Page 114 of Vengeance of the Gods

Bridger stood on wobbly legs, feeling like his body wasn’t his own.

Bodies of his soldiers littered the common room, the mess hall, and training pits. People lay in their beds, with varying stages of awareness on their faces.

Some must have tried to flee, lying on the floor close to their beds. Many’s eyes were wide open, probably waking just before their slaughter.

The bodies were still warm. Bridger had missed the massacre by no more than a half hour.

Trailing down the hall to his room, Bridger swung the door open and peeked inside. Nothing was out of place.

When he reached Meyer’s door, Bridger had to pause, fighting against the roll of his stomach. He swallowed down the bile crawling up his throat and twisted the knob, toeing it open.

Meyer’s room was untouched.

Bridger dropped to the chair by the door, hiding his head in his hands. “Meyer’s alive,” he said out loud, even though he knew it might not be true.

Meyer was in danger, regardless. Hopefully he knew it and had time to get out of Marlena’s warpath.

She would stop at nothing and no one. Killing the bonded wasn’t possible—but she’d kill everyone else to prove a point, leaving no one but the five gods alive.

Bridger checked every room, searching for anyone who might have survived.

Marlena left no one. She probably did it one by one, making the others watch.

Bridger was the only heartbeat left in Vincere.

He physically hurt, aching for the lives lost. These were the feelings he’d learned to block out when he first left Vega—the pain he felt every single day knowing what he’d done to the only girl he’d ever loved…

He would never be able to hide behind the man he’d pretended to be again. His shield would never be strong enough to push her out twice.

Bridger’s heightened senses caught the sound of boot steps coming from overhead. He jumped from the seat in Meyer’s room and sprinted down the hall to the stairwell. He took the steps two at a time and flung the door leading to the next level open.

The door stopped short, slamming into someone, followed by an unmistakable deep groan of pain.

“Owww,” Halo whined, rubbing the already forming bump on his forehead.

Seeing a living person felt like he’d been pulled from the undertow of furious waters.

“Halo, thank fucking gods.” Bridger let out a breath and pulled the young man into an unexpected hug. He stood only a few inches shorter than Bridger but was significantly smaller in stature.

Halo went rigid, patting Bridger on the back awkwardly.

Bridger tensed and backed away. “Did you just pat me on the back?”

Halo nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes. I-you caught me off guard. You don’t hug people!”

Bridger cleared his throat and flexed his fists at his side. “I’ve had a hand in training every single soldier who calls Vincere home, and now they’re all dead. Excuse me for being relieved to find someone I care about alive.”

“Who’s all dead?” He asked softly, peeking around Bridger’s shoulder like he’d be able to see them all through the walls.

Bridger’s relief didn’t last long, suspicion taking its place at Halo’s response. “What are you doing here, Halo?” He gripped the hilt of the dagger sheathed on his thigh.

Halo noted Bridger’s hand placement, having the sense to look nervous. “I’ve been here. I was one of the many who stayed behind when Meyer gave us the option. He said Vincere was yours and anyone who didn’t want to fight beside you was to leave and head to Fortis with him. They’ve been gone for a few days now…”

All of Vincere was Bridger’s. Every single slaughtered soldier had chosen to fight with Bridger and had been killed for it.

Marlena took out the rebellion’s forces—all by herself.

“Why weren’t you here during the attack?” Bridger pressed.