My head jerks to the side, and jogging out of the darkness is the Viking, huge and wearing a grave expression.
“There are so many—they’re coming,” I manage to say as we run to him.
He looks behind me as Octavia barrels toward us and the men in masks pour out of the corridor. There are way too many, even for Erik.
Gasping, I hold my hand out to Tavi.
The Viking surveys the area as his hand grabs my arm.
“Come on,” he says, taking us to an even narrower passage between a pair of the oldest buildings. At Erik’s gesture, Tavi darts right into the corridor, but I suck in a breath.
“Too small. We’ll be trapped.”
Erik backs in. It’s so narrow his shoulders barely fit.
His hand jerks, gesturing for me to squeeze in. “Behind me. Right now.”
At the urgency in his voice, I move into the space, but there’s no way for me to get past him. He tries to turn enough, but it’s impossible.
Erik turns forward again and grabs me. He spins me away from him.
“Jump over. Get behind me.”
A second later, I spring up as he launches me. I fly into the air as I’ve done a million times in basket tosses. Pulling my legs tight, knees to chest, I sail straight up. He steps forward, and I extend my hands, reaching. It’s pure instinct to catch his shoulders to slow myself as I drop.
I nail the landing in a small crouch, my heart pounding.
“There’s a fence. We can’t get out,” Tavi cries breathlessly, in a panic.
“That’s all right,” the Viking says. “That means they can’t get in behind us.” His voice is hard—and oddly calm.
In seconds, the group of men appears at the mouth of the passage.
“Come out, Arya,” a menacing voice hisses. “You don’t have to get your boyfriend killed.”
Ice runs through my blood, and I freeze.
“Give her to us,” another one says.
“No.” Erik’s voice is a growl. “And if you come for her, I will break you. Back the fuck up and leave.” The menace in his voice matches theirs.
But it’s a bluff. It must be. There aresomany.
The masks, the taunting voices, and their sheer numbers are terrifying. I can’t even speak.
Two of them push forward, and a light shines on us from a phone.
Erik moves too, his hammer of a fist cracking down on the first man. The guy bounces off the wall’s corner as he drops. The others rush the Viking, and a million hands seem to reach forward, grabbing Erik’s coat and trying to drag him downward.
His fists slam into them. Some fall, but they keep coming, wobbling unsteadily over the fallen. The narrow space helps keep them contained. They try to stay upright, their hands reaching for the walls, while he’s punching and slamming them with his knee.
“My phone! I’m calling the police!” Tavi yells.
He stomps, and there’s a sickening crack. The pile of bodies rises, but they pull Erik onto it, too. One of them hits him in the head with something. He staggers, his fists still swinging.
Watching in horror as he stumbles forward toward their pounding fists, my mind screams.
I jerk off my boot and leap. Catching Erik’s shoulder, I drag myself up his back and bring my arm down as hard as I can. The spike of my boot cracks against a skull, and the front man drops onto the pile.
