Page 9 of Ravaged Devotion

But he hadn’t deserved to die.

Rue’s spine stiffened when he felt the cloying presence appear at the door. He had a moment to prepare and school his features while the Black Hart slipped out of his shoes, so his expression was mostly blank by the time the taller man stepped up to his right side.

Ryker didn’t bow. Didn’t move to offer flowers or burn incense in Adams’ honor. He merely stood there, allowing the silence to stretch, knowing what it was doing to Rue.

He lasted less than two minutes before nerves got the better of him. Rue’s foot slid back half an inch, about to retreat like the coward he was, but the Black Hart’s cold voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Father wants you back home.”

Rhys Hart was not his father. Rue’s hands fisted at his sides, but he hung his head, knowing where this was going.

“Unless you want another one of your friends to end up like this, you’ll wrap up things on Tulniri and return.” Ryker moved to leave, but paused to drop a hand on Rue’s shoulder, applying more pressure than was necessary, as though he thought there was any chance Rue might mistake the gesture as one of kindness. “I’ll give you a week, little brother. Don’t disappoint.”

Rue sunk to his knees as the Black Hart walked away.

Chapter 2:

Present Day

Ryker Hart was pissed off.

Shocker.

Anger was the only emotion he seemed capable of for years now. The only thing left alive inside of him after…Just after.

He didn’t like to think about it.

Didn’t like to, yet it was all he ever seemed able to.

His friend Ares said there were two versions of the world in Ryker’s head, the Before and the After, with nothing in between. One was bright and hopeful and filled with possibility and a childish dream of the future.

The other was this.

Was fury and indignation and standing in the dark hovering over a sleeping form in the dead of night.

Ares didn’t know about that last part.

No one did.

And no one ever would if Ryker had any say in the matter.

The room was only slightly smaller than the one he called his own down the hall, filled with tiny mementos and reminders of the Before, when things had been better and Ryker had arguably been kinder.

Kindness was for fools.

He was no fool.

Not anymore.

Not for the person who’d shoved their hand straight through his chest, twisted, and yanked his heart out.

Ryker took a step closer to the end of the bed, eyes tracking the rise and fall of the sleeper’s chest.

Rue.

His Rue.

Or.