9. It wasn’t a Lie

CHAPTER 9

It wasn't a Lie

S ix days had passed since Brynleigh's meeting with Jelisette.

Six very quiet, very tense days followed by silent, long nights. Brynleigh's nightmares were back, filled with lightning and storms and death.

So much death.

When Brynleigh and Ryker came back to the bungalow after the disastrous encounter with her Maker, she had retrieved blood from the fridge and fed under the weight of the fae captain's silent stare.

He had been upset about the way Jelisette treated her, but what the fuck had he expected?

Brynleigh had warned him that her Maker was likely to kill her, and she'd been right.

Isvana help her, but being right had never been so agonizing. It wasn't just Brynleigh's body that hurt. She was used to that. Physical pain came and went all the time.

It was her heart that burned with a never-ending ache, like an ember had lodged itself within her life-giving organ and was incinerating her from the inside out.

Between that and the mental exhaustion plaguing her, she'd been too sore to talk about what had happened that night. As soon as the blood had kicked in, healing her wounds, she had silently retreated to the bedroom. There, she'd slid the phone and credit card Jelisette gave her on the nightstand, stripped, and climbed into the shower.

Usually, hot water calmed Brynleigh, bringing her peace.

Not this time.

Between Jelisette's anger and Ryker's… well, everything, she'd still been tense when she'd turned off the water. In an exhausted haze, Brynleigh had toweled off, put on her coziest clothes, and climbed into bed.

Ryker hadn't come to talk to her, and she hadn't sought him out before falling into a fitful sleep.

The next day had gone similarly. Same with the one after that. And the next.

The house was too small for them to hide from each other completely, but they'd been engaged in a strange, silent dance. Brynleigh spent most of her time in the bedroom, and Ryker occupied the living space. Whenever he used the shared bathroom, she made sure the door to the bedroom was closed.

Neither of them talked about the divide between them. They didn't talk about anything, and that fucking sucked.

Even though they weren't speaking, she was constantly aware of his presence. It was like her body was attuned to his. Her ears picked up the sounds of his movements no matter what he was doing.

A quick investigation of the nightstand had unearthed a book, The Shadow and the Sparrow .

Even the historical enemies-to-lovers romance between a six-hundred-year-old vampire lord and a bird shifter couldn't distract Brynleigh from the fae on the other side of her door.

For every page she read, she spent twice as long listening to Ryker.

Who knew one person could make so many sounds?

She cataloged each one: his low, tense voice when he spoke on the phone; his grunts as he exercised in the living room every morning; the quiet clash of cutlery as he ate; and even his soft snores as he finally slept, tossing and turning on that too-small couch.

Twice, Ryker's friend Nikhail had stopped by, delivering food and blood.

Both times, Brynleigh stayed in the bedroom.

The men spoke in low tones, too quiet even for her to hear, but their voices were like gentle rivers rumbling through the house.

Much like it had during the Choosing, Ryker's voice haunted Brynleigh, waking and sleeping.

He haunted her.

She couldn't get him out of her head. Despite the anger she felt towards him for allowing them to torture her, her mind still sought him in her dreams.

Whenever she wasn't plagued by nightmares, it was just them and their feelings, and it was good . Anger, betrayal, and deceit did not exist in her dreamscape, and they were happy.

But dreams were nothing but figments of imagination, and they never lasted.

When she woke, they faded away, and reality tumbled back into her. She couldn't hide in the bedroom forever. Their silent little bubble would pop sooner or later, forcing them to deal with everything.

Chances were, when that happened, it wouldn't be pretty.

So, for now, Brynleigh was content to be quiet, listen to Ryker, and dream of a world where they weren't broken.

The silence shattered at six p.m. that same day.

The Shadow had just declared his undying love for the Sparrow by providing her with the decapitated heads of her enemies as a wedding gift when a shrill ring sliced through the quiet.

Brynleigh jolted .

The book fell flat on the bed, and her eyes flew to the dresser. Sure enough, the phone Jelisette had given her was lighting up.

The door opened, banging against the wall.

Ryker loomed in the threshold.

Isvana help her, but Brynleigh's core heated at the sight of him. She wanted him, even now, and she wasn't sure what to do about that.

But this wasn't the moment for desire.

He raked his hand through his hair, and his wide eyes landed on the dresser.

Grabbing the phone, he tossed it to her. "Answer it."

As if she would do anything else. Keeping Jelisette waiting was a bad idea on any given day.

Brynleigh accepted the call, setting the phone to speaker. "Hello?"

"Tonight. The Rosewood." Jelisette skipped pleasantries and went right to business, naming an elite club in the Southern Region that Brynleigh had been to a few times before.

"What do you need me to do?" Brynleigh asked.

She could almost feel Jelisette's eyes roll.

"What I taught you, obviously," the older vampire snarled. "Or did participating in the Choosing rob you of your ability to spill blood?"

Such a kind, loving, and compassionate Maker.

"Of course not," Brynleigh said as calmly as possible. "I'll do it."

After all, she had no choice. Ryker's deal dictated as much.

"Good. Your target is someone I've had my eye on for a while. He shouldn't be a problem for you." Jelisette paused, and the phone vibrated. "I've sent you the files."

The call disconnected as quickly as it had begun.

Jelisette had never been a paragon of warmth, especially considering their line of work, but that was cold even for her.

Brynleigh turned the phone off as soon as the call disconnected, not yet prepared to look at the files. She usually did this part with Zanri, but now she'd have to do it alone.

A fresh sting of betrayal ran through her. How many more times would she have to feel the weight of what had happened? She couldn't help but wonder about Zanri, though.

Did Owen, his on-again, off-again partner, know about his betrayal? Had he played a part in it, too?

More questions to ponder at a later date. There were so many fucking questions.

Right now, she had a fae captain to deal with.

His gaze drilled into her head, and she knew without seeing him that he was watching her.

Her cheeks heated. She lifted her eyes slowly, a little frightened of what she might see in his expression.

"It's true." Ryker's eyes were wide with fascinated horror, a frown digging into his face and marring his handsome features. "You're going to kill someone. For her ."

Brynleigh stared at him, trying to decipher the emotions she saw on his face. Was he… angry with her again? How fucking dare he? It wasn't like she asked for this. This was what he wanted. This was his deal.

"Yes, I am," she bit out.

This world was kill or be killed. That was how Jelisette worked. No matter what, someone would be dying tonight, and it wouldn't be Brynleigh. Not if she could help it.

Ryker took a step towards her before he stopped. His fist clenched and unclenched, a line creasing his forehead.

"Who… Who are you?"

He looked at her like she was a monster.

Maybe she was.

"I'm the same person you've always known."

She'd been this way since her Making. Her sire had made her into a creature of darkness, and her heart was black. She was the worst of the worst, and she'd always known it.

Now, he was learning that, too .

The answer didn't seem good enough for him. He shook his head as though he was disappointed in her.

The fucking gall.

It wasn't like Ryker was an innocent lamb, unused to the hard ways of this world.

Brynleigh bore the marks of his precious army's torture on her soul—torture he'd allowed to happen.

Even though he hadn't been responsible for Chavin's destruction, she knew he had blood on his hands. His military records proved he'd been present at several battles, and he hadn't flinched when he showed up in The Pit.

They were both predators, both deadly.

She stood and furled her fists. Her book was long forgotten in the face of the fae's hypocritical anger.

"What did you think would happen when you sent me back to my Maker? Did you think we'd have a tea party and reminisce about times past? That I could just waltz in and get your Isvana-damned information?"

He kept staring at her, which only fueled the blazing inferno in her soul.

"No," she snarled, pulling back her lips and showing her fangs. "I have to play the game, and this is how I fucking do it."

Like a statue, he stood in the doorway. Of course, he was reverting to his earlier silence.

Her heart would've ached, but it was too far gone for that.

Groaning, Brynleigh shook her head and grabbed the phone. She opened the first file and scanned it. The document lacked Zanri's finesse, which didn't surprise her. The feline shifter was a whiz with electronics, and Jelisette hated them. Still, the information was all there.

Target: Tathdel Crystalis, Earth Elf

Age: 24 1

Crimes: Convicted of three murders, suspected of a dozen more.

Brynleigh kept reading, her eyes growing incrementally wider as she scrolled through the pages.

Tathdel Crystalis was not a good Earth Elf. If anything, he might be one of the vilest creatures she had ever gone after.

A macabre slideshow filled the screen, but she didn't look away. These victims deserved to have someone witness what had been done to them.

Vines bound corpses to the ground. Thorns ripped through flesh. Trees grew out of cement, their limbs choking those trapped in their branches. Blood coated everything in sight.

Earth Elves, more than their Light, Death, and Fortune Elf counterparts, were meant to use their magic for good. For life. After all, long ago, the High Lady of Life had restored the balance using her earth magic.

But this?

It was wrong on so many levels. What would the High Lady of Life have done if she knew one of her descendants would become this ?

Brynleigh shuddered. Maybe it was a good thing vampires couldn't physically bear children. At least she would never have to deal with an errant descendant many centuries down the line.

The proof was undeniable: Tathdel deserved the death coming to him.

By the time Brynleigh had read all thirty-two pages, cool relief ran through her. Part of her had wondered if Jelisette would test her by giving her a target who wasn't her usual type, but thank Isvana, she'd been wrong.

And then she looked up.

The fae captain was still watching her with that same expression on his face.

The relief vanished as though it had never existed .

"Before you judge me for what I'm about to do, take a look at this." Brynleigh thrust the phone at him, leaving the file pulled up, and went to the bathroom to get ready.

She shut the door behind her and turned on the tap. Shivering at the icy water, she scrubbed her face and hands.

A strange sense of peace filled her as she twisted her hair into a braid. For years, this had been her life. She'd get a name, read a file, and kill the criminal. It was what she did.

Some people were good at mathematics, others were skilled at the arts, but Brynleigh?

Death was her calling, her talent, and for many years, it had been her reason for being.

So why, when she gripped the counter and met her gaze in the mirror, didn't she recognize the woman looking back at her?

Her eyes seemed darker than usual, filled with shadows and secrets. Her lips weren't as red as they used to be. Tiredness was written into tiny lines on her face.

That Isvana-blessed otherworldliness that all vampires had was still present, but torment was a shroud over Brynleigh's features. Even her necklace, a gift from her parents before they died, seemed dimmer.

It was as though a light had been snuffed out inside her. For years, she'd been living for revenge, and now, that was gone.

Who was she without the driving force of her vengeance?

Swallowed by the darkness in her eyes, Brynleigh lost track of time. She stared into those endless depths until a knock came on the door, startling her from her thoughts.

"The sun is setting." Ryker's voice was gruff and low, not unlike the first time they'd spoken in the Hall of Choice.

Despite everything that had happened, something deep within her sparked at the sound of his voice.

Even now, he called to her like no one else.

"Oh." She released the counter and exhaled. "I didn't realize so much time had passed. Tonight?— "

"I'm coming with you," he growled. "It's my job to protect the army's assets. Where you go, I go."

That vow would have caused butterflies to flutter in her stomach a few weeks ago. His promise would have been romantic, and it would have warmed her from the inside out.

But now…

If Brynleigh closed her eyes and forgot about the tracking bracelet, the torture she'd endured, and the fact that his sister had killed her family, it was almost as if none of their problems existed.

"Is that all I am to you? An asset?" She regretted the question the moment it slipped off her tongue, but she wanted to hear the answer.

It took far too long for him to respond with a whispered, "Maybe."

She wanted to be angry with him for that answer. She wanted to hate him for it. How dare he feel that way?

But instead of hatred, her idiotic heart fluttered because he didn't outright say no.

Stupid fucking emotions.

Brynleigh missed the box where she used to keep her feelings. Life had been much easier when she didn't have to deal with them.

"I'll have to shadow us both," she warned.

The Rosewood was too far to travel through regular, mortal options.

"I know."

She pressed her forehead against the door, feeling each grain of wood as her hand landed on the knob.

Memories of a different wall in a library during a time when they weren't yet broken flashed through her mind.

"Ryker?" She breathed his name, the word barely a whisper as it left her lips.

A human wouldn't have been able to hear her—but he wasn't a human.

"Yes?" He sounded close. Was he also pressed against the door ?

She squeezed her eyes shut, gathering her courage. "I… I need to tell you something. In case tonight doesn't go as planned."

There was always a chance that things would go wrong on a job. It was a liability for what she did. Someone could fight back, or the police could show up, or she could be injured.

Risks were a part of her life. They had never really bothered her before the Choosing. Back then, she hadn't had anyone. No one would have cared if she'd died.

But now?

Even with everything dividing them, Brynleigh's heart still beat for her fae captain. The past six days of silence had confirmed that for her.

She still loved him—she would always love him.

But she didn't think love would be enough to fix them.

He growled, "Brynleigh, nothing is going to?—"

"You don't know that," she breathed. "Please, let me say this."

A resigned sigh came from the other side of the barrier, and her heart broke a little more. She'd done this. Ruined them. None of this would've happened if she'd figured out a way to tell the truth before the wedding night.

"Go ahead," he said after a minute. "I'm listening."

Brynleigh drew in a deep breath. Nerves twisted her stomach. Her mouth dried, but she placed her palm flat on the door and forced her lips to form words.

"It wasn't all a lie," she whispered. "I need you to know that. The things I confided in you, the chess games we shared, the kisses, none of them were fake. They meant something to me."

Tears streaked down her cheeks, and she did nothing to stop them.

The silence was back, and this time, it was louder than ever. There were no cameras, no one watching or listening, and no guards.

It was just… them.

Seconds bled into minutes .

The silence grew until the racing of her anxious heart was the only thing she could hear.

Then, just when she thought he had left, there came a sound like knuckles drumming on the other side of the door.

"I loved you, Brynleigh." His baritone voice echoed with remnants of deep pain. "I gave you my heart in the Choosing. I bared my soul to you."

There it was again. Fucking past tense.

She'd never hated it more than she did at that moment. It was nothing but a reminder of the things they'd shared.

She sniffled, not bothering to wipe away the tears. Not now, when they were finally talking.

It was easier with the door between them.

Easier because she didn't have to see the hurt in his eyes. She didn't have to look at that painfully beautiful face. She didn't have to see that mouth that didn't smile for her anymore.

"I know," she murmured. "I love you."

Falling in love with Ryker had nearly killed her, but she'd done it. She'd given him her heart, and even after the torture and his cold treatment, it still belonged to him.

What did that say about her?

A pained chuckle came from the other side of the door. Something thumped, and then he groaned.

"Of course, now she fucking says it. Give her time, I told myself. She'll get there, just wait."

The door rattled like he dropped his head against it.

She should've told him on their wedding night. She knew that, but she thought they would have more time.

Of all the fucking times to be wrong.

"Ryker—"

He snarled, and she clamped her mouth shut.

"The fucking problem is that while some of what you told me was true, I never lied to you," he said. "From our very first meeting, I spoke the truth. I gave you my heart, and you…"

His voice trailed off, and he didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. His meaning was clear, and his unspoken words echoed as though he had screamed them.

You broke us.

You destroyed us.

You shattered everything we could have had.

You ended us.

More tears flowed down her cheeks, and she rested her head against the door. Who knew unspoken words could cause so much pain?

"I… I can't do this tonight." His voice cracked, and he groaned. "Just… come outside when you're ready."

Footsteps announced his departure, and moments later, the front door slammed shut.

He was gone.

The brokenness between them was a gaping ocean.

"Fuck." She'd meant for the word to come out strong, but it was a half-mangled sob.

Her heart had been twisted and stomped on, burned and frozen. It hurt so much, and she didn't know what to do about it.

So, she didn't do anything.

Brynleigh gave herself five minutes to cry. Five minutes to let all the pain pour down her cheeks. Five minutes to sit in the hurt washing through her.

And then she stood, wiping away her tears.

She had a job to do, and even if her heart was in pieces, she would do this. Because she'd made a deal, and she wouldn't go back on her word.

She dressed mechanically, barely noticing the black V-neck sweater and jeans she slipped on.

It took everything she had to put her confession aside and focus on what was to come.

Grabbing the phone her Maker had given her off the floor, Brynleigh shoved it in her back pocket with Jelisette's credit card. She put on black ankle boots and zipped them up, before striding out the front door .

With every step she took, Brynleigh fortified a wall around her heart. She couldn't let feelings hamper her mind during this mission. Emotions did not mix with killing.

Instead, she dove headfirst into her inner darkness. Her shadows sang a somber tune as she approached the door, and she found solace in their dark lullaby. She released them, letting the shadowy wisps curl protectively around her.

Brynleigh thought she had succeeded in erecting a wall around her heart until she opened the door. The moment she stepped outside beneath the golden glow of the porch lights, her breath caught in her throat, and she froze.

Charcoal clouds covered the night sky. Bright lightning bolts raced through the heavens. Mist hung heavy in the air, warning of an impending storm. But this wasn't a natural occurrence.

No.

This storm was contained. Controlled. Deadly.

And the source of it all stood with his back to her.