Amund steps into my path, blocking my escape. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“I’m telling you,” I say, desperation rising. “I-I didn’t kill her.”
At least, I really, really hope not.
“Save your excuses,” a new, deeper voice says.
An intimidating man emerges from the darkness. The other hunter from yesterday.
Even with my heightened hearing, I didn’t hear him approaching. He’s clad in dark leather too, but his cloak billows as he heads toward us. His sharp jaw is subdued only by a neatly trimmed beard, and one side of his dark brown hair is shaved more than the other, adding to the severity of his appearance.
The older hunter looks like a walking weapon. The little hairs on my arms rise in response.Heis dangerous in a way that Jim and Principal Matthews never were. This is a man who would hurt someone without hesitation. Especially me.
“What happened here, Amund?”
Amund stiffens. I’m guessing this must be his commander. “By the time I arrived, the student was dead already,” he says tightly. “But this berserkr was still here, so I restrained her until you arrived.”
The commander narrows his gaze. “She doesn’t look restrained to me.”
I back away from them slowly, ready to run.
Amund grabs hold of my wrist before I can get far.
“It’s been years since the last attack,” the commander says with a heavy sigh, rubbing at his beard. “Why did this have to happen now?”
He crouches down, examining Emilía’s mangled body. I try my hardest not to glance at her gruesome injuries again. The commander doesn’t seem disturbed in the slightest by a student’s death. So much for Skallagrim being safe.
I fight to free myself from Amund’s grip.
“Take her back to her dorm,” the commander says. “Ensure she doesn’t leave.”
Amund nods stiffly. “Yes, Father.”
That’s hisdad? I blink a few times, glancing between them. Now that I’m looking, I notice some of the same severity in Amund’s features that his dad has too. Yet Amund doesn’t strike terror into me the same way his dad does, even though they’re both hunters. Even though both have probably killed countless berserkir.
Amundshouldscare me. I need to remind myself of that.
“Let’s go,” Amund says, pulling me back in the direction I came from.
My legs barely move. Whatever strength I seemed to have earlier has left me in an instant.
“What about Emilía?” I ask, feeling sick to my stomach. “What will—”
His fingers tighten around my wrist. “We’re dealing with it.”
Amund doesn’t let go as he escorts me inside Odin Hall, up the stairs, and down the long, dark hallway. My head hammers with each step. None of this feels real, except for Amund’s firm grip. After what I saw, I’m glad to have someone else with me—even if he’s a hunter.
“That was my room,” I say, realizing we passed suite 223.
Amund releases me. “You’re going to open this door,” he instructs calmly. “You’re going to go inside your room and stay there until I come and get you in the morning. Do you understand?”
I nod numbly. Where would I even go?
All I want is to curl up in bed and cry.
The key is slippery in my fingers, still slick with blood. I’m shaking so hard I can barely line the key up with the hole. I stare at it blankly, wondering why my hand won’t seem to work.
Wordlessly, Amund helps me unlock the door.
