40. Ryker
Ryker
It took every bit of self-control I’d learned over the years not to tear into his fucking throat with my claws. It'd be so easy. The artery throbbed beneath my hand. If I squeezed any tighter, my talon would slice clean through.
But I didn’t.
Couldn’t.
Part of me wanted to. That darker part whispered it’d be justice for what he did to our people. The betrayal. What he did to Evanee. Planned to do to her.
The thought of his hands on her at all made me snarl loud enough that he flinched—my grip tightened.
“Ryker—please—”
Please. Desperate, even for him, to appeal to my mercy. But he did—my grip eased. His brows furrowed, fangs flashing as he fought against me. I could almost smell the hatred and resentment leaking off of him like a noxious gas.
He never wanted for anything. He grew up in the castle with both his mother and our father. And I never felt jealous of him.
The village my mother hid us in helped raise me into the Gargoyle I was today.
Everyone, in turn, taught me not just life skills or survival, but core values—honesty, integrity, respect, humility, compassion, love.
But when my Father began visiting, and I found out who he was and how my mother had been treated, what my heritage was—I learned of rage.
That rage threatened to seep out now as I stared into our father’s eyes—set in his mother’s face—my control threatened to slip.
“You can have her—when I’m done—” he rasped.
A roar tore from deep within my chest. My fangs were inches from his face, spittle flying. I pulled him away from the wall and slammed him against the ground. Stone cracked from the force. He cried out, his right wing skidding nastily on the decay covering the floor in this cursed dungeon.
A wheezing laugh came out of him with my talons still gripping his throat. Thunderclaps boomed so fiercely that the pebbles on the ground vibrated, the storm echoing my anger.
“Can’t even kill me, can you, brother? You’re soft. So damn soft. Just like Evanee’s—”
Whether the grip I kept on my emotions broke, or something deeper—primal—awakened…
I fucking lost it.
I launched upwards—the ceiling shattered as we tore through it into the storm.
Sleet pelted us, obscuring my view momentarily. He swiped his claws, putting four deep gouges across my chest.
My grip loosened, a roar ripping from me. He shoved me—his wings working wildly as he tried to put distance between us. The blood dribbling down my chest barely registered as I shot after him.
We hovered—then he surged toward me. I thrust my hands out, twisting the storm winds into a violent gust that slammed into him. His wing buckled. I forced another wall of air, sending him spiraling to the ground. His bellow of rage cut through the thunder surrounding us until he crashed below.
I landed hard, the ground shuddering beneath my power. He scrambled, the breath knocked out of him.
I unsheathed the two swords at my back.
His eyes widened.
My jaw tightened as I fought to contain the anger and hatred within myself.
Watka, my mentor and father figure, was the reason I could lock away the darkness that festered within me. His voice broke through the fog in my head now—
“Rage only lives in you because you feed it. Therefore, you must starve it. Suffocate it. Until you can strengthen your mind to do that, physical exhaustion can distract you. Some are born with a kernel already blackened from their surroundings. Others like you, young Ryker, are only covered in shadow. Let us shine light on it.”
So he trained me, both in fighting and in the mind. Saved me from myself.
I approached Aiden, swords drawn. Still gaping for breath, he fumbled for his own.
Aiden’s mother did this. She sowed this seed of hatred in him.
Had Watka not found me that day, my rage would have claimed me. But I listened, and I learned. Chose a different path. Maybe, he could too.
He flailed his sword toward me as he finally dragged in a breath.
"Those powers were supposed to be mine!” he screamed raggedly, swinging with whatever strength remained.
I barely had to brace my arm to deflect it.
“You’ve stolen everything from me!” Another swing. Another deflect as I gained ground, our swords locking.
“No, Aiden,” I snarled. “This power was never meant to be ours. Your mother tried to force it onto you for her own twisted agenda.” Steel hissed between us, the sleet like tiny daggers against my skin.
“The universe just righted a fucking wrong by keeping it from you,” I growled low and vicious right as a flash of silver caught my eye—too late.
He lodged a dagger in my side, just below my rib cage. I hissed as I stumbled back, my swords loosening. I ripped the dagger free, clamping a hand over the wound to staunch the flow of blood.
His eyes flared with malice—he thought he’d won.
Aiden came for me, sword raised.
I gritted through the pain of that gaping wound and dropped low, whipping out my spiked tail, slicing the back of his knee, straight through the tendon. He went down.
I was on him within seconds, as I dropped one sword, my fist connecting with his face, the crunch of bone echoing in my ears. I slammed his arm on the frozen ground. Bone snapped. His sword clattered free as he thrashed beneath me, screaming at me. Cursing me.
He roared as he landed an uppercut to that wound. Blood gushed hot, soaking the fabric over my hip—it barely registered as I hauled him to his knees. Rain hammered down on us, thunder clapping so close that the hair stood on the back of my neck.
I slammed my knee into his face.
Crunch.
He snarled, his teeth crimson.
“It didn’t have to come to this, Aiden. You chose this,” I roared over the thunder.
“You made me this!” he snarled back.
“I didn’t make you anything. Your mother did. You can still turn from this path. You can—”
Aiden lashed out with both clawed hands, pushing me.
I stumbled.
He pushed off the ground, taking to the sky, but didn’t get far.
I snatched his wing—one of the highest crimes of our kind—and held firm.
He angled his head, trying and failing to pull free.
“They’ll never stop hunting her. Or you.” His voice was low and pained, but a vicious laugh escaped him. I paused. “You may wield power, but it’s nothing compared to what lurks within her veins.”
A warning pulsed beneath the cloud of anger.
“I always knew there was something wrong with you,” he spat blood at my feet. “When I saw Evanee’s coloring… that she matched you, I suspected you had magic in your veins.”
“What are you getting at, Aiden?” My chest rumbled, patience gone.
He grunted, shifting and trying to free his wing.
“These past years, I studied the forbidden texts. Of our ancestors and their magic. About…” He paused, his mouth curving in a way that unsettled me.
“Mate bonds.” He let out a low, vicious laugh as my brows creased further.
“I know what she is to you, brother.” His gaze flicked to my bicep, where that banded tattoo hid beneath my form. The one that matched hers in every way.
The words struck deeper than any blade.
My eyes flared—just enough to confirm I didn’t know. Aniah had thought it a possibility, but I’d shrugged her off. Told her it was impossible—mate bonds were dead. Then again, powers had been too.
My stomach sank as his mouth turned cruelly upwards.
“Poor bastard. You really didn’t know, did you? You should also know that if you give in to that bond and seal it, you’ll be her biggest weakness. Every mated bond of the past ended the same.” He ran his tongue over the blood on his lip. “You’ll be her death sentence.”
“Enough!”
I couldn’t kill him—I slammed him into the ground.
But I could break him—I raised my sword.
Fear replaced the cockiness in Aiden’s eyes as he tried to wrench his wing free.
“Ryker, no. I-I’ll do anything! I can barter with the King on your behalf or-or make things right with Evanee or—”
“You will never speak her name again,” I snarled, that sliver of control shattering with her name on his lips. "Pray to the fucking moon, I never see you again. If I do, I’ll kill you.”
The whites of his eyes showed—
The world seemed to hold its breath, silence spreading around us as I brought my sword down, slicing clean through the joint where wing met bone.
Hot blood sprayed over my face and chest, his scream guttural, burrowing into my soul.
Still, he tried to pull away. I raised my sword again, severing the other.
Bile burned my throat as I held his wings in my hands, the leather heavy and limp. Blood steamed as it dripped stark against the snow.
I crouched before him as he sobbed and grabbed a fistful of hair, yanking his head back until his dulled blue eyes met mine.
“You wanted to be with the Fae so bad, little brother? You got your fucking wish.” I leaned closer, voice deadly low. “You’re no longer a Gargoyle.”
I let his head drop and stood, sheathing my swords, and threw the gory remnants before him.
He reached shaking fingers toward the severed appendages, grazing over them, before I braced for flight.
“I hate you!” he screamed into the storm. “I fucking hate you!”
Even as I left to aid our allies in the battle at the castle, his screams followed me—echoing in my head long after the storm swallowed me.