Page 63 of Vengeance of the Gods

As the window descended, the bottom half of a man’s face came into view, the rest hidden by the shadow of his large rimmed hat. “What are you two doing back here?”

Vega looked around her, like she was looking for the problem he saw. “Oh, we just pulled over to sleep.”

“This isn’t a designated parking area, ma’am.” His hand rested on the open window.

Bridger watched his every move, tracking his other hand resting on his hip.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize we couldn’t with the semis parked right there. It was the darkest spot in the lot. We can mo⁠—”

“I’m going to need the both of you to get out of the vehicle.” He cut Vega off, his voice sounding too monotone to be normal.

Vega peeked over her shoulder. They’d both caught the tone.

“For what?” Bridger asked over Vega’s shoulder.

“Because I said so,” the cop responded, reaching inside for the handle.

Vega beat him to it, not opening the door just yet. “We aren’t trying to be a pain, but we honestly haven't done anything wrong. We’re just sleeping, and I’d be happy to move the car if it’s an issue.”

Bridger placed his hand on the small of her back, needing to be able to touch her to determine their next move. If only they were back in Tolevarre—then he’d be able to test another theory out. One he’d been ignoring for far too long. One I know isn’t a theory at all…

“I said get out of the vehicle,” the cop ordered, his hand opening the holster on his hip.

Vega popped the handle, putting her hands up close to her chest. “Okay, okay. We’ll get out.” She scooted forward, looking back to nod at Bridger.

He followed, attention fixed on the man who stood inches shorter than him.

“Backs against the car.” He crowded the personal bubble Bridger would have normally gutted someone for being in. His teeth gritted so hard Vega elbowed him in the side. “Are there any weapons inside?”

Bridger shook his head. “No.”

On the way out, he’d slipped his hand into the seatback pocket where he’d stashed the dagger, returning it to his waistband.

The cop ducked into the car, peering left and right, a long, skinny light illuminating wherever he pointed, with his other hand resting on what Bridger now recognized as a gun after Vega pointed the first few out on their travels. When he was deep enough inside the car where he couldn’t see them, Vega mouthed, Did you see his eyes?

He’d never gotten a chance to see them from the shadow of his hat.

Black, she mouthed again.

Vega rested her hand on Bridger’s lower back, settling at the exact place he’d stashed the dagger.

They didn’t have time to speculate what would happen next. The black eyes were hint enough that this was the curse’s doing.

The man backed out of the car, and the glow from the light across the lot shone in the right direction, putting a spotlight on the cop’s face.

All black eyes.

His hand placement shifted, Vega and Bridger’s senses connecting the moment his finger rested on his gun’s grip.

In seconds, Vega stared down its chamber, in the direct line of fire.

Bridger lunged, knocking the gun out of his hand. His quick reaction wasn’t fast enough to stop him from pulling the trigger.

Oh, so that’s what those do.

The sound it made was deafening.

The bullet blazed by Vega, narrowly missing her head. She dropped to the ground and covered her ears while the sound of the shot rang through the night air. Clutched in her hand at the side of her head was the dagger Chase had hand delivered back to them, the one she’d yanked from the back of Bridger’s pants.