Page 66 of Fenrir

Someone ground his knee deeper into her back, and she grunted.

“Let me go, and I will.”

Her father released her head. “I can just as easily cut you on the ground. Besides, when you’re dead, your compulsion will die with you.” Then without pretense, he stabbed her right between her throat and shoulder.

Grace screamed, and the fabric was shoved back into her mouth, where she gagged and choked as tears swelled in her eyes. Pain shot through her entire body, and warm blood flowed down her neck and pooled by her head.

Her spirit self burst forward, and white hair sprouted on Grace’s arms.

Shit. The burn of the dagger seeped into her bones as her father stood, leaving the metal embedded into her flesh.

She reached out through her connection to Fenrir.

Fen! I need you!

She was sure he wouldn’t hear her, but it didn’t stop her from calling out for him anyway. She couldn’t hold back the shakes that took over her body as tears leaked down her face and mixed with the blood and dirt near her head.

“Now we wait,” he said. “It shouldn’t take long if the Goddess believes you are truly in danger of dying. After all, she is a mother, right? Mother’s instincts and all that bull.”

Grace’s head began to fuzz over as more blood pooled around her head. Her father pushed her hair from her face and peered into her eyes.

“Losing consciousness?” He pulled back her ripped shirt and looked at the wound. “Yeah. You’ll lose a bit of blood. Not enough to kill you, but you probably have two or three minutes before you pass out.”

Grace tried to think but couldn’t seem to make her mind concentrate on her situation.

Her entire life, she’d wanted a father. She’d hoped night after night that he would return. She’d spent so many hours praying to her mother to bring him back. She finally realized it wasn’t because she had missed anything in her life, but because she knew Fay missed him. Memories surfaced.

Fay crying. Talking to Robin in hushed whispers. Others looking at Fay with a mixture of sadness and anxiety. The way every once in a while, Fay would set the table with three plates instead of two and then seem to remember something and put the third place setting away. And most of all, how Fay never changed a single thing about the house. She’d even just closed the door to her father’s room and not touched it. Once a year near Grace’s birthday, she would find the door open a crack when she got back from school, and she’d find Fay sitting in the chair at his desk, just staring out the window.

Grace’s chest squeezed. Would that happen to Fenrir if she died? Would he go to her room in the house with Brigeeta and Vivian, sit on her bed, and stare out the window?

No. She wouldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let that happen. He’d already been through too much.

Fury bubbled inside Grace. She refused to be slaughtered like a pig in a butcher shop. Her spirit self rose even closer to the surface, and her nails turned into talons.

No. Not yet.

Grace let her eyes flutter shut and relaxed all her muscles. She evened out her breathing and stayed motionless for several minutes.

Suddenly someone ground the knife deeper, causing pain to shoot through her once more, but she didn’t move.

The fingers pulled away, and more blood pooled down by her ear.

“She’s out,” said her father. “It won’t be long now. Let’s prepare. You all know your orders.”

The pairs of hands holding her down released her, and the knee in her back moved away.

Grace continued to lay and wait as the footsteps moved away from her. She opened her eyes a fraction enough to see her brothers dragging something near the fire. She took a deep breath and moved ever so slightly to ensure nothing had been broken in her body. Her legs ached, and her back hurt, but there wasn’t any real damage besides possibly a few bruises.

She reached out for Fenrir again and was surprised to find that the connection was stronger. He was closer. Much closer. The thought gave her strength. She needed to get up. She needed to hide until he could get there. She wasn’t a weak damsel in distress, but she wasn’t a fighter either, and with her injury, she needed to just stay alive until Fenrir could find her. And once he did, the best thing she could do was stay out of his way.

She waited for the right moment, and when she couldn’t see her father anywhere, and the other males seemed to be busy with whatever they were doing, she slowly pulled her knees in close and took a deep breath.

Her spirit legs were faster and more powerful than her human-formed legs, so she let her legs lengthen, and her feet rip through her shoes.

It’s now or never.

Without waiting a minute, she leapt to her feet and tore off toward the trees.

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