38. Is it Over?

CHAPTER 38

Is it Over?

" N o!" Ryker roared.

The hands restraining him tightened, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered at all except for Brynleigh.

He thrashed and kicked and pulled. His shoulder burned, the pain getting worse with every passing second, but he could be on fire right now, and he wouldn't care.

He had to get to her.

Brynleigh had fought her way to him. She couldn't die now. What kind of cruel fate was this?

Ryker had promised he'd always be by her side, and he was a fae of his words.

So, he fought.

He dug within himself, and despite the prohiberis blocking his magic, despite the pain and agony and exhaustion running through him, he pulled up every last ounce of strength in his possession.

As Jelisette lowered the stake, he funneled every bit of power he had into breaking free from his captors. He shoved his arms up, slamming his good fist into the rebel's nose. It broke, blood gushing, and Ryker used the commotion to push the armed rebel away.

Ryker barreled to his feet. His arm moved oddly, and he was pretty certain it was broken in several places, but he didn't care. He raced across the room towards his wife.

He was vaguely aware of the other men yelling and using his escape as a distraction to fight back against the rebels, but he couldn't focus on them.

A gun went off. Then, two more. Someone screamed.

None of it registered.

He moved as quickly as his fae feet would allow, throwing himself over the table.

The older vampire didn't seem to notice.

"No!" he yelled again.

Finally, Jelisette looked up. Her eyes sparked with alarm before hardening once again.

It was just a moment, but it was enough.

Ryker grabbed Jelisette, one arm wrapping around her neck and the other around her middle. He landed awkwardly behind her, the weight of his body enough to shift her back a few inches. It wasn't much, but it bought Brynleigh distance between her and the stake.

"Fight, love!" he yelled as the older vampire screamed and thrashed against his hold.

Jelisette was far stronger than any other vampire Ryker had ever encountered.

Brynleigh didn't hesitate. Hands still bound by shadows in a praying position, she grabbed the stake and ripped it from her Maker's hand.

Time slowed to a crawl.

With a warrior's cry, Brynleigh plunged the stake into Jelisette's heart.

Fighting continued behind them, but Ryker didn't pay any attention to it.

A long, undying howl like a bitter winter's wind came from Jelisette's lips. The sound sent shivers cascading down Ryker's spine.

Jelisette clawed at the stake buried deep in her heart, but Brynleigh's grip held firm.

Ryker reached around the ancient vampire with his good arm and clasped his hand over Brynleigh's. Her hand, cold beneath his, tightened around the stake. He grunted, flipping all three of them.

Jelisette was on the ground beneath them, and they kneeled on either side of the evil woman.

The howl went on and on and on.

Death had never taken so long to claim its prize.

Black lines spiderwebbed from the stake, covering Jelisette from head to toe. Skin that had been fair and smooth moments ago was now gray and sunken. Silky hair turned to straw. Life-filled eyes drained. She opened her mouth wider, the howl morphing into a never-ending scream. She slashed at them both, her movements brittle and unsteady.

And then, after what felt like a lifetime, Jelisette fell silent. Her hand froze, outstretched towards the heavens, and one last breath slipped from her cracked, ashen lips. The shadows binding Brynleigh's wrists together vanished.

In the sudden silence, Ryker's heart was a booming drum in his ears.

Brynleigh whimpered, "She's… dead."

Her white-knuckled fingers were still clasped over the stake, along with Ryker's.

He stared at the shriveled corpse of the woman who had made their lives a living hell. This was the kind of death there was no coming back from.

"Yes, she is."

A horrible death for a horrible woman.

A tear slid down Brynleigh's cheek.

"She'll be with him now," she murmured. "Emery. I think… I think she loved him. Or whatever kind of love she was capable of feeling."

Ryker grunted in agreement, and for several long minutes, neither of them moved.

Someone touched Ryker's shoulder. He looked up and met Nikhail's eyes. A line of blood streaked across the air fae's face, and a gash slashed across his left shoulder, but he appeared to be in one piece.

"It's time to go," Nikhail said.

Ryker closed his eyes. "Thanks for coming, Nik."

He didn't even want to think about what would've happened if they hadn't arrived.

"Thank your wife." The air fae gestured to Brynleigh. "She fought well. "

A tremor ran through Brynleigh at Nikhail's words. She was still gripping the stake.

Ryker slowly peeled his wife's fingers off the weapon, wrapping them in his hand instead.

"Let's get out of here, love."

She didn't fight him as he rose and tugged her away from the dead woman.

It was only then that Ryker took in the scene around them.

Jelisette wasn't the only one Death had visited.

Of the nine captive men from the Choosing, seven were standing. All were injured. Only one member of the Black Night remained alive, a man Therian was pinning to the ground. The dragon shifter had a gun pointed at the rebel's head.

Therian met Ryker's eye, and the two men communicated silently.

The dragon shifter nodded. Hauling the rebel to his feet, he ordered, "Get us the fuck out of here, now."

Exhaustion had woven itself into the very fabric of Ryker's being. An entire day had passed since their rag-tag group had stumbled out of the rebels' compound, bloody, bruised, and broken…

But alive.

Thank the Blessed Black Sands for that.

Ryker hadn't released Brynleigh's hand. Not as they staggered out of the building, not while they debriefed with the backup Nikhail had called, who had just gotten to the scene, and not even when they were taken to the army base.

He wasn't sure he could ever let go of his wife again. He'd come so close to losing her.

As soon as they arrived on the base, soldiers cut off their prohiberis cuffs.

A witch came in and healed Ryker's shoulder and arm. The process was unpleasant, but the break was set and healing.

Then, the questioning began. Representatives, military personnel, and even the Chancellor filtered through the rooms where they were keeping the survivors.

There were so many questions—too many, even for Ryker.

What happened?

How were you taken?

Who was there?

And then the questions got increasingly personal.

Tell us about the Black Night.

You got your wife out of The Pit. Why?

Explain the deal you made with Myrrah Challard.

How did you come to be involved with the rebels?

Tell us about Horizon.

The questions were never-ending. Just when he thought they'd be done, someone else walked in. Ryker was over this.

It wasn't until they'd started directing questions at Brynleigh that Ryker snapped, though.

General Whitecliff, an Earth Elf who'd served in the army for decades, sat across from the couple. Her fiery hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and she looked every bit the fierce soldier Ryker had heard her to be. Perhaps at another time, he'd enjoy speaking with the elf, but seeing as how she was interrogating them—because that's what this had fucking become—he was in no mood for pleasantries.

"Mrs. Waterborn, I need you to detail your role in this for me again." General Whitecliff's voice brokered no room for discussion.

Brynleigh sighed. This was the third time she'd been asked this question. "As I've already told your colleagues, I don't have a role in this. I was helping you."

The Earth Elf tilted her head, and her emerald eyes gleamed. "Is that so?"

"Yes," Brynleigh said. "It is."

A long moment passed in terse silence before the general said, "Then I'm sure you wouldn't mind?—"

"Enough!" Ryker slammed his free hand on the table. "My wife saved us all. If you have a fucking problem with that, you can take it up with me. Later ."

He stood, tugging Brynleigh with him .

"Captain Waterborn—" General Whitecliff started.

"No. We've been here long enough. I'm taking my wife home. She needs to shower and rest." They both did. "If you have further questions, call Representative Waterborn. I'm sure she'd be willing to set up an appointment."

At the mention of Ryker's mother, the general paled.

Ryker rarely enjoyed his mother's cold-hearted, difficult nature, but sometimes, it came in handy—not that he would ever tell her that.

Maybe it was the blood covering his wife, or maybe it was the look on Ryker's face, but either way, no one tried to stop them as they left the interrogation room.

Ryker led Brynleigh through the military buildings to the underground parking garage. He commandeered the keys of an emergency vehicle from a soldier who quaked when they saw Brynleigh's bloody face.

It wasn't until they were alone and standing in front of the sleek black vehicle with tinted windows that Brynleigh exhaled.

"Is it over?" She raised her black eyes to his, exhaustion etched into her face. "Are we done?"

After everything that had just happened, there was no way anyone could question Brynleigh's loyalties. She'd saved the family members of several Representatives and killed a high-ranking rebel within the Black Night.

Ryker dipped his chin, drew her into his arms, and confidently said, "Yes, love, we're done."