35. New Game, New Rules

CHAPTER 35

New Game, New Rules

B rynleigh's shadows slammed through her veins, urging her to wake up. They swam into her dreams, pulling her out of her fantasies.

What was happening?

She blinked, staring at the glowing red numbers on the clock. It was barely four in the morning. She should've slept for a few more hours after the way Ryker had tired her out. An arm pressed her into the mattress, and a heavy thigh was pinned between hers. She was naked, as was he, but that wasn't what had woken her.

Something was terribly wrong. Brynleigh's stomach twisted, and her shadows writhed, warning her to pay attention.

Her eyes swept through the room, searching for trouble. Their clothes were where they'd left them. Their suitcases, which had been delivered sometime during the reception, were in the open closet. Her eyes lifted to the curtains covering the windows.

Wait. The curtains.

She could've sworn that Ryker had locked the balcony door and closed the curtains before they went to sleep, but now the fabric was cracked open .

That was odd. Maybe the air conditioning blew them apart? They didn't appear to be secured by any fabric.

Frowning, Brynleigh extricated herself from her husband's grip. She slipped off the bed and moved towards the window. Grabbing the curtains, she shut them tight. She was about to turn around when the hairs on her neck prickled.

Releasing shadows from her palms, her spine stiffened as she spun on her heels.

A large tabby cat, nearly twice the size of a house cat, sat on the TV stand. A bag dangled from its front paw, and it stared at her. The animal was unfamiliar, except…

Those eyes. She knew them.

Brynleigh swallowed the scream rising in her throat as a flash of white light erupted from the cat. Her heart pounded violently against her ribs, and she stumbled back a step.

The feline disappeared, and Zanri took its place. He was naked, and the bag that had looked so big against the cat's paw appeared much smaller now.

"What the actual fuck?" Brynleigh whisper-yelled, her gaze darting between her handler and the bed where Ryker slept soundly. "Why are you here?"

Panic caused her thoughts to run at a million miles an hour. She was supposed to have until the morning. They'd all agreed on the plan. It was still early, and the sun hadn't yet risen. How did they know? What had she done to give herself away?

Zanri looked at Brynleigh with something akin to pity in his eyes. "The fae is still alive."

Not a question. Was there… sadness in his voice?

Maybe Brynleigh could lie her way out of this. Maybe it wasn't too late. "Yes, for now." Zanri opened his mouth, but she continued, "I'll still do it, Z. The timing just… wasn't right."

It would never be right.

"Because you were fucking him." The shifter's knowing gaze swept over her.

Now , Brynleigh wished she wasn't naked. The way Zanri looked at her made her feel dirty, like she'd done something to be ashamed of. But she hadn't.

"No. Well. Yes. I…"

I wasn't ready.

I think I might love him, which scares me.

I'm not going to kill him because his sister is really the one who caused the flood, and I can't bring myself to hurt her.

I want him.

He's mine.

The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't say any of them in the end.

Instead, she stepped towards the bed, trying to get between Zanri and Ryker. She didn't think Zanri would hurt the fae, but she wanted to be sure.

The shifter watched her carefully. "Jelisette knows."

She furrowed her brows, and her confusion wasn't faked. "What?"

"Love makes us do stupid things." Zanri reached into the bag, and there was a snapping sound. "I should know."

Brynleigh's eyes widened, and she reached for the shifter. "What? Don't?—"

"I'm sorry, B."

"No—"

He pulled something out of the bag. There was a flash of silver, then a pop.

Pain exploded in Brynleigh's chest. A mangled scream slipped from her lips. She called for her shadows, but they were gone.

As she fell to the floor, darkness edging her vision, she could've sworn she heard Zanri say, "Jelisette said to remind you that rules are rules."

Brynleigh went to cry out, but nothing worked anymore. Not her shadows or her wings or her magic or her voice.

And then she tumbled into blackness.

Drip, drip, drip .

The sound of something wet smacking rhythmically against the floor pulled Brynleigh out of the emptiness that had become her entire existence.

How long had she been unconscious? A minute? An hour? A day or longer? She wasn't certain. But Isvana help her, she hurt all over. From her head to her toes, her body felt like it had endured the beating of a lifetime. There was a mortality to her pain that didn't make sense.

Brynleigh frowned as she struggled to understand what was happening to her. Once again, a thick, heavy fog blanketed her mind. This was becoming an exhausting reoccurrence. She pushed through it, struggling to get back to herself. It was like she was swimming through the Black Sea, the inky waters clouding her vision.

What the fuck was going on?

Instinctively, she reached within herself and searched for her shadows. But they weren't there.

Gone.

Next, she searched for her magic.

Gone.

Her ability to summon her wings.

Gone.

Stripped away as though they'd never existed.

Had the past six years been a dream? Maybe she would open her eyes and see Sarai leaning over her bed, grinning. Maybe the storm had all been a nightmare. Maybe her family was still alive, and?—

Her tongue brushed against a tooth. A very sharp, very pointed tooth.

A fang.

None of it was a dream. All of it had been real. Which meant…

Her family was dead. Sarai was dead. She was a vampire. And Ryker…

Oh, gods help her. Ryker.

Every single memory smashed through the fog and collided with Brynleigh at once. The Choosing, their wedding, the reception, the hotel room, and then…

Zanri .

Gods-damn him. Brynleigh had guessed he was a feline shifter. Something about the way he carried himself was a tell.

Zanri had shown up, and then… he shot her. He must have had a special gun in the bag his cat carried.

She remembered the bang and then the flash of pain.

Her hands flew to her abdomen, and she felt for a wound. Her stomach was tender to the touch, but there weren't any open injuries. She was wearing a shirt, though. The material was itchy and unfamiliar. She didn't have time to worry about that right now because she remembered what happened after

Zanri shot her, and then…

She fell to the ground. Shouts. A scuffle. Another gunshot. Ryker crying out.

"No," Brynleigh moaned. "No, no, no."

Her handler must've killed Ryker after he shot her.

Was that what he meant when he said rules are rules?

It was the only thing that made sense.

He shot Ryker, and then he… did something to Brynleigh.

Where was she? Part of her wished she could keep her eyes closed a little while longer and remain oblivious, but she couldn't. She needed to know. To understand.

Ice coated Brynleigh's veins as she opened her eyes despite the pain. A whimper rose in her throat. The shirt wasn't a shirt at all, but a black jumpsuit. That wasn't the worst of it, though.

Gray and black stones rose above her on three sides. Iron bars blocked the only entrance on the fourth wall. There were no windows. There was no light except a single violet Light Elf orb suspended from the ceiling. Condensation dripped down the stones, falling onto the ground in the rhythm she'd heard earlier. Something resembling a toilet and a sink sat in one corner. No bed. No blanket. Nothing else.

A fucking dungeon.

Brynleigh scrambled into a sitting position, moving to the corner of the cell so she could see if anyone walked by.

Her heart was a mallet shaking her entire body, but she didn't cry out to Isvana or Ithiar. There was no point in begging the goddess of the moon or the god of blood for help. She'd gotten herself into this mess, and there was no one to blame but herself.

Brynleigh didn't even realize they still had dungeons in the Republic of Balance. Their society was supposed to be evolved. They had technology now, for the gods' sake.

But this?

This place looked like it belonged in the stories of the fallen Rose Empire. Black manacles hung from the walls, the cell across from her looked like it housed a skeleton, and the breeze carried faint moans to her ears.

Yes, this was definitely a dungeon, and she was definitely a prisoner.

Because Ryker was…

He was…

He was…

Dead.

Brynleigh's breaths started coming in short gasps. Her head pounded. She drew her knees to her chest and hugged them close. Tears burned her eyes.

Captain Ryker Waterborn was dead.

Because of her.

This was all her fault.

Dead .

The word echoed in her mind, getting louder and louder and louder.

She wheezed, sipping air as a fist compressed her lungs.

Something strange happened in her chest. An ache grew in her heart. She tried to ignore it, to gather the emotion and shove it away, but she couldn't.

The box was broken.

She was broken.

Her lungs squeezed, squeezed, squeezed until they were on the brink of exploding. Her heart boomed. Tremors ran through her, and she rocked back and forth.

Then her gaze dropped, catching on the ring on her fourth finger.

A shuddering, broken gasp escaped her.

Her soul cracked . Fissures spider-webbed from that point, spreading through her.

Agony engulfed her.

Dead.

She shattered into a million pieces. It was like she'd been shot all over again. The pain of a thousand wooden stakes being shoved into her exploded inside Brynleigh's heart.

She screamed, but the cry soon contorted, becoming a twisted, mangled keening wail.

Anguish flooded her, stemming from her broken heart. It filled every crevice, every crack, every fragmented part of her soul. It wasn't a quiet trickle of grief or a blanket of despair like she'd felt when her family died.

No. This was different. Deeper. Darker. More complete.

This devastating, world-shattering pain would destroy her. There would be nothing left of Brynleigh after this.

Not that it mattered.

He was dead, and she was alone. Oh, gods.

Betrayal coursed a bitter path through her. Zanri did this to her. Jelisette abandoned her. Ryker died on her.

She was alone, and it was all her fault. She had no one to blame but herself.

Tears streamed down Brynleigh's face as she stared at the wedding ring. The jewelry mocked her as if it knew that she'd been married for less than a day before becoming a widow.

Alone.

She wept and screamed and cried until her throat was raw and her fangs ached. And then, when she had no more voice, she rocked back and forth.

A deluge of pain ran through Brynleigh, the grief a never-ending torment of betrayal and anguish and despair.

And she broke.

Minutes passed. Hours. Days. Time had no meaning.

No one came to see her.

At some point, she must've drifted off to sleep. Curse her young vampiric body for still needing rest.

She woke with a start, still living the same nightmare. Still betrayed. Still forsaken by her Maker.

There were more tears.

How could there be so many tears?

Ryker was dead because of her. He was a good man, a great one even, and she'd gotten him killed.

She never should've agreed to this stupid plan.

And to think she once thought this was nothing but a game.

She was a fucking fool.

Brynleigh should have told Jelisette the truth about River's involvement in the storm as soon as she learned about it. Maybe that could've saved Ryker's life. Maybe she could've stopped Zanri.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

There were so many maybes, so many things she could have done, but none of them would save her from this fate.

Her mind ran in circles as she replayed the past few months repeatedly in her mind. She recalled the joy she'd felt when she first entered the Choosing. It was a terrible contrast to the pain coursing through her now.

She'd accomplished her goal. Captain Ryker Waterborn was dead. The Brynleigh from a few months ago would've been celebrating this news. But now?

She was wrecked.

For the first time in her entire life, Brynleigh had found someone who truly understood her.

And he was…

Gone.

She ran through every single scenario in her mind. Every interaction, every word, every moment they were together, searching for something she could've altered.

Time slipped on and on.

Her fangs ached, and her stomach hollowed.

Eventually, she realized she was hungry. How long had it been since she'd last had blood? She wasn't certain.

And then she felt it .

The air in the dungeon shifted. A cold breeze blew past her. Goosebumps pebbled on her arms.

Footsteps rang out, getting louder by the second.

And stupidly—so fucking stupidly that if she weren't broken, she'd have laughed at herself for being such an idiot—a spark of hope came to life in Brynleigh's stomach.

"Ryker?" she called out, her voice raspy from disuse. "Is that you?"

A bitter, malicious laugh that sounded like nightmares brought to life came from beyond her cell. It sent shivers down her spine.

"No." The voice was as melodic as it was deep and deadly. "He's gone."

It felt like she fell from the top of a high-rise as her stomach plummeted. She heard herself cry out and felt her heart shatter once more as a tall, black-haired fae approached her cell.

Two onyx manacles and a silver muzzle hung from his black-gloved fingertips. He wore fighting leathers, and though he had no visible weapon, she got the sense he could kill her in a heartbeat.

Swallowing at the sight of the fae, she pressed her back against the wall. Silver and vampires did not mix. Brynleigh wasn't entirely sure what the muzzle would do to her, but she didn't want to find out.

Violence glinted in the soldier's eyes as they swept over her. "You're in a lot of trouble."

"Please, I didn't do this." She shook her head, and more tears gathered in her eyes. This whole situation was her fault, but she didn't kill Ryker.

He laughed wickedly. "Oh, this will be fun."

Moving the muzzle to his left hand, he pulled a bag out of his pocket. Reaching in, he withdrew a shimmering black powder and blew it in her direction.

As soon as it hit Brynleigh's skin, fire erupted inside her.

He stepped into the cell, a malicious grin carved into his face.

And Brynleigh screamed.