"You know what the best part is?" Solveig continues, her voice almost conversational. "I was just going to kill her. Quick and clean, a life for a life. Poetic justice." She pauses, letting the moment stretch. "But then I found out something interesting. Something that makes this so much better than I ever imagined."
My stomach drops.
I know what's coming.
Found out in that gap between buildings, holding a plastic stick with two pink lines.
"Your daughter isn't just your daughter anymore, Runes." Solveig's smile widens, cruel and triumphant. "She's carrying your grandchild. A whole new generation of your bloodline, growing inside her right now."
The knife moves from Dalla's throat to her stomach, pressing against the bloody fabric. "I'm not just going to kill her. I'm going to cut this baby out of her while you watch. I'm going to end your entire line in one beautiful, bloody moment."
Dalla sobs, straining against her bonds. "Please?—"
"Shut up." Solveig yanks her head back by the hair. "You don't get to speak. You're just the vessel. The instrument of your father's punishment."
The rage that floods through me is unlike anything I've ever felt.
Hot and cold at the same time, so intense it makes my vision blur.
This woman is threatening my child. My baby. The future Dalla was going to tell me about tonight.
I'm going to kill her.
I'm going to put a bullet in her brain and watch the light leave her eyes.
But I can't.
Not yet. Not while she has that knife against Dalla's skin.
"You don't have to do this," Runes says, and I can hear him fighting to keep his voice calm. Negotiating. Buying time. "What happened to your mother—I'm sorry. I am. But she was hurting people. Children. I did what I had to do."
"You did what you wanted to do." Solveig's voice cracks, just for a moment. "You killed her and you walked away. You didn't think about me. You didn't think about what would happen to her daughter. You just... left."
"I didn't know about you. If I had?—"
"You would have what? Taken me in? Raised me as your own?" She laughs bitterly. "Please. You're a murderer, Runes. Just like my mother was. The only difference is you pretend to be righteous about it."
Movement at the edge of my vision.
Tor, sliding along the wall, positioning himself at an angle.
He's in his early-forties, but his eyes are sharp, his movements deliberate.
He's seen something. Planning something.
I need to keep Solveig talking.
Keep her focused on Runes, on her revenge, on anything except the threat materializing at her flank.
"Your mother was a monster," I say, drawing her attention to me. "She trafficked women. Children. She destroyed lives for profit. Whatever happened to you after—that's tragic. But it doesn't justify this."
Solveig's eyes snap to me, blazing with fury. "Who the fuck are you?"
"I'm the father of the baby you just threatened to cut out of her." I keep my voice steady, my rifle trained on her head. "And I'm the one who's going to kill you."
"Big words from a man who can't pull the trigger." She presses the knife harder against Dalla's stomach, and Dalla cries out. "Go ahead. Try it. See how fast I can open her up."
"Solveig."
