Chapter 50
Bridger caught Meyer’s lifeless body before it hit the ground.
I’m holding Meyer’s dead body. I’m crouched on the steps of my best friend’s childhood home, holding his lifeless body. My best friend is dead. My brother is dead. Meyer is dead.
One second he was there.
And now he’s not.
Blood from the hand-sized hole in Meyer’s chest leaked all over Bridger, pooling around his knees. His jaw hung open, his golden eyes fixed on the hot Ardor sun high in the sky. That should hurt his eyes, but it didn’t because… Meyer is dead.
Bridger couldn’t block out the pain he felt with a shield if he tried. He looked up from his position on the ground, expecting to see Marlena hovering over with a sinister smile, but instead he watched Vega appear at the top of the steps out of thin air.
She’d taken another.
Her jaw hung open… like Meyer’s. Tears welled in her eyes… but not Meyer’s. He’s dead. He’d never feel anything ever again.
“No.”
The whisper of her voice inside his head brought his senses back. The iron smell of Meyer’s blood, the warmth of it soaking his suit, the moisture of his cheeks from the tears he hadn’t felt falling.
He hadn’t even noticed his vision was blurry.
Vega sprinted down the stairs and skidded to a stop on her knees.
“The blood.” Bridger babbled his first words, worried about Vega staining her skin with the ichor of his best friend on the steps of his childhood home.
“My best friend is dead.”
“I know, baby, I know. I’m so sorry.” Vega grabbed both sides of Bridger’s cheeks, forcing him to meet her eyes.
Bridger hadn’t meant to say that to her. He’d meant to say it to himself, but it was so fuzzy—the pathway to his own mind and hers. He couldn’t tell which way to go.
With his senses waning in and out, Bridger barely felt the brush of cold empathy against the open door of his mind.
The stroke of Death was hard to miss.
He looked down at Meyer’s lifeless body, Vega’s hands falling from his face. Bridger pulled an arm out from underneath Meyer’s knees, resting him on the warm ground below, using his free hand to close his eyelids and mouth.
If it weren’t for the blood splatter across his cheek, it would look like he was sleeping.
Footsteps echoed from behind. Bridger drew his sword without thinking, spinning to meet the tip of the black blade to the throat of his assailant.
Except it wasn’t an assailant… It was Halo—who looked like he might pass out from the combination of the sword at his jugular and the very dead Meyer resting in Bridger’s arms.
“Oh my gods,” Halo gasped, jumping from the tip of Bridger’s sword to behind Vega where he probably felt safest. “No, no. What… what happened?”
Meyer is dead.
“Marlena,” Vega croaked. “It was my fault.” Her voice shook. “I should have listened. I shouldn’t have—.”
“No,” Bridger rumbled. “Not your fault.” He couldn’t figure out how to talk in full sentences yet, but at least his face wasn’t getting any wetter from tears.
Or maybe it was.
Oh, how did my sword get on the ground? Had he dropped it?
His eyes wandered around him, glancing across from him to see Vega still sitting there, her own face streaked with tears.
“His parents?” Bridger asked.
“Gone,” Vega whispered.
Bridger didn’t know if that meant dead or fled, but he didn’t want to know either way. “We need to burn him.”
“Of course,” Vega said, reaching out to wipe the tears off Bridger’s face.
Apparently, he was still crying.
“We can take him anywhere you want to go,” Halo added.
“Here. He’d want to be burned here. At home.”
So, that was what they did. They burned him at home in the town square where all the bodies of the Ingises before him had been burned.
Vega felt physically ill hearing Vulcan call to her when the pyre for Meyer’s body was lit.
The people of Ustilo slowly came out of their homes, no longer needing to hide from Marlena’s potential attack. She was gone for now, tending to her wounds.
People brought flowers from inside their homes or their small backyard gardens. Some brought trinkets—metal fire pins for shirts, wooden figurines of Vulcan—the god of Ardor.
Everyone who had yet to flee the city came to pay their respects, dipping their heads at Bridger in silent respect. He could barely look them in the eyes.
Vega stood by his side the entire time, her thumb rubbing circles on the back of his hand. She thanked every person before they walked away.
They’d found allies in Ardor, and all it had taken was for Marlena to kill the son of their once-beloved original family.
Halo jumped to the mines to tell everyone the news of Meyer’s passing, returning with word from Khort that they’d successfully evacuated the mines and were headed back to Vincere with the survivors.
When Halo returned, he had Leo in tow. With a few other soldiers, they began going door to door, giving people the option to stay or go.
For every one who left, fifteen stayed. Ardor had been sick of Marlena’s reign for much longer than anyone could have imagined.
They stayed until the fire went out and Meyer’s body was nothing but ash. The sun started to dip behind the mountains in the far-off distance, and people had stopped coming by almost an hour ago.
It was just Vega and Bridger, her head leaning against his arm as they sat on a bench, staring at what was left of Bridger’s best friend and brother.
Bridger took a deep breath and stood, disconnecting himself from Vega. She didn’t follow, but he could feel her eyes on him as he approached the pyre. He sank to his knees, not caring what soot or ash he got on himself.
He closed his eyes, imagining Meyer beside him. “I promise to make her pay for what she did.” Bridger sat there until the sun sank below the mountains and the sky shone bright with the most beautiful sunset.
Orange and red illuminated the city, taking the day his best friend died with it. He stayed quiet until the sky had gone dark. “Goodbye, brother.”
Bridger pushed himself off the ground, trudging back to Vega on legs that felt too weak to carry him much longer.
She stood when he towered over her on the bench. “Let’s get you home.”
Home.
Home was wherever Vega was.
Bridger didn’t have anything left inside today, so all he did was nod his head.
Halo whisked them away, and they landed outside Bridger’s bedroom in Vincere.
Wasting no time, Bridger opened the door. He didn’t care he was covered in blood, ash, soot… none of it. He collapsed on his bed without undressing or taking his boots off.
Through the crack in the open door, Vega gave Halo a tight hug, brushing the bright blond hair from his eyes. “Get some sleep. You did well today.”
Before Bridger was drawn into the depths of sleep, he heard the shuddering sob of a boy who wanted nothing more than to belong. “I should have been there. I could have saved him.”
Bridger free-fell into sleep before he could tell Halo it wasn’t his fault… It was mine.
When he slept this time, it wasn’t dreamless. At least these dreams weren’t meant for torture like the others—it was a montage of Bridger and Meyer.
“Ow, ow, ow!” Meyer cried, holding his limp arm against his chest.
Bridger tried to inspect the break, but Meyer wouldn’t let him too close. “I told you it wasn’t worth it. She didn’t even look at you.”
Summer Laudo was the prettiest girl in Oro, with her long black hair and charcoal eyes.
She was visiting her cousins in Fortis during a break from school.
Meyer crushed on her all summer, and instead of going over to talk to her like a normal thirteen-year-old boy would, he decided to try to do a backflip off the tallest tree in the city park.
He overrotated and landed on his face, his arm getting caught up in the wreckage. It hung at an unusual angle.
When Bridger visited him in the Atrox med-ward later, Summer sat in a chair beside his bed.
Meyer winked at him when Summer wasn't looking.
Bridger chuckled and let his best friend pretend to still be in pain for the sake of a pretty girl’s attention.
They were thirteen and fourteen and had just started to realize girls were pretty.
But then they were fourteen and fifteen… and Meyer was no longer in the med-ward bed. He was in the middle of a ring, facing off the biggest dude of his year.
Bridger was already ahead of everyone in his class for the year and spent most of his time training at the army’s facilities—he was determined to be the youngest person to complete level ten training… and he was so close he could taste it.
Today he got the night off while his father had meetings outside of Fortis. A night off to mingle with kids his own age, and of course it had to be at an unsanctioned fight ring.
If their parents found out…
The crowd gasped at Meyer taking a knee to the chin. Bridger gripped his fists at his sides. “Watch his left foot!” he called to his best friend. He led whatever he was about to do with his left foot, giving a piece of intel to his opponent if they knew where to watch.
Meyer grew up sparring with Bridger, learning everything he could from the future commander of Tolevarre, but he still lacked some of the obvious skills it took to be on Bridger’s level.
If anyone believed Meyer could take this big, burly Fortis-born down, it was Bridger.
Meyer honed in on the bit of shared information, and within two minutes had him pinned.
Cheers came from the people around them. Bridger reached over the ring and popped his fist against Meyer’s like they always did. “Nice pacing, but you should have seen that knee move coming from a mile away.”
Meyer wiped his brow with the shirt he’d worn in, throwing it over his shoulder as he stepped out of the ring. “Yeah, yeah, I still won.”
Bridger chuckled. “Could have left without a bruised chin though…”
“Who’s next?” someone called from the other side of the room.
A man Bridger had never seen around before stepped forward, raising his hand. “Me!” And then before they could leave, the stranger turned and pointed at Bridger. “And I challenge him!”
The crowd went silent as Bridger looked from the tip of the man’s finger to his eyes. “Me?” he asked, with a raised brow and the puff of a laugh.
“Yes, you. Or is the commander’s son afraid to get his ass kicked?”
Okay, so this man was not only cocky, but stupid.
Bridger rolled his eyes, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “I’d like to see you try.”
That was the first night Bridger’s father set him up, allowing his son to be jumped by four grown men for the sake of “teaching his son to multitask in a fight.”
It would become the start of a new grueling training regimen.
And then Bridger and Meyer weren’t fourteen and fifteen… They were eighteen and nineteen.
“I’m going to marry that girl,” Bridger said as they strolled down the steps of the Aeris estate.
“You met her seven hours ago.” Meyer scoffed, slipping into the vehicle taking them back to Fortis since their parents had disappeared hours ago.
“So?” Bridger asked, following in behind him.
“Plus, that is not the sister your father was introducing you to.” Meyer reached under the seat and pulled out a flask, tipping his head back to take a swig.
“My father can manage every single part of my life, but I’ll be damned if I let him tell me who I’m allowed to fu—”
“Okay, I get the point,” Meyer said with a small laugh, tossing the flask at Bridger. “Rumor has it she’s been promised to the dragons.”
A cocky smile slid over Bridger’s lips before he took a long pull of liquor from Meyer’s flask. “I didn’t see her eyeing the Fera boy all night.”
“He’s probably already been there, done that,” Meyer said with a shrug of his shoulders.
Bridger chucked the flask at Meyer in a warning. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
Meyer fumbled to catch the flask, eventually getting a good grip before he started to laugh. “Ohhhh, you’re fucked.”
He joined in because Meyer had been right.
Bridger was fucked from the moment he met Vega. The second their eyes met, he knew his destiny would be whatever aligned him with her.
He was doomed the day Vega stole his heart.
Bridger continued to dream of the life he’d lived with Meyer by his side, remembering everything there was to know about the best friend Bridger could have ever had.