Page 50 of Vengeance of the Gods

At least we’re in this fucked-up mess together.

20

It wasn’t creepy to watch someone sleep who’d nearly been choked to death.

Vega had died before, but Bridger had never felt what he had this time. Not even when he’d been the one to do it himself.

He’d been halfway back from getting them food when the tingle around his wrist started. When he got to the diner, he realized he had no idea what he was supposed to order, but at least the older woman running the place was nice enough. It took her a minute to warm up, but eventually she seemed to feel bad for him as he stared at the menu like he didn’t know how to read.

She’d guessed he “wasn’t from around here” and had the cooks whip up two house specials.

From one second to the next, the tingle of the brand went from normal to searing pain shooting up his arm. It felt like fingers sliding around his neck, trying to choke the life out of him.

Bridger hadn’t known whose throat he’d slashed until the body fell to the floor.

But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

Actually, he might have made it slower and more painful had he known it was Chase. So if anything, he’d gotten lucky his death was quick and painless.

Vega lay curled up in the large bed, wrapped in a blanket like a cocoon. She’d hardly been able to get herself out of the shower once the adrenaline wore off. Bridger had carried her to the bed, stripped her of her wet bra and underwear—respectfully—and threw the large grey T-shirt she’d stolen at the truck stop on.

She had no idea what she’d stolen until getting back in the car with it.

Bridger had laughed until Vega threatened to kick him out and leave him on the side of the road.

He couldn’t see the storm cloud with blue lightning because of the blanket wrapped around her, but he knew it was there. If he weren’t so worried, Bridger might have chuckled about it again.

Vega had been sleeping for a few hours, and even though he knew he was going to get a fucking ear full when she woke up about how they needed to leave, he couldn’t bring himself to wake her—not yet.

Bridger had no idea when the last time she’d actually slept was. She said she got a few hours while he was sleeping on the plane, but that wasn’t enough for what she’d just gone through.

Across the room, Bridger sat in a chair, his elbows resting on his knees with his head in his hands. Exhaustion started to wear on him too, but he couldn’t let himself sleep.

Not just because of the dreams, but because he kept telling himself he was keeping an eye on Vega, making sure she continued breathing and no one else snuck in to slit their throats in retaliation.

Bridger wasn’t going to take any chances, not willing to push their luck and find out what would happen if they died on Earth.

Not when my life is linked to hers. Sometimes he tried to convince himself he acted only out of self preservation, even when he knew that wasn’t the case at all. Not anymore.

So much had changed… and Bridger was ready to find out where he fit in the dawn of a new age.

Vega mumbled in her sleep, twitching, but never woke.

Bridger rose from the chair, stretching his arms over his head to release some of the pressure in his middle back. As much as he wanted to avoid the room where Vega’s dead ex-husband was, he couldn’t help but feel like he needed to check if the body was still there.

Of course the fucking body is still there… Where else would it be?

Bridger rolled his eyes, opening the bathroom door barely hanging on its hinges to clean floors, no blood, and a missing body.

A rush of cold paralyzed him, his veins turning to ice. This had to be a dream.

He forced himself to take a step inside, turning around like maybe he’d missed the dead body and pool of blood. “What the fuck,” he whispered, running a hand over his head, holding the fallen strands of hair back.

Well, this is going to be a problem.

As much as he hated to do it, Bridger had to wake Vega. He returned to the main room and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Vega.” Bridger ran a hand up and down her arm gently, trying not to startle her.

She groaned, pulling a pillow over her head.