heard above them all.

It turned out the fae did have a heart, and it sounded like it was breaking.

People were yelling at the Chancellor, but Ignatia Rose was giving orders to her guards.

Brynleigh wouldn't sit still and do nothing. Not while Ryker was in danger. Releasing the couch, she strode towards Nikhail. The air fae seemed to have the same idea as her.

He gripped her arm. "Backstage. Now."

A dark-skinned woman walked beside him, the tailored jacket of her feminine suit flapping open and revealing the gun tucked in her waistband.

She didn't have the pointed ears of a fae or elf, and she didn't smell like a shifter. Maybe she was a witch or an especially skilled human.

As they walked backstage, Nikhail ripped off Brynleigh's microphone. He handed it to the other woman, who pressed a button before throwing it away.

"It's off," she said in a soft voice.

Brynleigh looked at Nikhail. "I need to find Ryker."

At the same time, the air fae said, "I know everything."

Something in his eyes made the predator deep within Brynleigh stand on end. He was dangerous like she was dangerous.

Her eyes widened as she carefully drew shadows into her palms. She wouldn't let anyone hurt her, not even one of her husband's friends. "I didn't do this. I would never hurt Ryker."

When she'd suggested to Jelisette that the rebels attack, this was never her plan. She never wanted anyone to get hurt. She just wanted to stop the Black Night.

How had everything gone so fucking wrong?

A long, long moment passed before Nikhail nodded. "I believe you. I've seen you and Ryker together. You love him."

Brynleigh exhaled, and she released her grip on her shadows. "With all my heart."

A high-pitched screech came from the stage as Valentina begged her mother to do something. Anything.

Brynleigh turned her attention back to Nikhail. "I've been to the rebels' meeting place. I don't think they're keeping them there, but we might find something useful." She drew shadows into her palms. "I'm going."

Nikhail's grip tightened on Brynleigh's arm. "Take us with you."

On one hand, Brynleigh liked to work alone. On the other, she'd do anything for Ryker.

Brynleigh frowned, glancing at Nikhail's companion. "Who is she?"

"This is Indira." Nikhail dipped his chin toward the mysterious woman. "She works with me and may be able to help."

At another time, Brynleigh would probably ask more questions, like what did Nikhail and Indira do, and what did they think was happening? But this wasn't the time for questions, so she bottled them up inside.

Every second they spent talking was one where Ryker was suffering. "Okay. I'll do it, but first…"

Her gaze snagged on a knife sitting nearby. She grabbed it and tore away the bottom third of her gown with a few quick slashes. Destroying such a beautiful dress didn't feel great, but there was no way she would've been able to walk, let alone run or fight, in the tight material.

Now, the dress fell to mid-thigh, and Brynleigh could move freely.

Dropping the blade back where she'd found it, she extended her hands to the other two.

"I'll shadow us out of here." She glanced back at the stage and frowned, remembering the others. "Should we?—"

"Don't worry about them." Nikhail waved his phone in the air. "We need to stop this. I've already informed the officers that we're leaving."

"Understood," she said. "Let's go."

As soon as they put their hands in hers, Brynleigh pulled on her shadows and stepped into the Void. She prayed to Isvana that they wouldn't be too late.