Page 41 of Revenge of the Forgotten

Arlet was stronger than he’d ever seen her, with more determination burning behind her hazel eyes. She placed herself in front of Vega, and Bridger avoided looking at the woman he used to love. He didn’t want to feel that tug he felt earlier when those two words slipped through her perfectly shaped lips—like a little heart.

It’s you.

It’s you.

It’s you.

He backed Arlet up as far as she could go before she stepped on Vega, refusing to let his feelings resurface. You have a job to do.

“Don’t do this again,” Arlet pleaded, her attention focused on Bridger. Could she see the turmoil twisting behind his eyes?

A cough rattled through Vega’s chest. Blood splattered out of her mouth and sprinkled her cheeks with crimson specks.

“Oh my gods.” Arlet fell to the ground, and Bridger knew this was his chance. While Arlet cradled Vega’s head on her lap, Bridger snaked his fingers into her curls, pulling her away from Vega’s body.

She kicked, screamed, and clawed. “Bridger, no, please! Please! Let me get her to a healer! Let me save her,” Arlet cried, tears staining her cheeks.

He stepped around to kneel in front of her on his good leg. “She’s already dead.” His voice was ice cold. “No matter what you do or how many times you save her, Vega will always be dead. She died that day in Aeris fifty-five years ago.”

“No, no, you’re wrong.” Arlet wrapped her hands around Bridger’s wrist, trying to pry herself free from his hold. “That’s the Vega we know, right there. She’s so her. Her spunk, her fight—it’s really her, and she’s about to die again. All this work, everything I’ve been doing will be for nothing if you don’t let us go. Bridger, I know you’re still in there somewhere. I know some part of you still loves her.”

Bridger kept his hold on Arlet, eyes shifting focus between hers. “Loving her was my demise. It made me weak.” Bridger threw Arlet to the ground with an angry force, trudging back over to Vega’s bloodied body. With pain shooting through his leg and new blood seeping out of the wound, Bridger leaned down to lift Vega, but his eyes caught a twinkle on her finger reflecting off the full moon.

He knew instantly what it was.

It was the ring he’d given Vega in her second life. The one he forged out of the chip in his sword. The black metal was now a glimmering gem in the center of a gold band.

The promise he made to her in that life was simple.

I will never stop fighting for you. Not in this life or any that follow. My love for you is stronger than any darkness this realm can create. Me and you, forever.

Bridger hadn’t seen it in decades.

Arlet scrambled to Vega’s side, throwing herself over her best friend’s lifeless body.

“Bridger.” She caught where his gaze was fixated. “She’s remembering you. She’s seen you in dreams. It’s happening without intervention, without breaking the curse. Her memories are breaking through.”

Bridger felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Vega was remembering him before she’d been given her memories back. What the fuck? Was their bond strengthening again? Allowing her memories to travel down the chain linking them together? He ran a hand through his hair, fixated on the ring around Vega’s finger as a pang of guilt shot through him—he’d lied when he made those promises to Vega, too scared to fight for what was right. No. He shook his head, pulling himself back into the present to lock his focus on Arlet's terrified gaze. Her eyes were wider than the moon peeking through the trees.

Over his shoulder, Meyer still lay flat on his back—out cold. Bridger’s hands shook, his body felt cold, and he could still feel the throb pulsing in his leg like a drum in his ear. He returned his gaze to Arlet, and in a moment of weakness that shocked even himself, Bridger said, “Go.”

He turned around and kicked at Meyer’s leg, trying to jolt him awake. A moan slipped from the general’s lips.

Arlet stood frozen, gaping at him.

“Get out of here before I change my fucking mind and kill you both.”

Arlet scrambled to lift Vega and was gone from sight.

Bridger nudged Meyer with his boot a little harder this time. “Get up.” Bridger winced at the movement of his leg, the muscle contracting. Fuck, I hate this place, and its no-powers bullshit. His leg would have been long healed by now if they were back in Tolevarre.

Meyer groaned, rolling to his side on the hard ground.

Bridger nudged him again. “Meyer, get the fuck up.” Bridger tried to sound more urgent this time as his friend stirred and his hands shot to his head.

Meyer groaned, sitting up in a panic. “Where are they?” His eyes darted around, squinting into the shadows.

Bridger helped him to his feet. “She got away.” He did his best to sound annoyed, like he hadn’t just let them go. He felt the regret already sinking in, embarrassed with himself that he would so easily let Arlet get under his skin—that he would let this entire trip go to waste over a ring he’d given to a girl who was cursed to die.

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