My breaths turn quick and short. Panic seizes me.
Get angry, Gunnar once told me.Surrender to your rage.
I need to access my anger like I did when I was standing in the wilderness. I have to get to that level of emotion to do the scream.
The scent of blood is so thick it’s suffocating. Everywhere I look, I see the brutal scene I witnessed as a child playing out all around me.
Standing here, I feel like that little girl again.
I think of Mom. Of all the times she chose to remain quiet rather than make things worse. All the times she did things she didn’t want to because she knew otherwise she’d be yelled at. Punished. Because it was never how much she did for him that mattered. He only cared about the things she didn’t do.
And I realize now how deeply unfair it is that so much of her time, her energy, herlife, was spent making herself smaller, submissive, obedient. She ignored her own anger for so long, letting it build and build with no release until the day she died.
Fuck that.
A scream rips from me. My body suddenly feels too tight, too small to cage my anger. Rage from a lifetime of hearingshe asked for itornever walk alone at nightorjust calm down.
There is nothing quiet about my anger. Not anymore. This rage is all-consuming. Primal.Powerful.It brings me crashing to my knees. My head feels ready to explode, and my eyes ache from the unrelenting pressure, but this time, it’s working.
My scream sends a burst of energy traveling through the gym.
As soon as I release it, the berserkir are blasted back—wolves pin their ears, bears cover their own, and boars shake their heads wildly, trying to rid themselves of the sound. Blood mats their fur aroundtheir ears, but I still don’t stop. Not until they’re human again.
The berserkir topple over, knocked unconscious.
By the time they hit the ground, they turn human. Naked bodies sprawl over the gym floor, unmoving. Covered in blood, they look like they could be corpses. Panic seizes me. I didn’t kill them, did I? The skrækr is only supposed to turn them human, right?
I stop screaming and scramble over to Tala.
“Tala?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
I check her pulse.
Still alive.
Blood stains her chin, her chest. Her eyes move rapidly beneath her eyelids.
She must be struggling for control of her body.
Her eyelashes flutter.
Tala opens her eyes—they’re a familiar shade of brown.
“Edith?” she rasps, blinking. “Where am—”
I wrap my arms around her, hugging her tightly. “You’re back.”
“Ow, too tight.”
“Sorry, sorry.” I pull back quickly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
I take her hands and help her up. As Tala stands, Valerie sags with relief.
Kris rushes over to us, throwing their arms around me and Tala. “Holy shit, you did it.”
A loud laugh escapes me. I don’t even care that they’re both naked right now. They’reokay—that’s all that matters.
Slowly, the other berserkir start to wake.
