“Bryce,” Hunt tried again as she wrapped her arms around Fury’s tiny waist. “Your heart was already so broken, and the last thing I ever wanted to do was—”

She didn’t look back at him as the wind whipped her hair and the wave skimmer launched into the rain and darkness.

“BRYCE!” Hunt roared.

She didn’t look back.

Chapter Sixty-Seven

67

Ruhn was in the apartment lobby when Fury dropped her off. Tharion left them at the docks, saying he was going to help haul in the seized synth shipment, and Fury departed fast enough that Bryce knew she was heading out to make sure the Viper Queen didn’t abscond with any of it, either.

Ruhn said nothing as they rode the elevator.

But she knew Fury had told him. Summoned him here.

Her friend had been messaging someone on the walk back from the docks. And she’d spied Flynn and Declan standing guard on the rooftops of her block, armed with their long-range rifles.

Her brother didn’t speak until they were in the apartment, the place dark and hollow and foreign. Every piece of clothing and gear belonging to Hunt was like an asp, ready to strike. That bloodstain on the couch was the worst of all.

Bryce made it halfway across the great room before she puked all over the carpet.

Ruhn was instantly there, his arms and shadows around her.

She could feel her sobs, hear them, but they were distant. The entire world was distant as Ruhn picked her up and carried her to the couch, keeping away from that spot where she’d yielded herself entirely to Hunt. But he made no comment about the bloodstain or any lingering scent.

It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

No better than a bunch of drug addicts. That’s what Hunt had implied. She and Danika had been no better than two addicts, inhaling and snorting everything they could get their hands on.

It wasn’t like that. Hadn’t ever been like that. It had been stupid, but it had been for fun, for distraction and release, never for something dark—

She was shaking so hard she thought her bones might snap.

Ruhn’s grip on her tightened, like he could keep her together.

Hunt must have known she was getting close to learning the truth when she’d shown him the trial videos. So he’d spun her lies about a happy ending for the two of them, a future for them, had distracted her with his mouth and hands. And then, as one of the triarii, he’d gotten the alert from her old landlord about her request to visit the apartment—and snuck out, letting her think he was asleep. A bolt of his lightning had probably sparked the flame.