Valkyrie Reborn

by Allyson Lindt

  “Starkad. He’s done things I don’t agree with—Freya, that’s the understatement of the hour—but...” She sighed again, as she sank onto the couch next to Min and dropped her head into her hands. “In school they taught us how to act normal. This is how you fit in. This is how you look like everyone else. But they never actually let us be normal. Normal people worry about things like being late to work or if their partner is seeing someone else. If I’m late to work, someone dies. And I’m stressing about whether or not I can kill my ex before she finally offs me. I’m all over the place right now. I’m sorry.”

  Kirby had always been Min’s Huntress. From the first life he met her in. But now she embodied the nickname in a whole new way, and her struggle with that part of herself broke his heart. “We can do whatever you’d like. Your choice.”

  “Such dangerous words. Your choice.” She grabbed the TV remote, tossed it gently in the air, and caught it. “When Brit and I had our first real mission, we were allowed to do whatever we wanted. Finally. No rules. No watchful eye. And we did. We watched too much TV and ate whatever we wanted. We ordered every flavor of cake on the menu. Fucked all night long—I thought it was making love at the time, but she never loved me.”

  “It sounds beautiful.”

  “It’s one of the worst memories I have. It hurts to even summon it.”

  He wanted to wrap her up and comfort her until her world faded into the background. But that wouldn’t erase what had been done. Worse, she would carry this with her for eternity, whether in this life or future ones. “Would you take those moments back?” he asked.

  “The past is what it is.” She was so practical, it ached.

  “Hypothetically. If you could take it back, would you?” He rested a hand on her knee, to stop its bouncing.

  Kirby frowned and was silent for a moment. “No. It’s bittersweet, but it shaped me. I wouldn’t change who I am today.”

  Something to be grateful for. “Would you like me to decide what we do?”

  “Yes.”

  “La Femme Nikita?” He’d seen it a dozen times. It was Kirby’s favorite movie in her last life.

  Her scowl spoke volumes about her feelings on the matter. “If they get any technical details wrong, you’re going to learn just how not-fun I am to watch movies with.”

  “I could never think that, but point taken.” He took the remote from her. “Pretty Woman?”

  “I’ve never seen it.”

  He queued up the film. “I think you’ll enjoy it. And we won’t eat cake or fuck all-night long. We’ll watch this movie and the next, and enjoy each other’s company until we have the next step of a plan.”

  The corner of her mouth tugged up, and some of the tension faded from her posture. “You make it sound simple.”

  “Sometimes it is.”

  “No. Life is never simple.” Her sadness was back, heavy in her voice.

  Min pulled her into his lap, and she didn’t resist. “I suppose it’s not,” he said. “But parts of it can be.” He let the movie play.

  As they watched, she knew half the lines. She really was remembering her past.

  “I thought you hadn’t seen this.” He kept his tone plain and casual.

  “I haven’t... Or maybe I forgot? What would it be like, to have that?” She nodded at the screen as Julia Roberts laughed and slid low in the bathtub. “I mean, everything that’s making her smile right now.”

  “I’d give it to you if you wanted.”

  Kirby went rigid in his lap.

  Min should be more cautious with his words. Gwydion always warned him against coming on too strong. Min had never been good at holding back, though. Each time they met again, she was frightened of him. Or rather, of what he demanded when it came to love. Even before she remembered specifically, part of her knew he wouldn’t settle for half of her heart. He didn’t mind seeing her with Gwydion or Starkad, but when she pledged her love to Min, he demanded she go all in, and he offered the same.

  “No. I don’t want that. I wonder what it would feel like, but I’m not interested in what she’s doing,” Kirby said.

  He didn’t know how to interpret her answer. “Why not?”

  “Whoever I love has to be okay with my lifestyle. I might not be an assassin for the rest of my life, but I’m not ashamed of who I am, and I won’t surrender my life because some fancy guy in a nice car flashes his massive wallet.”

  He managed to suppress his grin. Even in this, she was passionate. “I would never ask you to.”

  “Now the conversation is getting a little too serious for my taste.” She slid from his lap to her own cushion.

  “I tend to be a serious guy. Some people find that daunting.”

  Kirby clenched her jaw. He’d pushed too hard too fast. As long as she didn’t storm from the house, that wasn’t an issue. If she did choose to leave, he didn’t know what he’d do.

  His phone buzzed, and he grabbed it.

  “Top-secret notes?” Her tone had gone flat again.

  He showed her the message from Starkad that said, We’re outside.

  She stood, crossed the room in long strides, and paused a few feet back from the entryway. Her gaze flicked along the front windows. “Let them in.”

  Min opened the door for Starkad and Gwydion, who stepped inside quickly.

  Starkad’s glance at Kirby was brief, but some of the lines faded from his face. “Cute pants,” he said, and set a duffel bag at her feet.

  “Thank the doc.” She hadn’t relaxed any, but the desire that flooded the room was tangible for Min.

  Aside from the brief encounter in his hotel room earlier, this was the first time in centuries all four of them had been in the same place at the same time. It should feel right, but something was still so very wrong.

  Min wished he could say what it was.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  6 Years Ago - Brit

  There were a lot of things Brit had struggled with since arriving on the TOM campus, but she was a master of keeping her emotion from her face.

  She wasn’t used to having to hide her excitement, though. She wasn’t used to having enough for it to be worth suppressing.

  As she headed toward Kirby’s dorm room, it was a challenge to keep from skipping. To stop a goofy grin from spreading across her face.

  “Evening, love.” Mark’s conversational tone sent the butterflies in her stomach plummeting to their death.

  Fortunately, she already had her mask in place. The only good thing about this encounter. “Lance Corporal.”

  “So formal.” Mark wrapped an arm around her waist and spun her to face him. “Do you call Kirby that, when she’s got her face buried in your cunt? Or do you save the titles for when you’re begging her to let you come?”

  Bile rose in Brit’s throat. She’d suspected her relationship with Kirby was one of those secrets everyone knew but no one talked about. However, if Mark was bringing it up, he wanted something. It probably wasn’t sex. He took that at his pleasure. “I’m sorry—what? You’re projecting again.”

  “Don’t play these games with me. We both know better.” His voice was hard, and he squeezed her hip until it ached.

  Brit’s heart slammed against her rib cage, but she never let it show. Mark was harsh under good circumstances. He made the word cruel feel like an understatement when she showed her distress. “Not sure what you’re talking about. Can I do something for you? Did you want to run drills?”

  He chuckled, and the lead ball that was her stomach dropped into her feet. “You can keep playing; that’s fine. I’ll talk, you listen,” he said.

  She swallowed hard and bit back a retort. If she were Kirby, she’d stand up to him. She’d throat-punch him or kick him in the balls. Instead, the same terror that had been there since she first met Mark kept her frozen in place.

  He smirked. That was worse than the calm, neutral expression he’d been wearing. “Tomorrow morning, Kirby’s going down.”

  “What a
re you—“

  “Nothing she won’t recover from. Just a little disciplinary action.” Mark let go of Brit. “For everything she’s done to me. To you.”

  She hasn’t done anything wrong to me. The protest stuck in Brit’s throat. Why couldn’t she say something? Why couldn’t she stand up for Kirby?

  “You’ll be there too,” Mark continued. “You can stand by your girlfriend’s side, or you can save your own ass.”

  There was no choice. She’d side with Kirby. Brit hated the hesitation weighing down the thought. “Kirby hasn’t done anything wrong.” She swallowed a gasp of relief that she managed the words without her voice cracking.

  “Riiight... Thing is, she’s their shining star. They won’t make her suffer for long. A slap on the wrist. But if you stand by her side, I’ll make sure you never recover. The humiliation that follows you from the hearing will be nothing compared to the hell I’ll make your life. She’s strong. You? You’re nothing. You’ll crumble so fast.”

  Brit wanted to protest, but she couldn’t. He was right. She was a fucking coward. She’d let him bully her for years. Never stopped him. Never stepped forward. The sex whenever he demanded, the favors she could get him because she had special privileges via Kirby...

  “Do you need anything else?” Her words were ice, despite the acid eating away her insides.

  “Not right now. Have a lovely evening, Brit.”

  She wanted to sob as she strolled away, back straight and gait even. She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.

  Mark’s words echoed in her thoughts when she reached Kirby’s room.

  Kirby could tell she was distracted, but Brit refused to open up. This was Brit’s problem. She brought it on herself by being weak. By always letting someone else fight her battles. She had to deal with this herself.

  She kept her mouth shut. Kirby looked concerned but didn’t push. Instead, they spent the night wrapped in each other, talking, and making plans for their next trip.

  Which wouldn’t happen any time soon, if Mark was right.

  Brit wasn’t surprised when Campus Security knocked the next morning. She tried to steel herself, as she and Kirby were led to the hearing room. She listened with her jaw clamped shut, while Kirby was assaulted with accusations.

  When it was Brit’s turn to speak, she forced resolve through her veins. She would stand by the woman she loved. She wouldn’t let Kirby go through this alone.

  Brit took her spot in the hot seat.

  Mark met her gaze, and a series of aches twinged through her body. Reminders of every injury he’d inflicted on her. The fractured wrist that never healed right. The punctured eardrum she hid, despite the impact it had on her physical training. The knife gouge that ran along her inner thigh that he swore had been a slip.

  She clenched her toes to keep the tremor of fear from shaking her body.

  She’s their shining star. You’re nothing. Mark’s words echoed in her thoughts. And he was right. Brit was timid. She was weak. She was insignificant. Kirby would be fine. Brit might not survive. Because she didn’t belong here, and someday, someone was going to figure that out.

  It wouldn’t be today. When Hel questioned her, Brit spilled out every self-loathing thought she had about herself and projected them on Kirby.

  As Kirby glared back at her in hurt and disbelief, Brit’s self-hatred took root.

  When Kirby’s mask slid in, Brit’s world shattered. She’d saved herself, but at what cost to the woman she loved?

  And still, she didn’t have the courage to take it all back. Whatever came next, whatever horror awaited Brit moving forward, she deserved it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Now - Brit

  Brit was ready to claw her way out of her skin, to get away from the chaos in her mind. Kirby was dead. Actually dead. Brit saw the body this time. It took all of her willpower to hold back the grief. This was the second time she’d lost Kirby, and there was no taking it back.

  On the trip back to their hotel, it was all Brit could do to keep her emotions bottled. Speaking certainly wasn’t an option. She should have told Kirby the truth. That the fault had always been Mark’s. And once again, Brit had buckled under her own weakness and indecision. Now she’d lost Kirby again.

  Brit bit the inside of her cheek, to keep from screaming in frustration.

  The hotel-room door swung shut behind them, and Mark latched it.

  “What the fuck was that?” Brit’s question came out more shrilly than she wanted. “Why did you kill her?” This was a bad time to freak out. He wouldn’t let her off with something as simple as death. She needed to bring her emotions under control.

  “You’re welcome.” He kicked off his shoes.

  “I’m welcome? Fuck you. Starkad isn’t going to come to us after this.” She was grasping for anything to explain her panic, and that was the best she could find.

  Mark shrugged. “Who cares what he does? We stuck around here to get Kirby. We got Kirby.”

  She clenched her jaw, struggling to shove down her despair and grief. Being with TOM had fucked up her life in so many ways, and now he’d destroyed the one chance she had to get out. And the one woman she loved. A sob bubbled in her chest, and she swallowed hard.

  “Unless you’re upset because there’s some other reason you want to talk to Starkad.” Mark eyed her.

  “Like what? To say hi? To catch up on old times?”

  “To leave.”

  Brit’s blood turned to ice in her veins, but she kept the reaction from her face. “Why would I leave?” Wrong response, and too late to take it back. She should have denied it and dropped the subject. Now she looked guilty.

  She was, though. Guilty of so much.

  “Listen. I get why this is hard for you.” Mark’s tone turned sympathetic.

  That was worse than him pushing the lie. “You couldn’t even begin to.”

  “Kirby’s been this shadow over you for years. Everything you said to her in the alley was true, but the reality was so much worse.”

  She didn’t like this at all.

  “She did that to both of us.” Mark stepped closer. “And then you thought she’d died that first time. There was no body. No closure. It’s different this time. A chance to move on.” He settled his foot between hers and rested a hand on her hip.

  None of this was comforting. “Maybe you’re right.” Brit tried to keep her voice steady while she assessed her options for escape.

  She was off balance, both mentally and physically, and he knew it. If he decided to be brutal...

  “I have the perfect way to move past this.” He glided his hand up her chest and cupped her breast through her shirt.

  Brit tried to jerk away without disrupting her precarious position. Fighting him was a bad idea on a normal day. With her shoulder and ear damaged, she didn’t stand a chance. “I was thinking I’d take some pills and sleep.”

  She didn’t like the idea of sleeping in the same room as him, when he was being aggressive, but the drugs should block out most of the discomfort if he decided he wanted sex anyway.

  “I can help wear you out.” He twisted his foot, and she stumbled, falling back onto the bed. “I’ll help you move past Kirby. I can even teach you how to stop being such a frigid bitch and show me a little gratitude.” He wedged his knee between her legs and pinned her good arm above her head in a single sweep.

  She was trained to get herself out of a number of physical situations, but that didn’t calm her now. Her heart was lodged in her throat, and acid burned up behind it. The position he held her in kept her from doing much of anything.

  Fuck.

  Mark tore at her shirt. The ripping sound filled her ears, and the fabric burned her skin.

  Brit wouldn’t let him have this. Not now. Never again.

  The single thought pushed aside her swelling anxiety, and numbness slid in. She felt like she was watching the show from outside her body, as he pressed his weight into her and dropped his free hand to he
r pants.

  Every detail about the situation was clear and distinct. His flushed face and twisted grin. The hammering of her heart against her ribs. His still-holstered but unsecured gun. Because he was a reckless idiot, who never thought anything bad would happen to him.

  Brit would have to reach across him with her bad arm, to get to his gun. She didn’t care. Her body screamed in protest, as she flexed her shoulder. It was now or never. She pushed past the agony, grabbed his gun, and shot him in the chest.

  He reared back with the first bullet. With the next two, he landed on his back on the ground.

  A new kind of desperate immediacy spilled through her. The gunshots were too loud. Someone had heard. Multiple people, probably. She had to go. She shoved his gun into her purse, ignoring the screaming pain in her arm. He didn’t have a pulse. There should be more blood. Why wasn’t there blood?

  There was no time to stick around and figure it out. Brit needed to go. It was easy to strong-arm her way into the adjoining room, if she ignored the agony. From there, she blended into a panicked group of people, chatting and calling down to the front desk.

  By the time she reached the lobby, she heard sirens. Must be nice to be one of the richest hotels in the city.

  She lost herself in the crowds before police arrived to rope off the crime scene. As soon as they discovered Mark’s body, they’d be looking for her—the cute blonde who had checked in with her now-dead boyfriend.

  It didn’t matter. She could lie low for a few hours. That was all she needed. Her mind looped mechanically through scenarios and lists of what she needed to do next in each case.

  She grabbed her cellphone from her purse while she walked. As far as anyone else was concerned, she was another person on the street, gossiping about the cops surrounding the Marriott. She dialed Starkad. He should have taken her in when she asked. He should have kept Kirby safe. This was as much his fault as anyone’s.

  “Yeah.” His tone was cool when he answered. The asshole didn’t even have the good grace to sound like he was mourning.

  It didn’t matter. Brit was done playing his games or anyone’s. It was time to end this. “Meet me. Give me an answer. Stop jerking me around.”