Page 42 of Vengeance of the Gods

A happy-sounding beep played overhead, and a speaker crackled to life. “Good evening, everyone, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to make this announcement, but unfortunately, due to storms wracking through the central United States, we have been rerouted to Chicago O’Hare International Airport. We apologize to those whose final destination was LAX, but please know our first priority is always your safety. Our gate agents will get you rescheduled and home as soon as the weather clears. I anticipate we’ll have some bumpy air on the way down, so I’ll be turning the Seatbelt sign on for the remainder of the flight and asking your flight attendants to secure the cabin for landing as we make our final descent into Chicago. Sit tight and feel free to use your small handheld devices to make arrangements using our free in-flight WiFi.”

Oh, it’s about to get bad again.

“Bridger, these dreams⁠—”

“Are mine to deal with.” He unbuckled himself and stood to shuffle his way into the aisle, beelining straight to what he assumed was the bathroom with the little people on the light above the door.

Bridger fumbled with how to open the door and then with the stupid fucking lock—because what kind of lock is this?—turning to the sink to press every single button around it until he got the water to turn on.

Fuck, this bathroom is small. Bridger had never been claustrophobic until now.

He felt larger than life trying to bend down to splash water on his face, washing the very real feel of the dream from his skin.

Water dripped down Bridger’s, his dark eyes glaring back at him in the mirror. The lies and deceit, the reason he’d come to Earth, stared him right in the face.

He’d told Marlena he was here to make Vega fall in love with him… but what happened if he was the one who fell instead?

17

Welcome to Chicago, the sign above their heads read—they were officially on the same continent as the portal.

Vega had somehow managed not to panic or pass out while going through Passport Control, even though their flight had been rerouted to Chicago. It was like this life wanted to go on one last tour of Earth.

“Holy shit, holy fucking shit. We did it,” Vega muttered to herself, her heart beating so hard she could feel it in her temples. Her adrenaline plummeted, leaving behind a tight chest and a lump in her throat.

Since the plane, Vega had only spoken to Bridger if absolutely necessary, and apparently, he was done with the cold shoulder.

“I gotta know, do you plan on ignoring me for the rest of the trip or the rest of our lives?” Bridger cocked his head to the side, not looking where he was going.

“The rest of our lives if I could, but that doesn’t seem possible,” she grumbled.

“Is this all because I wouldn’t tell you about my dream?” he asked, squinting like that was the craziest thing he’d ever heard.

“No, I’m just back to realizing I can’t stand you and how you like to play by Bridger’s rules. Kinda feels like Marlena’s rubbed off on you.” Vega dodged a man barreling towards them with his bag rolling behind.

Bridger grabbed her arm, stopping them in the middle of the busy airport. “I am nothing like her. I will never be anything like her.”

If looks could kill… I’d be a goner.

“Then tell me, Bridger, what was the dream about?” Vega asked, knowing she wasn’t going to get a straight answer.

Bridger ran a hand through his hair, frustration setting his brows. “I don’t want to talk about the dreams.”

“Of course you don’t. You don’t want to tell me anything I want to know." Vega yanked her arm from his grip, taking notice of the few people staring at them. “How convenient.”

“That’s not true⁠—”

“If you don’t want to tell me about the dreams, then tell me why Marlena would let you come here to get me. I know it’s not out of the goodness of her heart.”

Bridger said nothing.

Between his silence, her mixed feelings, and their constant back and forth, Vega was on her way to a panic attack.

Up ahead, there was a private corner behind some chairs. Vega beelined for it—she needed a minute to collect herself. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes to focus on the rise and fall of her chest, of the breath she was using to clear the static in her head.

The hardest part was over, but Vega felt like she was finally letting everything they’d done hit her. She dug her nails into her thighs, letting the pain remind her she was alive—this wasn’t a dream.

She knew Bridger loomed over her without having to open her eyes. Just like she could always sense what he was going to do. They were connected in ways both had yet to understand—because they hadn’t had time. Because Bridger betrayed her. He’d left her.