Page 84 of Revenge of the Forgotten

Vega kept telling herself to stand tall, but if this was just the beginning of her torture, there was no way she’d last more than twenty-four hours.

Marlena knelt down in front of Vega, a sneer painted on her lips. “You won’t be so tough when I lock you in the dungeons and torture you for days on end. I want you to beg for death so when you finally decide to tell me what I need to know, you’ll break. You won’t have the hope you’ve been holding on to for fifty-five years.”

“I can’t imagine what I did to make you hate me so much.” Vega breathed through the pain.

She was ready to feel whole again. There had been an ache in Vega’s chest since the moment she woke up in Tolevarre, a missing piece of herself that still left her feeling hollow and lonely.

Marlena’s gaze made her feel insignificant. “You’ll remember eventually, and when you do, I want you to cry for the forgiveness I’ll never give you.” Marlena backed away from Vega. “Lock her up, Bridger.”

I should have stayed on Earth.

30

“Get up.” The words were distant, even through his ears. Vega peered at Bridger through her eyelashes. The pain in her eyes was recognizable to him despite how well she was attempting to hide it. She set her lips, and his eyes flicked to them for a bit longer than they should’ve.

The fire behind her eyes sizzled, and if looks could kill… I’d be dead. “Please don’t make me tell you twice.” Bridger crossed his arms and tapped the toe of his boot on the floor, bouncing it impatiently as he waited.

Vega rasped, standing. “Shove it.”

She stumbled when she took her first step, and Bridger shot forward to keep her upright. The realization of what he was doing set in, so he changed course. Instead of gently steadying her, he shoved his hand under her arm and yanked her upright.

It’d been two lifetimes since he’d touched her.

He jerked his hand away and shoved it into his pocket. The feeling he used to get when they were together tingled up his arm—her touch feeling as electric as it ever had, even with her powers choked out from the branded spell on her arm. “You complain when I’m an asshole and you complain when I’m nice. I can never win with you.” He pointed to the open door. “Walk.” Vega didn’t budge, her face paler than before she stood. “Are you going to puke?”

Vega’s unease turned to anger, her eyes turning to slits. “I can see why everyone hates you.” She finally took a step, her footing more stable.

Bridger stayed close but kept enough distance to ensure he didn’t touch her again. “Do you think it’s any news to me that people don’t like me, Vega?” He said her name like he was keeping a secret—deep and savory to the ears. “No one ever really liked me. You’re going to have to get better at your comebacks.” They continued through the long hall and took the stairs down at an infuriatingly slow pace.

“Maybe when I get my memories back and I remember all the fucked-up shit you’ve done to me, it’ll help with my comebacks.”

“Such language.” Bridger’s abdomen pulsed with a hint of laughter. “I think I liked it better when you kept that pretty little mouth of yours shut. You were so peaceful when you were asleep.”

Vega held up her middle finger, not speaking another word. Bridger noticed the fresh black polish on her nails. And the ring. His heart dropped, but he recovered quickly, and he returned her sentiment with a wink before burying himself inside his mind.

Her fingernails are painted black and she’s wearing the ring still. Bridger immediately forced his focus to the back of her head, where her dark wavy hair was down, braids keeping the hair out of her face. Another detail that reminded him of the Vega from fifty-five years ago.

These details hadn’t always been there. Sometimes the person Vega became in these other lives didn’t even feel like her—so different from the person she’d been before the curse.

That wasn’t the case here. From the fingernails to the sass, this was the Vega he fell in love with. My Vega. He swallowed the lump in his throat as they approached the bottom of the stairs. “Left,” he ordered, happy to have something to focus on other than the woman in front of him.

There was no one around Marlena’s estate to see the sister who’d returned from the dead. The halls were empty and hauntingly quiet as they began to descend into the belly of Marlena’s home—into the original dungeon. Nothing had changed down here in thousands of years. It was cold and damp, with iron bars and cages crammed in.

Vega came to a sudden stop. Bridger almost collided with her as she spun around, eyes wide with panic.

“Don’t make this worse than it needs to be,” Bridger warned. The Vega he’d known once wouldn’t go down without a fight. His gaze fell to her legs, catching the twitch in her muscle.

Vega’s leg swept out, attempting to collide with Bridger’s and take him down like he’d done with Khort. He sighed heavily as his hand shot out and caught her by the calf, tripping her up. Bridger snatched her by the bad wrist, never letting her hit the ground. She yelped when he wrapped his hand tightly around the broken bone.

Vega was bound up like a pretzel. “Nice try.” Bridger hoisted her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

Vega kicked and screamed, pounding her fists into his back. “Help! Help! Let me go!” she screeched.

“No one can hear you down here.” Bridger dropped her in a cell lightly.

She exploded off her feet, chasing after him. He closed the cell door, a piercing scrape echoing down the hall as he locked her in. This dungeon hadn’t been used in years and smelled like mold and mildew.

The walls were made out of old stone, crumbling around the corners. The cell doors’ thick black iron rods were rusted with age, flaking off in chunks.

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