Page 38 of Vengeance of the Gods

No one could have predicted what time would do to two lovers destined to fall.

Vega lost track of time, focusing on the feeling of her fingers brushing through Bridger’s hair and the steady breaths coming from his lips.

The calmness of the moment threatened to lull her to sleep, but before she could fall, Bridger jumped, sitting straight up, with panic flaring behind his eyes.

Vega stared at him, her lips parting to speak, but nothing came out. Bridger’s eyes fell to them and then darted back up.

The cabbie slapped his hand against the front passenger seat headrest, getting their attention. “Here” was all he said.

Vega nodded, not looking at him, her focus on Bridger and the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

The dreams. He can’t sleep at all without them.

Bridger snapped out of his trance and exited the cab. Vega handed the driver some money and followed Bridger into the night air without her change.

Bridger’s fingers were connected behind his neck, head turned to the early morning sky.

“Are you⁠—”

“I’m fine,” he cut her off bluntly, continuing to keep his distance.

An ache filled Vega’s chest… and it shouldn’t. He and Vega weren’t friends. They weren’t even officially allies. His tone shouldn’t affect her, but it did.

She was instantly mad at herself for being nice to him, for starting to feel something other than betrayal when she looked at him.

“Perfect,” she sneered. “Give me your dagger.” She scanned for anyone paying them too close attention.

“What?” Bridger asked, the confusion evident on his face.

“Give. Me. Your. Dagger,” she said, slower this time. As if he hadn’t heard her and that was why she was repeating herself.

“I’m not⁠—”

“Yes, you are. You can’t take it with you.” Vega held her hand out, waiting for him to obey. She raised her scarred brow and wiggled her fingers—this wasn’t up for discussion. “Why, Bridger? Why do you have to make my life so fucking difficult?” Her patience was running thin.

Bridger heaved a sigh, looked around to ensure no one saw, pulled the dagger from its spot in his waistband, and handed it over.

Vega slipped the long blade up her coat sleeve, hiding it from plain sight, and walked it over to the garbage, where she discarded it like it was nothing more than a piece of trash she was tossing before entering the airport.

“Pull yourself together,” she told him when she was back by his side. “Shit could get a whole lot worse than some nightmares if this goes wrong.”

She shoved everything she had, which wasn’t much, into her pocket and headed towards security. Inside her coat, Vega had both their passports, a little bit of cash, her almost dead cell phone, and melted lip balm.

Bridger had a small bag from home with a change of clothes and other miscellaneous items, but he promised there was nothing inside that could be used as a weapon.

The line for security was long, people talking of delays and cancellations to flights headed to the U.S. Great. Vega’s hands started to sweat as the line moved faster than she’d anticipated it would. “If I tell you to run, we run, understand?”

Bridger nodded, his lips set in a firm line.

“Straight to the doors we just came in through.”

“Vega, relax. It’s going to be okay.” He stepped close behind her, leaning over her shoulder so no one but Vega could hear him. “The guy said they were real names and real passports with our pictures now. Plus, whatever that other guy with the screen and keyboard said about the system they used being government official. Everyone seemed pretty chill about the whole thing.” Bridger hooked his thumbs under the straps of his backpack and returned to scanning the airport like a museum.

Not a worry in the fucking world…

Every step closer she took to the front of the line, Vega felt like she was going to barf all over the floor.

“How are you so chill right now?” Vega spun, facing him with a bubble of annoyance churning her stomach.