Page 19 of Vengeance of the Gods

Vega had learned the bare minimum Italian over the last month, but she understood most of what the woman said, telling a much different story than Bridger.

She dropped her hands from Bridger’s face, holding them over her heart with a gasp as the woman spoke. “My goodness. Thank you for helping him.” Vega reached for Bridger’s hand.

“He needs medical attention!” the woman continued to yell. She was panicking, rightfully so, after seeing a man drop from the sky in front of her.

We have to get out. Bridger glanced down at her hand, then up at her quickly before his fingers slid between hers. It was as if he understood the urgency in her look without hearing the thoughts in her head.

“Is he hurt?” another voice asked.

“What happened?” Others joined in.

Vega laughed, pulling Bridger along as they barged their way through the crowd. “He’s fine, really. Just a little clumsy.”

A whistle from an approaching officer made a warning alarm go off in Vega’s mind. A few onlookers pointed at them, drawing the police’s attention.

Vega didn’t hesitate. As soon as they broke through, she dropped Bridger’s hand. “Run!”

Bridger kept pace beside her, hardly breaking a sweat while Vega pushed herself enough to make her lungs burn.

She hadn’t gotten much exercise while here on Earth and felt it as they rounded the corner down a long roadway with lots of traffic and people; people who gawked at the two weaving between pedestrians and stopped cars.

They needed to get out of sight. Vega checked over her shoulder before slowing them to a walk and pulling Bridger by the crook of his elbow into an alleyway.

When they were deep enough to be out of sight from the road, Vega let go of Bridger’s arm and spun around.

He smiled and started to say something, but Vega wasn’t having it. As happy as she was to see him, it wasn’t to see him… It was because seeing him meant she was right—it meant she wasn’t going crazy, remembering a life that never happened.

It had happened. All of it. The lives. The memories. Everything.

Vega had been right.

She’d tricked the fucking curse.

And this life, the things happening in it—the headaches, the therapy for a TBI, Chase’s reaction to finding her with the broken brooch, were all because of the curse.

It was still trying to take her from herself.

Vega slammed him against the alley’s stone wall, pushing him back again when he tried to step forward.

Bridger threw his hands up in surrender, looking down his chest at her. “Easy, Kitten.”

“What are you doing here?” she spat.

Bridger faked a gasp, acting hurt. “What happened to the girl who was so happy to see me that I got a hug?” He crowded her space, leaning forward.

Vega pushed at his chest again. He gave up quicker than she anticipated, letting his butt rest against the stone with his hands still up. “Why are you here, Bridger?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I came for you.” He pointed at her, letting his hands fall to his side from there. “Good to see you still have your memories. Don’t you think maybe it would’ve been easier to, oh, I don’t know, walk back through the fucking portal instead of risking yourself and your memories again?”

Vega stalled for a moment, her eyebrows drawing together. “What?” She paused to gauge his seriousness. She quickly realized he was dead fucking serious. “It doesn’t work like that. I have to reset. The curse has to reset… That’s the whole poi—I’m not getting into that with you right now.” She shook her head, holding her hand up and wagging her finger like Bridger was a child in trouble. “How did you get here?”

Bridger reached out, grabbed her finger, and gently pushed her hand to her chest. “None of that.” His voice had a deep and commanding rumble. “I came through a portal.” Bridger’s eyes flicked to her neck, and she watched his emotions flip as quick as a light switch. In less than a second, Bridger went from thoughtful to downright scary. “Who the fuck choked you?”

There was no stopping him from pushing off the wall now. Vega took a few steps back as he stalked her, gaining ground quicker than she could flee with his long legs. “What?” Vega asked, taken aback.

A mark must already be forming from Chase’s attack.

“Your neck. There are fingerprint bruises forming on your neck.” Bridger was fighting to keep his cool, but the words spoken through gritted teeth gave him away.