Page 58 of Tyr

Please, be alive. Please, let her father be alive. She would never forgive herself if he died because of her. And heavens help her mother if that happened. Tyr may be the God of War, but he would have nothing on Celeste for what she would do.

Celeste peered over her shoulder as The Raven Weaver disappeared from view. She should at least call Tyr and tell him the address.

Fudge nuggets!She didn’t have a phone. It was fine. She’d get to the house. Deal with her mom. Get her dad. And get her phone from her room. Tyr could pick her up when she’d dealt with it.

Besides, she needed Tyr, as well as her dad, to see she could handle herself. That she wasn’t helpless. It was the only way her dad would accept her and Tyr being together. As much as it would anger her dad, she needed to do it. She had to break the one rule he’d made her swear to when she was three. And, one way or another, she’d figure out how to use all the power locked inside her.

Tyr leanedout of the booth and tried to spot the restroom door. She’d been gone too long.

He stood.

“She’s not in there.”

“What?”

“She snuck out about ten minutes ago.”

“What?” Tyr’s heart hammered. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he demanded.

Heimdall regarded him impassively.

“Where did she go?”

Heimdall continued to stare.

Fear crept up Tyr’s spine. Real and true fear. Something he had never felt before, and that terrified him further. Then, his fear morphed into anger and red stained the edges of his view.

Tyr slammed his fist on the table, making it shake. The mug tipped over. “Dammit, Heimdall, you’re not the guardian of Asgard anymore. You are no longer under oath. Tell me where she went.”

Heimdall didn’t speak.

Tyr’s heart slammed against his ribs. His vision went crimson, and his mind whirled. Where did she go? Why would she sneak out? Was she sneaking away from him? Did she not want him?

Tyr’s gut clenched. No. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She felt the same as he did. He knew it.

“Please,” Tyr begged. “You know what happened to her before. I… I can’t lose her. Please, Heimdall. I’ll do anything. Give you anything. She’s my one. MyFylgja.”

Tyr had never begged for anything in his entire life. But for Celeste, he would get down on his knees and grovel if it meant keeping her. Whatever it took. He’d thought it earlier, and he’d meant it.

“Long Beach.”

“Why?”

“Her father.”

A million questions bombarded Tyr, and he tried to push them away and think straight. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never once lost it in battle or in life, so why now, when things were at their worst, couldn’t he think straight?

“Address. I need the address.”

Heimdall blinked and stood. “She won’t be there by the time you arrive. She’ll be somewhere else.”

“Where, Heimdall? Tell me.” Tyr couldn’t control the commanding timber of his voice any more than he could control the anger that boiled through him—or the way every person in the bar had stopped moving and now stared at them.

Heimdall grabbed his coat. “I’ll do one better. I’ll go with you.”

CHAPTER 13

Celeste steppedout of the taxi in front of the medium-sized, rundown ranch-style house that had been her whole existence for more than twenty years.

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