Only Flynn had joined him, the male too busy seducing the female currently playing billiards with him to give Bryce more than a wary, pitying nod. She ignored it and slid onto the stool beside Ruhn, her dress squeaking against the leather. “Hi.”
Ruhn glanced sidelong at her. “Hey.”
The bartender strode over, brows raised in silent question. Bryce shook her head. She didn’t plan to be here long enough for a drink, water or otherwise. She wanted this over with as quickly as possible so she could go back home, take off her bra, and put on her sweats.
Bryce said, “I wanted to come by to say thanks.” Ruhn only stared at her. She watched the sunball game on the TV above the bar. “For the other day. Night. For looking out for me.”
Ruhn squinted at the tiled ceiling.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m just checking to see if the sky’s falling, since you’re thanking me for something.”
She shoved his shoulder. “Asshole.”
“You could have called or messaged.” He sipped from his whiskey.
“I thought it’d be more adultlike to do it face-to-face.”
Her brother surveyed her carefully. “How are you holding up?”
“I’ve been better.” She admitted, “I feel like a fucking idiot.”
“You’re not.”
“Oh yeah? Half a dozen people warned me, you included, to be on my guard around Hunt, and I laughed in all your faces.” She blew out a breath. “I should have seen it.”
“In your defense, I didn’t think Athalar was still that ruthless.” His blue eyes blazed. “I thought his priorities had shifted lately.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you and dear old Dad.”
“He visited you?”
“Yep. Told me I’m just as big a piece of shit as he himself is. Like father, like daughter. Like calls to like or whatever.”
“You’re nothing like him.”
“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Ruhn.” She tapped the bar. “Anyway, that’s all I came to say.” She noted the Starsword hanging at his side, its black hilt not reflecting the firstlights in the room. “You on patrol tonight?”
“Not until midnight.” With his Fae metabolism, the whiskey would be out of his system long before then.
“Well … good luck.” She hopped off the stool, but Ruhn halted her with a hand on her elbow.
“I’m having some people over at my place in a couple weeks to watch the big sunball game. Why don’t you come over?”
“Pass.”
“Just come for the first period. If it isn’t your thing, no problem. Leave when you want.”
She scanned his face, weighing the offer there. The hand extended.
“Why?” she asked quietly. “Why keep bothering?”
“Why keep pushing me away, Bryce?” His voice strained. “It wasn’t just about that fight.”
She swallowed, her throat thick. “You were my best friend,” she said. “Before Danika, you were my best friend. And I … It doesn’t matter now.” She’d realized back then that the truth didn’t matter—she wouldn’t let it matter. She shrugged, as if it’d help lighten the crushing weight in her chest. “Maybe we could start over. On a trial basis only.”
Ruhn started to smile. “So you’ll come watch the game?”
“Juniper was supposed to come over that day, but I’ll see if she’s up for it.” Ruhn’s blue eyes twinkled like stars, but Bryce cut in, “No promises, though.”
He was still grinning when she rose from her barstool. “I’ll save a seat for you.”
70
Fury was sitting on the couch when Bryce returned from the bar. In the exact spot where she’d gotten used to seeing Hunt.
Bryce chucked her keys onto the table beside the front door, loosed Syrinx upon her friend, and said, “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” Fury gave Syrinx a look that stopped him in his tracks. That made him sit his fluffy butt down on the carpet, lion’s tail swaying, and wait until she deigned to greet him. Fury did so after a heartbeat, ruffling his velvety, folded ears.
“What’s up?” Bryce toed off her heels, rotated her aching feet a few times, and reached back to tug at the zipper to her dress. Gods, it was incredible to have no pain in her leg—not even a flicker. She padded for her bedroom before Fury could answer, knowing she’d hear anyway.
“I got some news,” Fury said casually.
Bryce peeled off her dress, sighing as she took off her bra, and changed into a pair of sweats and an old T-shirt before pulling her hair into a ponytail. “Let me guess,” she said from the bedroom, shoving her feet into slippers, “you finally realized that black all the time is boring and want me to help you find some real-person clothes?”
A quiet laugh. “Smart-ass.” Bryce emerged from the bedroom, and Fury eyed her with that swift assassin’s stare. So unlike Hunt’s.
Even when she and Fury had been out partying, Fury never really lost that cold gleam. That calculation and distance. But Hunt’s stare—
She shut out the thought. The comparison. That roaring fire in her veins flared.
“Look,” Fury said, standing from the couch. “I’m heading out a few days early to the Summit. So I just thought you should know something before I go.”
“You love me and you’ll write often?”
“Gods, you’re the worst,” Fury said, running a hand through her sleek bob. Bryce missed the long ponytail her friend had worn in college. The new look made Fury seem even more lethal, somehow. “Ever since I met you in that dumb-ass class, you’ve been the worst.”
“Yeah, but you find it delightful.” Bryce aimed for the fridge.
A huff. “Look, I’m going to tell you this, but I want you to first promise me that you won’t do anything stupid.”
Bryce froze with her fingers grasping the handle of the fridge. “As you’ve told me so often, stupid is my middle name.”
“I mean it this time. I don’t even think anything can be done, but I need you to promise.”
“I promise.”
Fury studied her face, then leaned against the kitchen counter. “Micah gave Hunt away.”
That fire in her veins withered to ash. “To whom?”
“Who do you think? Fucking Sandriel, that’s who.”
She couldn’t feel her arms, her legs. “When.”
“You said you wouldn’t do anything stupid.”
“Is asking for details stupid?”
Fury shook her head. “This afternoon. That bastard knew giving Hunt back to Sandriel was a bigger punishment than publicly crucifying him or shoving his soul into a box and dumping it into the sea.”
It was. For so many reasons.
Fury went on, “She and the other angels are heading to the Summit tomorrow afternoon. And I have it on good authority that once the meeting’s done next week, she’ll go back to Pangera to keep dealing with the Ophion rebels. With Hunt in tow.”
And he’d never be free again. What Sandriel would do to him … He deserved it. He fucking deserved everything.
Bryce said, “If you’re so concerned I’ll do something stupid, why tell me at all?”
Fury’s dark eyes scanned her again. “Because … I just thought you should know.”
Bryce turned to the fridge. Yanked it open. “Hunt dug his own grave.”
“So you two weren’t …”
“No.”
“His scent is on you, though.”
“We lived in this apartment together for a month. I’d think it’d be on me.”
She’d handed over a hideous number of silver marks to have his blood removed from the couch. Along with all traces of what they’d done there.
A small, strong hand slammed the fridge door shut. Fury glared up at her. “Don’t bullshit me, Quinlan.”
“I’m not.” Bryce let her friend see her true face. The one her father had talked about. The one that did not laugh and did not care for anybody or anything. “Hunt is a liar. He lied to me.”
“Danika did some fucked-up stuff, Bryce. You know that. You always knew it and laughed it off, looked the other way. I’m not so sure Hunt was lying about that.”
Bryce bared her teeth. “I’m over it.”
“Over what?”
“All of it.” She yanked open the fridge again, nudging Fury out of the way. To her surprise, Fury let her. “Why don’t you go back to Pangera and ignore me for another two years?”
“I didn’t ignore you.”
“You fucking did,” Bryce spat. “You talk to June all the time, and yet you dodge my calls and barely reply to my messages?”
“June is different.”
“Yeah, I know. The special one.”