Page 51 of Revenge of the Forgotten

The room went completely still when Bridger walked to the middle of the room. “If anyone else has questions about where my loyalties lie, please speak up now.” There wasn’t a peep, not a single breath taken. No one moved—nothing. “Good,” he said with gravel in his voice. “Fifteen of you, be ready by morning light.”

The whole spectacle took no more than five minutes.

No one followed him as he took his exit. They were left cleaning up the mess Bridger made of their training room.

Taking someone’s life wasn’t new to Bridger, and the remorse that was supposed to come with it no longer did. There was no way to feel bad when he couldn’t feel at all—when he’d buried his heart so deep in a pit, no one could reach it.

The darkness felt at home inside him. Bridger was right where everyone said he belonged.

The door to his room slammed shut from the sheer force of his anger, rattling the concrete walls around him.

His strength got away from him, especially at this stage of his anger. Bridger paced the room, the blood of the soldier still tainting his skin.

In the corner of his room was a small bar cart filled with bottles of different colored liquids. Bridger brought one to his mouth and chugged until it burned the pit of his stomach.

It wasn’t the killing that made him want to escape—it was the way he felt listening to that young boy talk of Vega. The feeling of rage that bubbled inside of him when he’d objectified her. Vega had been dead to him for years, or at least the version of her that he’d been in love with—the version that caused him to bend to his knees, his loyalty to her as unrelenting as their romance.

The dreams were breaking into a part of his brain Bridger thought he’d long killed off.

“Fuck!” His scream was strangled and raw. The bottle in his hand crashed against the wall before he registered he’d thrown it. The alcohol splattered across his room, the smell burning his eyes.

His room in Vincere didn’t have many personal touches. Most of his belongings went up in flames with the childhood home in Fortis he’d burned to the ground after Vega was killed the first time. Before Arlet found her on Earth, Bridger sent a message in the form of fire to his family and everyone else who followed Marlena.

Bridger would have burned the world down if it meant he got Vega back. Everyone else was collateral damage he was willing to lose.

The heart of a true villain, even before he’d been damned.

Meyer stormed into the room hours later without so much as a tap on the door to announce his arrival. “What was that about?” he asked.

“The soldiers are getting too comfortable. They think they can talk however they want without consequences. I’ve been too nice.” Bridger stood, unclasping his cape from his uniform and letting it flutter to the floor. He’d lost track of how much he’d drank, his only goal to free himself from the memories of Vega, of the ring, and seeing her today.

“I’m all for putting some of these smug bastards in their place, but that wasn’t what tonight was,” Meyer said.

“Enough. I’ve had enough of the fucking lectures from you. If you don’t like how I reprimand my soldiers, then leave.” Bridger wanted to be alone.

“I’m not here to argue or tell you that you’re wrong. I’m here to make sure you’re okay. I know this is a lot for you. The whole Vega thing…” Meyer’s words trailed off. “It hasn’t bothered you as much in the past. I thought you’d finally gotten over her, but now I’m not so sure, with the dreams and all. You’re hiding things from me.”

Bridger barked a laugh, turning to face his friend—the only friend he’d ever had, ever been allowed to have until he met Vega. “There are a lot of things you don’t know, that I don’t tell you, Meyer. Get used to it.” Bridger sneered. “And since when are you so in touch with your emotions? Since when do you care about what I’m dealing with?” Bridger asked. The two had never been sentimental towards one another. “Tonight was a much-needed reminder that I have powers none of them could ever dream of, a reminder that I’m more than any of you will ever be.” Bridger locked eyes with Meyer, sounding so much like Marlena he wanted to choke on the words as they left his mouth. His next statement was meant to strike, to drive a stake and draw blood. “I am your commander, Meyer. Not your friend.” Liar. He turned around, heading to the bathroom where he would finally clean the blood and remnants of that soldier off his skin. “Get out and warn the others that I’m done being disrespected.”

20

It had been days since Vega woke up from her mini coma. Days of learning that the buzzing through her veins would start to feel natural again soon. Days of learning about herself through someone else’s stories. Days with Khort while he taught her how to use the fizzle of electricity that sparked at her fingertips and palms whenever her emotions flared.

Vega groaned, shoulders sagging as Khort stood across the training room from her.

“Try again,” he told her.

“I can’t do it. We’ve been trying for hours, Khort.” They’d been spending a lot of time together while Arlet slipped back into her role here in Tolevarre. On Earth, Vega had felt like Arlet could convince her to follow her anywhere, and it seemed the rebels of Tolevarre felt the same. She could rule any world, and Vega would believe that was exactly where she belonged.

Arlet woke up every morning to meet with the other leaders of Castra, planning their next attack, their next move. It left little time for Arlet to train Vega or even spend much time with her now that she was back after being gone for a year.

“You’re not giving up. Try again.” Khort, who she’d learned was the leader of their tiny rebel army, was relentless in their training. The respect the people of Castra had for Khort could be seen in the way they bowed their heads when he walked by and how they lit up when he held a conversation with them.

Vega found herself curious if there was someone to keep his bed warm at night—stop it, you idiot. He might be hot, but he’s supposed to be your best friend—but those thoughts soon faded when he didn’t let up on her, forcing her to work through the fatigue. “Won’t I just remember how to do this when I get my memories back?” Vega puffed, returning to the fighting stance Khort kept forcing her to start in. One foot in front of the other, feet spread the width of the hips.

Today they were trying to will her lightning out of hiding. There were so many more powers Vega held under her skin, but this was the easiest for her to control—this was the power that came first, meaning she’d wielded it the longest and it should be the simplest to control… but the sweat pouring down Vega’s face proved otherwise.

She was struggling.

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