19. Losing Was Not an Option

CHAPTER 19

Losing Was Not an Option

F rigid water poured from the shower head, pelting Brynleigh from above like tiny needles made of ice. She hadn't even stripped off her tank top and pyjama shorts before getting under the water, having sought refuge in the bathroom after several hours of sleepless tossing and turning.

She had hoped the cold would instill some sense into her, but it didn't seem to be working. She was freezing, which was a feat in and of itself for a vampire, but her mind was a wiring hub of activity.

This entire situation had become a gods-damned mess. Her date with Ryker had been a week ago, and she had been unable to get the fae out of her mind since then. She kept replaying his touch, the memory driving her mad with want. She had so many suppressed emotions. No matter how many she shoved down, there were still more.

Brynleigh needed to talk to Zanri. None of their contingency plans accounted for something like this.

"Fuck." She banged her head against the soaked wall.

Regrettably, other than making her head ring, the action was pointless. She couldn't hide from the truth anymore—she was in a world of trouble.

Brynleigh had feelings for Ryker. Actual, tangible, heart-twisting feelings. She swore again, the curses slipping from her mouth and being swallowed by the water.

The emotions grew stronger every single day. It was getting harder and harder to separate herself from them, and she didn't know how long she could last.

Every day, Ryker did something new to endear himself to her. She hadn't glimpsed the monster once, nor had she seen or heard anything that would lead her to believe an evil man resided in his skin. That was a problem.

An enormous, horrifying problem.

Brynleigh released her shadows. They darkened the bathroom but did nothing to ease the anger and doubt running through her.

The Masked Ball was in two days. Tomorrow, they were returning to Golden City. Apparently, the Hall of Choice had been repaired after the attack. Brynleigh wasn't worried about the journey or the rebels. The participants would be well-guarded, and she was strong enough to care for herself.

No, the problem lay entirely with Ryker. The more time she spent with the water fae, the more she learned about him and the more conflicted she became about her purpose.

He had killed her family in cold blood. By definition, that made him a monster. As someone with blood on her hands—blood of criminals, but still blood—she recognized when someone was evil.

But Ryker hadn't shown her the monster. She hadn't even glimpsed him. Where the fuck was he?

The captain was a sore loser—which secretly delighted Brynleigh, because one would think that a military man would be able to lose gracefully—but he was also kind, caring, and had a slight hint of possessiveness that Brynleigh enjoyed more than she dared admit.

Brynleigh groaned and shut off the water. She stepped out of the shower, toweling off. This would be so much easier if Ryker were evil.

Hanging up her towel, she strode back into the small bedroom. Sarai's picture was on the nightstand, but even that didn't spark the usual fire of revenge. She needed answers, and if she weren't going to sleep, she'd focus on finding out what was going on.

Stepping into a pair of black leggings, Brynleigh pulled them up before drawing on a matching sweater. She threw her hair in a messy bun and drew the hood over her golden locks before sliding her sister's picture into her pocket.

This was risky. The participants weren't supposed to leave their rooms at night. The men and women were staying in different wings of the mansion, and the Matrons had made it very clear that although they were not currently in the Hall of Choice, the structure of the Choosing was still to be respected. These included following archaic laws such as remaining apart during the dating process and abstaining from sexual relations until the wedding night.

Brynleigh wasn't sure what the recourse would be if she were caught, and she didn't plan to find out. She had something the other women didn't: shadows.

Darkness was a deep, powerful song in Brynleigh's veins. Her shadows were always there, waiting to be used. Her wings were an equally powerful form of magic, but unlike the shadows that were her birthright, they didn't itch to be set free if she didn't use them enough. On the other hand, her shadows were an intrinsic part of Brynleigh, an extension of her limbs, and needed to be used.

The vampire exhaled, opened her palms, and released the wisps of night. They flowed from her until the darkness swallowed everything, even the glowing light of the clock. She didn't have time to appreciate her dark magic's effectiveness because she had places to be.

Pulling on her shadows, Brynleigh stepped into the Void. The black, empty place allowed vampires to move from one location to another. Uncertain of whether there were wards that would keep her from journeying far from the mansion, Brynleigh decided the easiest and safest course of action would be to return to the small infirmary.

Traveling to the moonlit woods was a matter of seconds. She stepped out of the Void and wrapped her darkness around her like a cloak. The arctic wind bit at her exposed flesh, but she ignored it to study the cabin.

A burly guard dressed in black gear, gloves, and boots was stationed out front. The curtains were pulled back, and the light of a single desk lamp sliced through the night .

Damn. Brynleigh hoped Doctor Carin would be asleep, but apparently, she was a night owl.

Still, the vampire had made it this far. Giving up on her plan was not an option. Brynleigh was far too aware that she may not have another chance. She surveyed the door. She would knock out the guard if she had to, but she'd rather not leave any trace of her presence.

A quarter of an hour passed before the light flickered off. Isvana must have been smiling down on Brynleigh, because moments later, the doctor stepped out of the cabin. Wrapped in a thick fur coat, Carin carried a stack of files.

Brynleigh smiled at the sudden stroke of luck.

"Done for the night, Doctor?" the guard asked.

"I am, Lucas." She locked the cabin door. "Thank you. You didn't have to stay. I would've been fine."

Lucas shook his head and offered the doctor his arm. "I couldn't leave you alone. There are reports of increased rebel activity all through the Republic. Besides, I've met your wife. No one wants to piss her off."

"True, she's fierce." Carin chuckled and placed her hand on Luca's extended limb. "Thank you for waiting."

Brynleigh added more shadows around herself as the pair walked past, careful not to let her cloak slip. She waited until they had disappeared through the trees before running to the cabin door in a blur. She pressed her ear against the wall and listened intently.

When she was confident the cabin was empty, Brynleigh stepped into the Void again. The lock on the door might prevent most people from entering, but it wouldn't stop her.

Brynleigh's shadows dropped her into the middle of the cabin. She moved with stealth towards the desk and picked up the phone. She couldn't waste any time—what if Lucas planned on returning?

Her fingers dialed Zanri's number from memory.

Her handler picked up on the first ring. "Hello?" He sounded groggy, and for a moment, Brynleigh felt bad. She probably woke him up.

"It's me, Z," she whispered.

"Brynleigh, what the hell?" Someone grumbled in the background, and it sounded like Zanri stumbled into another room. A door closed. "You shouldn't be calling me. The risk?—"

"Fuck the risk," she bit out. It didn't matter that she interrupted him. She didn't have time for his rambling. The guard could come back at any moment. "I had to call. It's important."

A sigh that could level cities slipped from Zanri's mouth. Leather creaked, and she imagined him dropping into his favorite red, worn armchair. "Jelisette isn't here."

"I figured," said Brynleigh.

As long as Brynleigh had known Jelisette, the older vampire had kept a standing appointment once a week. She'd never missed it.

"What's going on?"

"I called to talk to you, Z. I need your advice, not Jelisette's."

Brynleigh already knew what her Maker would say. Jelisette would remind her of all ten rules and reassure her she was on the right track. The problem was that Brynleigh wasn't so sure about that anymore.

"What do you need, B?"

She palmed her neck. "You've been watching the Choosing?"

"Of course. We all have."

Her eyes fell shut, and she groaned. "I'm having trouble."

That was an understatement.

"What kind of trouble?" Zanri sounded like he didn't want to know.

That made two of them. These feelings were wrong. These questions were wrong. And yet, she couldn't stop the next words from pouring from her lips. "Ryker is nothing like what I expected."

"Brynleigh," the shifter growled in warning. "The fae is your mark."

As if she needed the reminder. The truth of what happened to Chavin haunted her every waking moment.

"I know what he is," she hissed into the receiver, clutching the phone. "You think I've somehow forgotten that? Every day, I remember."

"Then what's the problem?"

She pressed the phone against her ear and picked at her pendant with her free hand. "I know what he did. I was there. But maybe…" She chewed on her lip. "Maybe he's changed? Maybe the reason he was in hi ding, the reason we couldn't find him, was because he was turning his life around."

Six years was a long time. People changed, learned, and became better all the time. Or worse. Brynleigh was the perfect example. In six years, she'd become a cold-hearted killer. It was plausible that Ryker was no longer the same man as before. Right?

A long silence came through the line. A thousand-pound weight bore down on her shoulders. The sound of Zanri's breath was heavy in her ears.

Several minutes went by. Brynleigh's heart rapped an unsteady beat. Her hands slickened, and she passed the receiver from one hand to the other.

"Captain Ryker Waterborn is your mark." Zanri's voice was ice, altogether void of emotion.

"I know," Brynleigh replied.

"You entered the Choosing with one goal in mind. What was it?"

"Make him fall in love with me, marry him, and kill him on our wedding night," Brynleigh automatically whispered the words that had been drilled into her over years of practice.

A rumble of approval. "That's correct. And what is rule number ten?"

The hand gripping the phone trembled, and a cold sweat broke out on Brynleigh's forehead. This was why she had risked breaking the rules to call Zanri. This was the reminder she needed. She'd expected the words, but the pain…

She hadn't expected it to feel like a wooden stake piercing her heart.

"Focus, Brynleigh!" Zanri barked. "Rule number ten?"

Brynleigh closed her eyes and ran her tongue over her fangs. She took a deep breath and forced the words out of her dry mouth. "Once the game has begun, losing is not an option. The only alternative to winning is death."

Her voice trembled. Brynleigh knew the rules. She had agreed to them, having never even considered the consequences of losing. Her victory had been assumed… until she met her mark.

But now ?

Now, doubt was an ember in her belly. It was warm and glowing, growing brighter by the day.

"Again," her handler demanded. "What is rule ten?"

Brynleigh briefly wondered why Jelisette and Zanri insisted on this course of action. Why were they pushing her so hard to kill Ryker?

But then Zanri barked her name, and she forgot those doubts. "Once the game has begun, losing is not an option," she repeated. Her voice was harder this time, and the doubt was further away. "The only alternative to losing is death."

Each word was crisp as it settled in her soul.

"Again," Zanri ordered for the third time.

She complied. Ten times, she repeated the rule. Soon, her voice was bolder. Firmer. That ember of doubt flickered and dimmed until it was nearly extinguished altogether.

Zanri was right. Losing wasn't an option. Ryker killed her family. He was responsible for their deaths. It didn't matter that the man wasn't what she expected. He was still a murderer.

Finishing the game was Brynleigh's only option.

"One more time," Zanri demanded coldly. The harshness in his voice was good. It reminded her of the realities she would face outside of the Choosing.

The box holding Brynleigh's emotions was fortified. She drew in a deep breath. "Losing is not an option. The only alternative to winning is death."

The ominous tenth rule rang through her head long after she'd hung up the phone and returned to her room.

Zanri was right, and rule ten was clear: Ryker Waterborn had to die.