26. More than Just an Asset

CHAPTER 26

More than Just an Asset

T wo days had passed since the laser game, and the relaxed air from that night was long gone.

Now, Brynleigh's stomach was twisted up once again. That had been happening frequently, but it was worse tonight, thanks to Ryker's pacing up and down the living room floor.

Brynleigh sat on the couch, her legs crossed beneath her, as he walked back and forth.

The laser game had been nice, although she still didn't understand the purpose of the supposedly recreational activity. A bunch of grown men chasing each other with bright beams across a field for hours seemed silly to her, but everyone else had enjoyed it. She'd been happy to spend time with Ryker and get to know his friends.

The normalcy of that night was a million miles away now.

"I don't like this," her fae captain growled for the tenth time that hour. "So many things could go wrong."

He'd made his displeasure clear. This discussion had been going on all day; now, the moon was high in the sky.

Last night, Brynleigh had gone on a job in the Western Region. In a show of growing trust, Ryker hadn't tagged along.

That had been for the best .

Her target had been one of the worst men she'd ever encountered, which said a lot. Josef Longrun was a prizewinning photographer who'd pivoted photos of landscapes to ones of youth in compromising positions. His actions were deplorable, and Brynleigh had found twisted pleasure in ending his life.

Without Ryker there, she'd been able to concentrate on her job. Josef Longrun hadn't deserved an easy death. He'd bled, whimpered, and screamed all night long before she finally killed him.

Usually, she hated the whiners, but she'd found Josef's sniveling weakness empowering. Every cry, every plea, and every time he begged for forgiveness had drawn a smile to her lips.

The peace she'd gotten from last night's kill was gone now.

Sighing, Brynleigh caught Ryker's hand in hers. She tugged him over to the couch.

"Sit with me?" she asked.

He gave her a look that made it clear he'd rather still pace, but to his credit, he complied. He was like a furnace next to her, and she leaned into his warmth.

"We've been over this," she said calmly. She appreciated his protectiveness, but this was the only way forward. "We need the cipher. Zanri told us where it is, and I'm going to get it. I'll go in, debrief Jelisette, then find the key. I'll be long gone before she realizes I took anything. If she even realizes I took it."

Brynleigh had already stolen one thing from Jelisette. How difficult could it be to take another?

Besides, she had to do this. It would be a disservice to Zanri if they didn't use the information he'd given them. She was still hopeful they'd be able to get him out of prison. Somehow.

Ryker grabbed a black hoodie off the back of the couch and yanked it over his head.

"Jelisette is unstable," he snarled. "She fed you lies for six gods-damned years, and she's fucking dangerous."

He didn't want her to get hurt. That was sweet of him.

"I'm well aware." Brynleigh fiddled with the hem of her dark pink and black sweater. It hugged her curves and gave her confidence, which she desperately needed before going to see her Maker.

Merely calling Jelisette unstable was a disservice to instability. The older vampire was certifiably insane.

It was the Binding.

This past week, Brynleigh had researched Bound Partners. While scholars debated the specific adverse effects that would strike a vampire if their Bound Partner died, they all agreed that losing half of a bond would be mentally and physically devastating.

Something had irrevocably shattered in Jelisette when Emery Sylvain died. From a factual perspective, it was incredible that she was still alive and functioning. Half her heart and soul had perished with her partner.

Brynleigh glanced at Ryker. They weren't Bound, but she couldn't even fathom his death. She didn't even want to think about the fact that while fae were long-lived, they weren't truly immortal like vampires. She loved him so deeply that there would be no life without him.

At least now, Brynleigh understood why her Maker was so set against Representatives. It made sense, in a twisted sort of way, that Jelisette wanted to inflict harm upon the upper class after what they'd done to her.

If only she hadn't used Brynleigh as an unwitting pawn in her game.

"I can handle my Maker," Brynleigh said with more confidence than she felt. "I'm strong."

Ryker frowned. "I know you are. But this…"

"It's too late. She's expecting me."

"But—"

"No." Brynleigh waved her left arm, her bracelet dangling over her wrist. "You signed me up for this, remember? This is my job as your asset."

The words tasted like ash, and she hated them.

His fingers tightened around hers, and with his free hand, he lifted her chin until she looked at him. Storms flashed through his gaze.

"You are far more than an asset," Ryker growled. "You know that."

"I do." She understood that doing this was the price of her freedom, just as she understood that her Maker was waiting for her. "But Jelisette doesn't. And besides, she… trusts me. I think."

At least, Jelisette hadn't killed her. And she'd introduced Brynleigh to Dimitri. That meant something. Right ?

"She may trust you , but I don't fucking trust her ." Ryker's grip was just on this side of pain. "By the Black Sands and all that is holy, promise me you'll do everything to stay safe tonight. In and out. No dilly-dallying."

Ryker's magic rippled off him in waves, a mighty tempest running through the room.

Brynleigh dipped her head. "I promise I won't do anything stupid."

She didn't want to linger anywhere near her Maker.

Ryker didn't release her. Instead, he pulled her close and cupped her cheek.

"Listen to me. You're my wife, and I need you to make it out of there alive. Jelisette might have Made you, but you aren't hers. You're mine. "

Her heart raced at his words, but he wasn't done.

"This can't be the end. If she hurts you, I will make River's storm look like a trickle of water when I seek my retribution. Is that clear?"

The fae's possessive words should have probably turned Brynleigh off, but instead, her core twisted.

Brynleigh's fangs ached, and not for the first time, she wondered what Ryker would taste like. Would his blood be rich, deep, and full of the storms swirling in his gaze? Or perhaps smooth, with a touch of spice?

She'd never wanted to bite someone as much as she did right now.

She squeezed her thighs together. These were entirely inappropriate thoughts to have minutes before meeting her Maker.

What did it say about Brynleigh that her husband's show of possessive fae ownership turned her on? Probably nothing good.

A problem for another time.

"Yes, it's clear." She smiled. "Don't worry; I'll be quick."

He stared at her. "I'll always worry about you."

That was sweet. Unnecessary but sweet.

After all, Brynleigh was more than capable of keeping herself safe. She was a weapon, through and through.

Brynleigh smiled. "I'm capable of taking care of myself."

"I know you are, but it won't stop me from worrying," he said. " Whether it's tonight, when you're at the safe house, in three days, when you're at the next rebel meeting, or just when you're sleeping. I cannot stop worrying about you any more than I can stop my lungs from drawing air."

Gods, he was good with words.

"I appreciate that," she murmured. "I want to get this over with. The sooner I can be done with Jelisette, the better."

Brynleigh's shadows were already jumpy.

"We are in agreement there." Ryker's brows furrowed, and he stood. "About that…"

His voice trailed off, and his gaze locked onto the chessboard in the corner.

He eventually said, "The Reunion."

Brynleigh frowned. "Excuse me?"

He helped her stand and drew her close, wrapping his arms around her.

She burrowed her face into his chest, inhaling his thunderstorm and bergamot scent.

"The rebels," Ryker spoke into her hair, his fingers gripping her tightly as if he were afraid she would disappear on him. "If they were going to attack again, they might choose the Reunion."

"Okay…" She wasn't entirely sure where he was going with this.

"If you planted seeds with Jelisette tonight, encouraging the rebels to attack during the live stream, we could entrap the Black Night." He kissed her forehead. "For once, we could be on the offensive."

Her eyes widened, understanding flooding through her. "I see."

It sounded incredibly dangerous, but she couldn't deny that the thought of getting ahead of the rebels was appealing.

Ryker's tone shifted into the analytical one he used when they played chess. "It'll be busy, and we could slip extra guards into the party without being noticed."

Nodding, Brynleigh wrapped her mind around his plan. "That… could work."

It was unsafe and potentially deadly, but it made sense.

As if he knew where her mind had gone, Ryker tightened his grip around her .

"I'll keep you safe, sweetheart. Nothing will happen to you under my watch. But if we can draw out the rebels…"

"This might be the leg up you need to defeat them." It was a good, solid strategy. If it worked, it would save lives.

He dipped his chin, clearly deep in thought. "I'll talk to some people about adding extra security. Maybe I'll see if?—"

A resounding knock came from the front door, cutting him off.

Marlowe burst out of the kitchen where he'd been eating, his bark as loud as a drum.

"Ryker Elias Waterborn, open the door this instant!"

Brynleigh paled at the sound of her mother-in-law's voice.

"Fuck." Ryker glanced at the door. "Of all the times she could return from her trip, why now?"

Brynleigh wished she was surprised by the unfortunate timing, but she was a magnet for bad luck. Gods damn it all.

She had only had the displeasure of being in Tertia Waterborn's company twice—once at Waterborn House and once at the wedding—and quite frankly, that was enough for her.

She would rather step on a thousand tacks than deal with the water fae Representative tonight. Or ever again, if she was being completely honest.

Another knock. This one sounded like Tertia put her full force behind it.

"Let me in, son. The doorman confirmed you were here, and I won't leave until we speak."

Ryker rubbed his forehead and raised his voice. "Just a minute, Mother!"

Her response came less than a second later, her words as cold as ice as they swept through the apartment. "Don't you try to hide from me, Ryker. We will be speaking. Tonight."

Brynleigh had heard death threats that sounded warmer than her mother-in-law's voice.

Ryker looked simultaneously pained and exhausted as he kissed Brynleigh's cheek.

"You should probably go," he whispered. "I'll deal with her."

Thank all the gods .

"You don't mind?" Brynleigh asked, even as she drew shadows to her palms.

Ryker winced as his mother started banging on the door. "Not at all. Be safe. I'll be waiting for you."

Before he had gone to Sandhaven, those words would've sounded like a threat. Now, they warmed Brynleigh's heart.

Day by day, word by word, and action by action, the ocean that had once divided them was drying up.

Shrouded in shadows, she leaned over and brushed her lips over his. "Good luck, Ry."

Having previously been the recipient of Tertia Waterborn's ire, Brynleigh knew he needed it.

He smiled, but the expression didn't reach his eyes. "You, too, sweetheart."

Giving his hands one final squeeze, she let the shadows swallow her whole. The last thing she heard was Ryker saying, "Hello, Mother."

Once again, Brynleigh stood before her Maker.

The office seemed even creepier than before, the carpet redder, the walls tighter as she recounted the mission from the previous night, her hands clasped behind her back.

"Josef Longrun did not die with dignity," Brynleigh reported.

On the outside, she was calm and composed.

Inside, she was shivering. The air in the safe house was colder tonight than normal, and her shadows throbbed.

Brynleigh's stomach had twisted the moment she entered this place, and everything within her was screaming to leave. Her shadows throbbed, insisting danger was present.

She agreed with them. There was something wrong here. Something dangerous.

It was probably the ancient, deadly vampire sitting in front of her.

"That doesn't surprise me. Most men of his… caliber"—Jelisette's lip curled, revealing her sharp, deadly fangs—"do not walk into death's embrace with any form of honor. "

For once, Brynleigh agreed with her Maker.

She'd been in this line of work long enough to know that evil people were often the most cowardly. They wept, moaned, and screamed when faced with the same horrors they inflicted upon their victims.

Isvana-damned bastards.

"Yes, ma'am." Brynleigh tucked a lock of hair behind her ear even though her stomach was cramping. "He lived a dishonorable life, and he died in the same manner."

"I see." Jelisette canted her head and studied her progeny.

She drummed her nails on the desk, the tap, tap, tap the only sound in the office.

Even though Brynleigh was used to her Maker's oddities, the knowledge that this behavior was somewhat normal didn't ease the tension coursing through her. Every part of her was on edge as minutes dragged on.

Brynleigh needed to leave. Quieting her instincts and forcing herself to remain in this place of death was becoming more difficult by the second.

Eventually, the drumming ceased.

Another long minute later, Jelisette placed her palms flat on the desk.

"Do you have anything else to report?" She studied her manicured nails.

Brynleigh's shadows thrummed, and she drew in a deep breath. "I had a thought. About the Representatives."

When Brynleigh had first arrived, her Maker had launched into a tirade about the ruling class. Jelisette's hatred of the Representatives seemed to be getting worse with each passing day.

Honestly, some of Jelisette's points made sense, but Brynleigh would never admit to that. She'd think about them later when she was safe.

Her Maker bristled, dragging up her gaze.

Darkness gleamed in Jelisette's eyes as she snarled, "What about them?"

Brynleigh's heart thundered. Her neck ached in remembrance of the last time she stood in this office, and tears rushed to her eyes as she recalled the sensation of death coming for her, but she forced those emotions away.

Even though she hated this place, she couldn't show that right now. Tears would be seen as weakness, and she couldn't break down in front of Jelisette.

"I'm sure many Representatives will be at the Reunion. I know there were several mentions of planning an attack for next month, but if we,"—Brynleigh fucking hated using that word and associating herself with the rebels—"attack the Reunion, it would be devastating."

"Oh? Do tell."

In the same monotone tone she'd used when describing Josef's death, Brynleigh laid out why this plan would work.

When she was done, she closed her mouth and waited. She ignored the creepy painting, ignored the sensation of death sweeping over her, ignored everything except her Maker.

Please let this work.

Brynleigh wanted to bring good news to her fae captain.

Ten excruciating minutes later, the older vampire nodded.

"That's… not a bad idea. I'd have to speak with Dimitri…" The drumming picked up, and a faraway look came over Jelisette's eyes. "Yes. I like this. Did you come up with this plan on your own?"

"Yes," Brynleigh lied.

A raised brow. "Good girl."

Shivers ran through Brynleigh at her Maker's praise, and her stomach churned. The need to leave was stronger than ever.

Jelisette waved her hand in the air. "You may go. I have an appointment. I trust you can see yourself out?"

"Of course." Thank Isvana, the first part of Brynleigh's plan was over. "Before I leave, could I grab a book from my room? I left it here before the Choosing."

"Go ahead." Her sire gathered shadows around herself. "I'll message you."

Maybe Brynleigh's luck was turning. Maybe the sensation of death was nothing but a cold breeze.

Maybe.

She didn't want to wait and find out. Brynleigh left, hurrying through the safe house before Jelisette could decide there was another task she needed her to do.

Brynleigh's room looked identical to the day she left for the Choosing, but even it had a sense of eeriness that had never been there before.

This space had never really felt like home, but now it was like it belonged to a stranger. The woman she had been before Ryker was gone.

Brynleigh shivered as she looked over the space, still holding those tears at bay.

She hadn't lied to Jelisette. There was a book she wanted to grab—two, in fact. One was a guide to the history of vampires from the Rose Empire up to modern times. Jelisette had gifted Brynleigh the book upon her Making.

The second was a history of the fae's Great Migration across the Indigo Ocean. They weren't riveting reads like The Shadow and The Sparrow , but she'd read them many times over the past six years.

Brynleigh grabbed both books off the desk and the small black case she kept in the drawer, stuffing all three items in a tote bag.

Slinging it over her shoulder, she went back the way she came. At the door, Brynleigh paused and took in the bedroom one last time. She didn't think she'd ever return.

This was her past, and Ryker was her future.

Part of her wished she could regret her time in this place. She certainly regretted that her Maker had used and betrayed her. She even regretted that she'd been planning to kill Ryker.

But Brynleigh couldn't find it in herself to wish that she'd never been Made. It was only because of her Making that she'd met her husband. She never would've been Selected to participate in the Choosing otherwise, nor would she and Ryker have fallen in love.

Now that they were together, she couldn't imagine a life without him.

No, she would never regret anything that had brought her to Ryker, except for Chavin's destruction. She would give anything to turn back the hands of time and save her family and all the others who perished that watery night.

But since that was impossible, Brynleigh would do the next best thing and focus on stopping the Black Night. Her family was beyond saving, but the rebels had shown that they didn't care about the cost of a few lives to get their point across. Every time they attacked, they put someone's mother or father, someone's brother or sister, or someone's loved one at risk.

Those nameless people, those families that were still intact, were the reason Brynleigh was still fighting.

Problematic as the Representatives were—and they were fucking problematic, she wasn't ignoring that—the rebels were worse. Their solutions relied on death and destruction.

Brynleigh might not have been a political scientist, but even she knew that wasn't the right way to encourage change.

No. The Black Night needed to be stopped. That's why she was here.

At the reminder of her purpose, Brynleigh straightened. She couldn't waste any more time. Jelisette could be back any second.

Slipping out the door to her old room, she paused in the hallway and extended her senses. If she were anywhere else, she'd cloak herself in shadows, but those wouldn't protect her from her Maker.

She didn't hear anything out of the ordinary, but her skin crawled all the same. The air was cold, and death waited around every corner.

She was alone… for now. Brynleigh had no way of knowing how long Jelisette's appointment would be.

Thanking Isvana for vampiric speed, Brynleigh blurred through the hallway, ending up at the door to Zanri's office in the blink of an eye. She jiggled the doorknob, testing it.

Locked.

She'd expected that, but part of her had hoped she'd be wrong. All the doors in the safe house were warded against shadows, so there was only one thing left to do.

Reaching into the tote bag, she withdrew the black lock-picking set Zanri had gifted her several years ago.

Brynleigh popped it open, thankful that the feline shifter had taught her this particular skill. Her first attempt at lock-picking had been laughably horrible, but she'd practiced tirelessly until she could open any lock in under a minute .

Holding her breath, Brynleigh quickly set to work. The goddess of the moon must have been smiling down on her because seconds later, the locks tumbled.

She rose to her feet, opening the door.

Zanri's woodsy scent slammed into her like a ton of bricks. It was strong from the hours he'd spent in here, but behind it were traces of something cold and off.

This space, more than any other in the safe house, made Brynleigh feel sick. Or maybe it was just the memories of Zanri's broken body in Moonwater Prison that made holding back her tears even harder.

Either way, Brynleigh couldn't shake the feeling of wrongness burrowing its way into her. It was in the air.

In the house.

In her soul.

Goosebumps pebbled on her arms, and she shuddered.

Wrong.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. The rest of the safe house had felt strange, but this…

This room felt like death warmed over.

Urgency pulsed through her veins, even as her entire body protested her presence here.

She had to move quickly.

Hoping Zanri hadn't lied, Brynleigh dropped her tools in her bag and entered the office. Ignoring her shadows' warnings, she slid the door shut, leaving it open just a crack so she could hear if anyone came.

It was time to find a cipher.