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Valkyrie's Vengeance: Book 1 (Loki's Wolves)

Page 11

by Melissa Snark


  "I have friends in law enforcement," Jake said. "We'll keep this out of the press. If the children have families, I'll see to it they're reunited. If not, they won't wind up in the system. There are families willing to take in orphans."

  She frowned. "They'd be raised by hunters."

  His teeth flashed in a fierce grin. "Better than being raised by wolves."

  Victoria's frown morphed to a glare. "So you say."

  "At least they'd have adults around them who will understand the nature of their trauma," Jake said. "Adults who know monsters are real. These kids are gonna suffer from nightmares for the rest of their lives."

  The man had the right of it.

  She preferred to let the matter drop. "Okay."

  "I'll drop Skinner at the hospital and get the children to safety," Jake said. "I'll meet you back here with the boy. Don't do anything stupid, like calling your pack."

  "I won't," Victoria had already considered and rejected the idea of calling for help. Rand and the others would refuse to give her up without a fight. Another confrontation with the hunters would likely get the rest of her people killed.

  With any luck, the others were well on the way to Santa Fe. Still, she worried about them. They hadn't responded to her distress while she battled the krampus. They were either too far away or experiencing troubles of their own.

  Too weary for further discussion, she helped Jake move Skinner into the front passenger seat of his vehicle. Offering assurances, she buckled the three children into the back seat. Sorrow closed like a hand on her throat. She barely managed to bid them goodbye without crying.

  Following Jake, she circled to the front of the vehicle. "When will you be back?"

  "I'll be an hour." Jake regarded her with hard eyes.

  Victoria didn’t look away from the man’s relentless stare. Her lips pulled back to reveal her teeth. "So help me, if you've harmed a hair on Jasper's head, I'll drag your soul to hell and pitch you in head first."

  "Understood." The corner of his mouth tugged in what might have been a reluctant smile, but he turned away too soon.

  While she watched, he climbed into the vehicle to take the children, the stray dog, and his injured friend to safety. Over the steering wheel, their gazes locked in a final unsettling stare before he drove away. Afterward, she blew out a breath she hadn't known was held.

  For an hour, Victoria paced the perimeter of the parking lot. Time ticked past, one excruciating minute after another. The rain resumed, falling in a heavy downpour, and she took shelter against the side of the building beneath an overhang. After a couple minutes, a steady waterfall poured over the eaves.

  As she waited, the tempest worsened. Legs of lightning supported the angry thunderclaps as they marched east. Victoria worried her lower lip, struggling to evade the bittersweet press of memories. No matter how hard she tried, the past remained inescapable and ever-present. The harder she tried not to think about Daniel, the more he occupied her thoughts.

  Everything reminded her of him, especially storms.

  Daniel had loved the spectacular lightning squalls that lit up the Arizona desert during the summer months. In defiance of safety and common sense, he always rushed outside and turned his face toward the sky. Wearing a maddened grin, he stood there until the wind blasted his hair back and water slicked it against his skull.

  Despite her fears and reluctance, Daniel had chased her long and hard. Months slipped past, and his persistence gradually wore down her resistance. As summer turned into fall, they spent more and more time together. They retreated to the desert, far from the prying eyes of the people who would have disapproved.

  "The thing I love best about Arizona is the sunsets," Victoria mused with a smile. Glorious strips of orange and red streaked the horizon just above the mountains to the west. Higher in the sky, purple clouds formed a wavy weave. A forceful wind blew from the east, and sturdy Saguaro cacti raised their thick arms in defiance. Dark storm clouds roiled in the east–a brooding monsoon moving off the Gulf of Mexico. In August, the remarkable storms arrived regularly in the late afternoon to early evenings.

  She and Daniel lay side by side stretched out across the hood of the Chevelle. The heated metal warmed her back, and the muscular bicep of the man beside her served as a solid headrest. Contented, she wallowed in the fragile, fleeting wink of happiness. Perfect moments carried a momentous value that few people understood or properly cherished.

  "Look at that!" Daniel jerked upright and flung his arm toward the east where bright lancing bolts arced from the sky to strike the ground below.

  Disgruntled at losing her pillow, she sat up. "It's just another thunderstorm."

  Miles distant, the vista lit with a lightning flash. Thunder followed in a lazy roll, a deep percussion booming. Victoria scented the air but smelled more wind-borne dust than moisture. She doubted the tempest carried much rain in its wide arms.

  "It's more than that." Grinning, Daniel captured her wrist and dragged her hand toward him. He positioned her palm over his heart. "Do you feel that?"

  Strong. Throbbing. Passion. Power.

  The essence of the man.

  She nodded her head, convinced she did indeed understand. He stole her breath much as he'd stolen her heart. To protect herself, she fostered an easy smile and twisted to glance over her shoulder. "We'd better put the top up."

  His hand caught the side of her head, fingers spread wide and points positioned behind her ear, pinky tucked beneath her jaw. He captured her gaze. "The thing I love best about Arizona is you."

  Her grin faltered. So much raw determination in his chocolate brown eyes. Always one to do things the difficult way, Victoria challenged him. "Only in Arizona?"

  "Always. Forever." He leaned in and kissed her. Claimed her.

  Their lips parted. She exhaled on his indrawn breath. "I love you too."

  Fuck. Victoria ripped her mind from the reverie and took a shaky step. She forced her clenched fists to open. Sucking down a soggy breath, she abandoned the shelter of the eaves and walked into the rain. Droplets struck her face and washed away her tears.

  Desperate for a distraction, she checked the time. An hour and a half since Jake had left. She wondered where he was, and her imagination conjured all sorts of awful scenarios for why he hadn't returned yet. Finally, she couldn't take the not knowing anymore. Abandoning her resolution not to contact her pack, she gripped her phone and made the call.

  Sylvie answered on the first ring. Her tight voice conveyed distress tempered by relief. "Thank the goddess, Victory. Where have you been? Do you have Jasper? We've been worried sick waiting for you to call."

  She smiled at the welcome sound of her friend's voice. "I'm fine. I don't have Jasper yet, but we slayed the monster and saved the kidnapped children. Is Rand okay?"

  "Still as ornery as ever." A telltale pause followed, and then Sylvie asked, "We?"

  "Jake Barrett."

  The Skald groaned. "I suppose it's a blessing you're still alive."

  "I'm working on getting Jasper back." Victoria infused her voice with confidence she didn't really feel. "Where are you?"

  "We're on the northern outskirts of town," Sylvie said. "We couldn't go any farther without losing all the bars on the phone."

  "The plan hasn't changed," Victoria said. "Wait there until dawn. If Jasper and I aren't back by sunrise, then head north to Santa Fe." Her voice caught in her throat. "Sylvie..."

  Sylvie's voice grew tight. "What is it, Victory?"

  "If I'm not back with Jasper, then you're to keep going. Don't allow Rand to come after me, even if you have to club him over the head. As your Alpha, that's an order. Do you understand me?"

  The silence bristled with disapproval, but Sylvie gave a clipped reply. "I understand."

  "Goddess watch over us," Victoria said, sending a quick prayer to Freya.

  Sounding displeased, Sylvie echoed her words. "Goddess watch over you, Victoria Storm."

  They ended the call.
<
br />   She checked the clock on her phone and saw the hunter had been gone almost an hour and forty-five minutes. Her wolf roiled with turmoil. Her teeth sank into her lower lip, breaking skin, and she tasted the saltiness of blood on her tongue. Her instincts screamed something was wrong. She felt it in her gut.

  Using her phone's call log, Victoria located Jake Barrett's number and hit dial. It rang twice before he answered.

  "Hold on a second." His heavy breathing indicated physical exertion. In the background, she heard men shouting. And Jasper's voice, full of fear and anger, rose in a yell, but his words were unrecognizable.

  "Barrett, what the hell is going on?" Fear crawled along the length of her spine, digging in with bony fingers. Dread pooled in her stomach.

  Jake shouted over Victoria's demands. "No, lower your weapons."

  "Damn it, Barrett, tell me—" Victoria's hands shook, and she feared her grip would crush the cell phone. She couldn't stand still. In desperation, she raced across the parking lot, running without direction.

  The blast of a shotgun deafened her.

  Victoria stumbled and stopped. Through the pack bond, she experienced Jasper's death as a blow to the heart, a severed limb, the demise of a soul. Shattered, an agonized howl tore from her throat, and she fell to her knees on the black pavement of the lot. Her cry of loss and sorrow rose above the din of city sounds, soaring into the night.

  Jasper dead. How? Why?

  Her pack experienced the boy's death also. Through their spiritual connection, she sensed her pack mates. She felt their rage and sorrow and heard their mourning howls even though they were miles distant, beyond the range of sound. When a child was lost, they all suffered.

  Victoria's howl ended on a gasp. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Sucking air into her starved lungs, she brought the phone to her face.

  "Why?" she asked, croaking the question.

  "He wasn't supposed to get hurt." Disbelief colored Jake’s voice.

  Rage. Cruel, vicious rage crashed through her heart, blinding her to all else. She hissed. "You're the same as that krampus, Jake Barrett, a child thief who murders innocents. If it's the last thing I do, I'll make you pay. I swear to my goddess and on my honor as a Valkyrie. I'll have revenge."

  Before he replied, she hurled the phone at the side of the building with all her immense strength. The device exploded into a hundred pieces. In that moment, she would have gladly ripped every member of the Barrett family to bloody shreds. She settled for destroying Jake's shirt instead.

  Tears streaked her cheeks, but hatred defined her existence. The primal energy fueled her transformation to a wolf, shedding her human form and her humanity. Tilting her muzzle toward the moon, she roared her fury. In her heart, she committed to bloody, awful vengeance.

  The voice of her goddess broke through her rage. Freya's silken contralto filled her mind, imposing inner peace. Abide, Victoria. Jasper gave his life for you. He refused to allow your sacrifice.

  Victoria hesitated. Pleading, she asked, Goddess, why would he kill Jasper? I was going to give myself up. I gave my word. He accepted it.

  Jasper tried to escape, and they murdered him. His soul is lost to us. He has gone to Niflheim, Hel's domain. He is damned.

  Oh, Goddess. Please. No. Whimpering, the white wolf crouched close to the ground. In the gloomy underworld, Jasper's soul would suffer unspeakable torment. No worse fate could have befallen him.

  Freya's golden voice filled her mind, drowning out all else, even thoughts of revenge. Run, My Priestess. Run. For the sake of your pack, run. They need you. Death awaits you if you confront the hunters now.

  I'll avenge him. If it's the last thing I ever do. I'll avenge Daniel, my parents, my pack. Everyone. A broken woman, she staggered to her feet and took an unsteady step.

  To exact revenge for this cruelty would break you, Victoria. For the sake of your pack, for those who love you and whom you love, run.

  I pledge my soul to revenge. Victoria swore to her goddess. On my honor, and my family's name. I'll have a Valkyrie's vengeance.

  Freya's voice grew assertive. Swear to seek justice, not revenge, and I shall witness your oath.

  She balked, desiring to argue. Then she stopped. In that moment, she didn’t see any difference between revenge and justice. One way or another, the result was the same. So what did it matter which she swore to?

  She chose the right words to receive her goddess's blessing while committing to revenge in her heart. I swear to seek justice. On my honor, and my family's name.

  Blinding light destroyed Victoria's vision. Freya's voice filled her thoughts. Your pledge is witnessed. Now run. Find your pack and run.

  Blinking until her vision restored, she took a faltering step and then another. When she could see again, she broke into a gallop, giving free reign to her wolf. Her goddess commanded her, so she ran.

  Revenge remained in her heart. Victoria no longer believed in justice, whether she was sworn to it or not.

  The End.

  I hope you enjoyed Valkyrie's Vengeance. Reviews are always appreciated! Don't forget to join my newsletter for free reads, exclusive sneak peeks, and giveaways. And please check out Hunger Moon, the first book in the Loki's Wolves series.

  HUNGER MOON

  "4.5 stars Top Pick!" Night Owl Reviews

  "4.5 stars!" Long and Short Reviews

  Loki's Wolves Book 1

  Rage—

  "Goddess, rage in our hearts and our enemies', it consumes us and we suffer. Are we to live like this forever?"

  "Victoria, it is your choice. What life do you wish to lead?"

  "You killed my brother, bitch."

  "Worry about your own life, Sawyer. Daniel is dead."

  Victoria held the blade of her dagger even with his jawline, against the strong column of his throat. Cold steel kissed flesh, but she lacked the will to make the final thrust to sever his carotid artery.

  "Because of you." His brown eyes blazed with hatred, more intense and consuming than the inferno raging around them.

  Every part of the warehouse was on fire, and there was no way to know how much longer the structure would stand. Cinder and smoke swirled everywhere.

  Red-hot embers dusted the bare skin of her face and arms faster than her enhanced healing could repair the damage, but she didn't feel the burn. Fury consumed her heart and protected her from the wrath of flames, but the pain of her loss, the weight of her guilt, crippled her.

  "Yes, because of me," she said. She blinked back tears. She should kill him. There was no other choice, because the survival of her pack depended upon stopping the hunters who pursued them, the hunters he led. Doubt stilled her hand. The man's life hung in fragile balance between her desire for revenge and uncertainty.

  "Do it," Sawyer said with a sneer, as if he sensed her hesitation. She straddled his chest, keeping one of his arms pinned against his side with her knee. His free hand groped for the shotgun on the ground, just out of reach.

  "Has your death wish gotten so strong you're committed to joining him?" She sniffed, attempting to scent his fear, but inhaled a lungful of thick smoke that scalded her throat. Tears filled her eyes and a cough racked her chest.

  "I'm going to rip you to shreds." Teeth bared, Sawyer's upper body heaved while he attempted to unseat her. The hunter had plenty of fight in him. Her wolf's strength far exceeded that of any human, even a skilled hunter such as a Barrett man. He gave up obtaining the shotgun and grabbed for her throat with his free hand.

  Victoria placed her palm flat on his breastbone and shoved him back.

  "Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before, and yet I'm still here. I'm starting to think you're incompetent, Sawyer."

  "Give me a knife. I'll show you incompetent!"

  "Now, why would I do something stupid like that?" Despite her taunting tone, doubt twisted her gut into knots. Her hand remained rock steady. The dagger never wavered; the fine edge of the blade bit into his flesh and drew a thin line of blood across the s
ide of his throat.

  He's Daniel's brother.

  He was also the man who had helped murder her parents and most of her packmates.

  The pain of the cut caused Sawyer to grunt; his throat worked while he swallowed, a convulsive clench that betrayed his fear, though his features remained set in a stoic mask.

  A hand brushed her wrist, confident and intimate, cool to the touch. Victoria glanced up to stare into a face she knew by heart, every plane and angle committed to memory, although he was far more handsome than her imperfect recollection.

  She stiffened.

  Impossible! It can't be.

  She gazed into the man's familiar face, and the entire world beyond his warm brown eyes ceased to exist: the fire, her pack, the man at the business end of her knife—all of it simply stopped.

  She blinked, and her surprise faded. Her mind made the logical leap: it was possible.

  He's a ghost.

  A strangled snarl emerged from Sawyer's throat, but Victoria did not look at him. The hunter shouldn't have been able to see his brother's ghost. He lacked her gift of spirit sight. She kept a steady grip on the hilt, discouraging him from moving lest he slit his own throat on the blade.

  "Daniel?" she whispered. The roar of the inferno engulfed her voice.

  A faint smile fluttered across his lips but the expression remained deadly serious. His hand locked tightly about her wrist. Daniel leaned forward. His lips feathered a soft kiss upon the shell of her ear. His honeyed voice murmured as sweet as her memories, causing her excruciating pain, soul deep. She missed him so damned much.

  "Not my brother, lover. You can't kill Sawyer."

  Victoria's fingers relaxed. The knife fell from her hand. "I won't, for you."

  Daniel turned his head and looked his brother in the eye. "There's been enough killing."

  Sawyer's features contorted in agony and his hand rose, reaching for his brother. "Danny, I—"

  Before Sawyer's hand touched his brother's face, Daniel's body lost substance. Energy crackled in the air, and his form shimmered about the edges. His firm grip grew weaker with each passing second until his hand opened, and he released her wrist.

 

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