Metal groans as her door rips open. Through blood-streaked vision, I see massive hands grab Seraphina's limp body, dragging her from the wreckage.
"No!" I thrash against the glass, still holding me in place. My legs are crushed under the dash. My muscles burn and refuse to work. Blood pours down my face. "DON'T TOUCH HER!"
A gravelly voice laughs behind me. "Lilith sends her regards."
Feet crunch on broken glass. An engine starts. Tires squeal. The scent of werewolf and Seraphina's blood fades into the night.
Thesound that tears from my throat isn't human. It isn't even vampire. It's pure rage, pure desperation, echoing off concrete and metal as I scream her name into the darkness.
She's gone.
They took her.
Danica
43
Well, well, well. Color me shocked—not. I mean, seriously, the signs were about as subtle as a neon billboard in Times Square. Erik's possessive glances, the way Bryn orbited around him like a lovesick satellite, the palpable electricity crackling between them whenever they shared the same air.
And let's not forget that telling heartbeat when I touched his chest—
I'd call myself blind, but that would be an insult to blind people who probably sensed their connection before I did. Honestly, my PhD in Obliviousness is really paying off these days. Maybe next time I'll notice when two people are cosmically destined for each other before they start practically eye-banging across the room.
My sister, the fierce Valkyrie warrior, is none other than Mr. Broody's fated mate. And you know what? I'm absolutelythrilled. It's about damn time Erik found his other half. The man's been rocking the tortured soul vibe for so long that it's practically become his trademark look. But ever since this revelation? It's like someone lit a fire under his usually frosty ass.
I've never seen him so focused, so driven. And that display with Gunnar? Holy hell, I thought Erik was going to rip his spine out through his nostrils. Not that the asshole didn't deserve it, and then some. I mean, putting his filthy hands on my sister? He's lucky I stepped in before Erik went full-on homicidal.
But as much as I enjoyed watching Gunnar get his ass kicked was Grade-A entertainment, we've got bigger fish to fry—like, realm-saving-sized fish. Can't exactly play hero when we're busy throwing down with the Valkyrie squad, even if they deserve it for how they treated my sister. I mean, seriously? Demoting her for getting injured in battle? That's like firing a chef for burning their hand in the kitchen. Now they're side-eyeing her like she's yesterday's mead, acting like one wing somehow cancels out centuries of badassery. Please.
They couldn't be more wrong. Bryn's still the same badass she's always been. This past week has been... rough. Watching Bryn try to adapt and helping her work with one wing is like teaching someone to walk again, except with more cursing and occasional airborne accidents. Each failed attempt sends her spiraling deeper into that dark place, that "I'm not enough anymore" pit that I know all too well.
Because losing a part of yourself? That core piece that defines who you are? It's not just physical pain—it's like a cosmic bitch-slap to the face. It messes with your head and makes you question everything. But if there's one thing I know about my sister, she's a fighter. She'll claw out of this funk and return stronger than ever.
And if she needs a little help along the way? Well, that's what sassy, supportive sisters are for. That, and making sure a certain broody vampire pulls his head out of his ass and steps up to the mate plate.
Operation "Get Erik Laid" is officially a go.
I'm seeing a pattern here that I've been too occupied to notice until now. Rhyland and I? Sure, I chalked that up to destiny or whatever. Then Lucian and Sera happened, and I thought, okay, just a cosmic fluke, the universe having a laugh. But now my sister and Erik? That's not coincidence—that's a freaking pattern, and my scientist brain is kicking into overdrive.
Three vampire brothers, three women with angelic DNA. These fanged fossils haven't found mates since mammoths were the hot new thing, and suddenly they're all matched up with heaven's genetic lottery winners? The statistical probability of that is about as likely as Emily voluntarily eating a vegetable. There's something about angelic DNA that's triggering these mate bonds, and my inner science nerd is practically salivating at the molecular implications.
The longhouse erupts into a flurry of activity as the other Vikings haul Gunnar's broken form off the floor. His pitiful moans and whimpers fade into the background as Rhyland's hand closes around mine, his grip unyielding. "Let's go."
He doesn't wait for a response, pulling me through the crowded hall with single-minded determination. The other warriors part like the Red Sea before his stormy expression, their eyes wide with respect and fear.
We reach our room at the back of the longhouse, and Rhyland doesn't break stride. He slams the door open with enough force to rattle the hinges, dragging me inside before spinning me around and crushing me against the now-closed door with his body.
Thesolid wood at my back vibrates with the impact, but it's nothing compared to the sensation of Rhyland's muscular form pinning me in place. His ocean-blue eyes blaze into mine, the intensity of his gaze stealing the breath from my lungs.
His scent envelops me—sandalwood, juniper, and the crisp tang of a winter storm. It fills my senses, making my head spin and my knees weak. But there's no escaping, no reprieve from the full force of his presence.
His eyes bore into mine, twin pools of molten blue that threaten to consume me. "Are you done now?" His words are clipped, his jaw clenched tight. "You know the truth. No more of this freezing me out bullshit, Dani."
His breath ghosts across my lips, his body a solid wall of coiled muscle and barely leashed power. Every inch of him radiates dominance, demanding submission. The air between us vibrates with tension, a livewire waiting to ignite.
Rhyland growls, "You punishing me for his actions is bullshit."
He's fuming that I've been giving him the cold shoulder all week over Erik's "little secret," even now that I know the truth, it doesn't erase that he kept me in the dark. "Listen to me carefully." I jab my finger into his chest. "Bryn is my sister. Erik is family now. This affects all of us, Rhyland. I deserved to know. Or what, you couldn't trust me with his precious secret?"
