Ingrid.
Red hair.
Green eyes.
The way she looked at me before I left.
Come back to me.
I promised.
I fucking promised.
"That's it." Hakon's voice sounds far away. "Keep thinking about her. We're almost there."
I try to hold on.
Try to stay awake.
But the darkness is pulling at me.
Cold and heavy and impossible to resist.
The last thing I hear is Fenrir on the phone. "Get Aesir and Vail to the clubhouse. Gunnar's hurt bad. Real bad. And call Ingrid—she needs to know."
Then nothing.
Just darkness.
And the fading hope that I'll get to keep my promise.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ingrid
Gunnar's room feels too quiet without him in it.
I'm curled up in his bed, wrapped in sheets that smell like him—leather and soap and something underneath that's just Gunnar.
My phone sits on the pillow beside me, screen dark, mocking me with its silence.
He's been gone for two hours.
Two hours of staring at the ceiling.
Two hours of checking my phone every thirty seconds.
Two hours of trying not to imagine all the ways this night could end badly.
I should've said it.
When he told me he loved me, I should've said it back.
Instead I choked.
Told him to come back.
Like that was enough.
