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“Hey, yourself.” Fury gave Syrinx a look that stopped him in his tracks. That made him sit his fluffy butt down on the carpet, lion’s tail swaying, and wait until she deigned to greet him. Fury did so after a heartbeat, ruffling his velvety, folded ears.
“What’s up?” Bryce toed off her heels, rotated her aching feet a few times, and reached back to tug at the zipper to her dress. Gods, it was incredible to have no pain in her leg—not even a flicker. She padded for her bedroom before Fury could answer, knowing she’d hear anyway.
“I got some news,” Fury said casually.
Bryce peeled off her dress, sighing as she took off her bra, and changed into a pair of sweats and an old T-shirt before pulling her hair into a ponytail. “Let me guess,” she said from the bedroom, shoving her feet into slippers, “you finally realized that black all the time is boring and want me to help you find some real-person clothes?”
A quiet laugh. “Smart-ass.” Bryce emerged from the bedroom, and Fury eyed her with that swift assassin’s stare. So unlike Hunt’s.
Even when she and Fury had been out partying, Fury never really lost that cold gleam. That calculation and distance. But Hunt’s stare—
She shut out the thought. The comparison. That roaring fire in her veins flared.
“Look,” Fury said, standing from the couch. “I’m heading out a few days early to the Summit. So I just thought you should know something before I go.”
“You love me and you’ll write often?”
“Gods, you’re the worst,” Fury said, running a hand through her sleek bob. Bryce missed the long ponytail her friend had worn in college. The new look made Fury seem even more lethal, somehow. “Ever since I met you in that dumb-ass class, you’ve been the worst.”
“Yeah, but you find it delightful.” Bryce aimed for the fridge.
A huff. “Look, I’m going to tell you this, but I want you to first promise me that you won’t do anything stupid.”
Bryce froze with her fingers grasping the handle of the fridge. “As you’ve told me so often, stupid is my middle name.”
“I mean it this time. I don’t even think anything can be done, but I need you to promise.”
“I promise.”
Fury studied her face, then leaned against the kitchen counter. “Micah gave Hunt away.”
That fire in her veins withered to ash. “To whom?”
“Who do you think? Fucking Sandriel, that’s who.”
She couldn’t feel her arms, her legs. “When.”
“You said you wouldn’t do anything stupid.”
“Is asking for details stupid?”
Fury shook her head. “This afternoon. That bastard knew giving Hunt back to Sandriel was a bigger punishment than publicly crucifying him or shoving his soul into a box and dumping it into the sea.”
It was. For so many reasons.
Fury went on, “She and the other angels are heading to the Summit tomorrow afternoon. And I have it on good authority that once the meeting’s done next week, she’ll go back to Pangera to keep dealing with the Ophion rebels. With Hunt in tow.”
And he’d never be free again. What Sandriel would do to him … He deserved it. He fucking deserved everything.
Bryce said, “If you’re so concerned I’ll do something stupid, why tell me at all?”
Fury’s dark eyes scanned her again. “Because … I just thought you should know.”
Bryce turned to the fridge. Yanked it open. “Hunt dug his own grave.”
“So you two weren’t …”
“No.”
