Page 33 of Revenge of the Forgotten

The dreams were making him feel things he had suppressed years ago. The pain of losing Vega, the anger of Marlena’s curse taking the woman he’d once loved from him—those memories were meant to be subdued, locked away tight where the anguish couldn’t reach him.

It was much easier to feel nothing at all.

Bridger turned around and started walking away. “Be ready to leave in two hours. I’m not waiting for this Halo kid if he’s not here on time.”

12

Bridger kept his head up as he marched down the halls, dressed in his training suit with daggers of all shapes and sizes lining the holster on his leg. Stitched into place over his heart was the Dimico insignia, shiny and gold. No cape fluttered from his shoulders.

No one made eye contact with him, moving out of his way if they got too close. Bridger was never the friendliest commander, but he’d never been as outwardly brutal as his father.

Bridger stretched in the garden before taking off along the trail that led to a small lake outside of the city square. He took this run anytime he was in Stella. Meyer usually accompanied him—Bridger hadn’t extended the offer today.

He pushed himself hard, his lungs filling with the crisp morning air. Athleticism was a trait of those with Mars’s blood—the god of war. Bridger was who everyone strived to be when they were warrior-born.

Like a tidal wave, thoughts of last night’s dream flooded his mind again, and he ran harder to push them away, his muscles tensing as he drove into the ground with strong strides. The memories stole his breath, constricted his airflow and caused a gasp to slip from his lips as he lost the pace he’d been keeping. The feel of Vega’s ache, the cause of her turmoil in last night’s dream, blacked-out his vision, and catapulted him back in time.

Bridger closed his eyes tightly, and against his instinct, he forced himself to slow to a stop. His hands rested on his knees as he hunched down to catch his breath. Bridger straightened his back to keep airflow coming in, breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth.

For so long he’d been able to forget how in love he’d been with Vega, how the thought of her was so all-consuming that he couldn’t imagine a world without her. Remus had given him the power to block all of that out—to try and rid himself of the memory of her, of their life together before she became a shell of the person she’d once been. Bridger was able to pretend their relationship was something from another time, another world, because that was what it’d become.

Vega wasn’t the same girl he’d fallen in love with, and he wasn’t the same boy he’d been when he fell.

What the fuck is wrong with you? Get yourself together, Dimico.

He was miles away from the home harboring those wretched memories and made the run in record time until the panic of his thoughts halted him.

People trudged by on their morning walks around the capital, eyeing the commander discreetly.

He stood up tall and took in the view. Aeris used to hold a special place in his heart. These mountains were home to what used to be some of his fondest memories. Those memories were now the ones that haunted him, invading his dreams and stealing his sleep.

The mountains loomed, still capped with snow from the winter. Summer was in full bloom, but the very tip-top of Stella’s mountain ranges would never fully melt.

The reminders of her burned, singeing his body. With a groan, he slammed his shields up and around his mind, forcing a calmness to ease into him.

Bridger’s breathing steadied in time for the trees to rustle behind him with an unnatural wind. Everything Marlena did, everything she was, felt dark.

It didn’t surprise him one bit she sought him out before he left today. In fact, he expected it. Part of him did hope she wouldn’t, but Bridger knew her. He’d spent forty years working by her side.

“Good morning, Bridger.” Her voice was gentle. It was easy to fall for her charm.

Bridger turned to see Marlena standing behind him on the shore of the lake. “Morning,” he quipped.

Marlena’s smile brightened as the people of Stella took notice of her, their eyes landing on her for only a split second before they shot back to the path ahead of them. People were afraid of her, no matter the power they might also possess—and in order to call Stella home, their powers had to be pretty significant.

“You missed a really wonderful dinner last night,” she said with a sigh.

“Drop the fucking act. Do you play pretend like this around everyone all the time?” Bridger was exhausted by her constant charade.

Marlena chuckled, the sound sprinkling the air. Bridger threw a shield up, a silent bubble falling around them—it wasn’t visible, but it was there, and Marlena knew it. Her tone changed, but her body language stayed the same. Tall, regal. Just because the people of Stella couldn’t hear her didn’t mean they weren’t watching. “Of course not. I know I don’t have to bluff around you.” Her words were like poison, seeping through her tainted lips.

Her outfit today was a dark dress, crimson sparkles glittering in the daylight as she moved to stand in front of Bridger. Even clothed in a feminine dress, Marlena gave off a deadly edge—the one she’d killed for.

Bridger didn’t dare move back from her. Once upon a time, he was afraid of Marlena, but that was a long time ago—a dream ago. “If that’s the case, then tell me the real reason I’m going to get Vega instead of waiting until she’s back here where there’s less risk.”

“I told you last night, I don’t need her giving hope to the rebels this far into the curse. They’re already a nuisance, and I’m growing tired of their false confidence.” Marlena’s eyes roamed Bridger’s rigid stance.

“That’s a load of shit.” Bridger’s face stayed hard as stone, his emotions locked away tight. “Tell me.” He took a step closer to her, his gaze fixing on the muscle ticking in her jaw. “Or I’ll send someone else. I’m a busy man, Marlena. I don’t have time to play your games.”

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