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“And you think I’m behind it?” A bitter smile curved the angular, harsh face. Hunt tensed. “I don’t know what year it is, girl. And you think I’m somehow able to make outside contact?”
“What about your followers?” Hunt said carefully. “Would they have done it in your name?”
“Why bother?” Briggs reclined in his chair. “I failed them. I failed our people.” He nodded toward Bryce. “And failed people like you—the undesirables.”
“You never represented me,” Bryce said quietly. “I abhor what you tried to do.”
Briggs laughed, a broken rasp. “When the Vanir tell you you’re not good enough for any job because of your human blood, when males like this asshole next to you just see you as a piece of ass to be fucked and then discarded, when you see your mother—it is a human mother for you, isn’t it? It always is—being treated like trash … You’ll find those self-righteous feelings fading real fast.”
She refused to reply. To think about the times she’d seen her mother ignored or sneered at—
Hunt said, “So you’re saying you’re not behind this bombing.”
“Again,” Briggs said, tugging on his shackles, “the only people I see on a daily basis are the ones who take me apart like a cadaver, and then stitch me up again before nightfall, their medwitches smoothing everything away.”
Her stomach churned. Even Hunt’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.
“Your followers wouldn’t have considered bombing the nightclub in revenge?”
Briggs demanded, “Against who?”
“Us. For investigating Danika Fendyr’s murder and looking for Luna’s Horn.”
Briggs’s blue eyes shuttered. “So the assholes in the 33rd finally realized I didn’t kill her.”
“You haven’t been officially cleared of anything,” Hunt said roughly.
Briggs shook his head, staring at the wall to his left. “I don’t know anything about Luna’s Horn, and I’m sure as shit no Keres soldier did either, but I liked Danika Fendyr. Even when she busted me, I liked her.”
Hunt stared at the gaunt, haunted man—a shell of the powerfully built adult he’d been two years ago. What they were doing to him in that prison … Fucking Hel.
Hunt could take a few guesses about the manner of torture. The memories of it being inflicted upon him still dragged him from sleep.
Bryce was blinking at Briggs. “What do you mean, you liked her?”
Briggs smiled, savoring Quinlan’s surprise. “She circled me and my agents for weeks. She even met with me twice. Told me to stop my plans—or else she’d have to bring me in. Well, that was the first time. The second time she warned me that she had enough evidence against me that she had to bring me in, but I could get off easy if I admitted to my plotting and ended it then and there. I didn’t listen then, either. That third time … She brought her pack, and that was that.”
Hunt reined in his emotions, setting his features into neutrality.
“Danika went easy on you?” Bryce’s face had drained of color. It took a surprising amount of effort not to touch her hand.
“She tried to.” Briggs ran gnarled fingers down his pristine jumpsuit. “For a Vanir, she was fair. I don’t think she necessarily disagreed with us. With my methods, yes, but I thought she might have been a sympathizer.” He surveyed Bryce again with a starkness that had Hunt’s hackles rising.
Hunt suppressed a growl at the term. “Your followers knew this?”
“Yes. I think she even let some of them get away that night.”
Hunt blew out a breath. “That is a big fucking claim to make against an Aux leader.”
“She’s dead, isn’t she? Who cares?”
Bryce flinched. Enough so that Hunt didn’t hold back his growl this time.
“Danika wasn’t a rebel sympathizer,” Bryce hissed.
Briggs looked down his nose at her. “Not yet, maybe,” he agreed, “but Danika could have been starting down that path. Maybe she saw how her pretty, half-breed friend was treated by others and didn’t like it too much, either.” He smiled knowingly when Bryce blinked at his correct guess regarding her relationship to Danika. The emotions he’d probably read in her face.
Briggs went on, “My followers knew Danika was a potential asset. We’d discussed it, right up until the raid. And that night, Danika and her pack were fair with us. We fought, and even managed to get in a few good blows on that Second of hers.” He whistled. “Connor Holstrom.” Bryce went utterly rigid. “Guy was a bruiser.” From the cruel curve of his lips, he’d clearly noticed how stiff she’d gone at the mention of Connor’s name. “Was Holstrom your boyfriend? Pity.”
