Page 68 of The Gathering Storm

Chapter Eighteen

Will took his time turning around to greet his mother, and kept one hand firmly on Sigrid’s arm. The way he figured it, she was his now, won fair and square, and screw anybody who got between them. If his mom wanted to join that group, so be it.

When he finally turned around, Wilhelmina’s icy fury betrayed itself in the hot glare of her gaze. He sighed and flicked a glance at his dad. “There’s a room set up for challenge mediation.”

Troy nodded and opened his mouth to speak.

Wilhelmina shook her head, interrupting him. “There’s nothing to mediate here.”

“Willie,” Troy said, a warning note in his voice.

Will clenched his teeth together. “We’re making a scene, not to mention that there are more challenges coming up, including one between the director and Lukas Alexiou.”

Wilhelmina’s jaws snapped shut. “Very well.”

Will threaded his fingers through Sigrid’s and silently lead the small group away, weaving around the teenagers readying to clean the mat for the next match. The murmurs of the people crowding the bleachers faded into a dull roar by the time they reached the room near the men’s locker room, normally reserved for visiting coaches. The outer door snicked shut, silencing the crowd, highlighting the squeak of their shoes against the waxed floor.

Will opened the mediation room’s door and held it as Casey, Sigrid, and his parents filed inside, then closed it and leaned back against it, his arms crossed over his chest.

Wilhelmina took three steps into the room and whirled on him, seemingly unmindful of the tight fit of their group among a row of lockers to one side, a desk against one wall, and two chairs in front of it.

“This is unacceptable,” she said. “I’m asking for a rematch.”

Will shrugged one shoulder. “You can try.”

Sigrid cut a silencing glance at him. “On what grounds?”

“The unsuitability of the match.” Wilhelmina tossed her head back, sending her dark blonde curls flying around her shoulders. “The inability of the winner to meet my terms.”

Will dropped his hands to his sides. “What terms?”

His mother’s mouth tightened. “She knows.”

“I agreed to meet your conditions prior to the challenge,” Sigrid said evenly. A thin thread of fatigue underscored the words. “What more do you want?”

“All of it.” The words were nearly spat out. “Everything you have, and full physical Retribution when you discard him.”

Fury whipped through Will. He shoved himself away from the door and in two strides stood toe to toe with his mother. “Fuck that, Mom. I’d rather walk out right now than submit her to Retribution.”

Wilhelmina smiled coldly. “Then walk out.”

Sigrid’s already pale skin leeched of color. “Will.”

He shook his head. “If that’s what she wants, that’s what she’ll get. C’mon.”

He held his hand out to Sigrid. Her eyes widened, so blue, they nearly glowed. “You don’t know what you’re doing, Will.”

“Oh, I’m well aware.”

He left his hand hanging in the air between them, his gaze glued to his mother’s, and waited. Wilhelmina thrust her chin out, her shoulders stiff and ungiving as Casey clasped her hands together at her waist and bit her lip, worrying it between white teeth.

Troy placed a gentle hand on his wife’s shoulder, then glanced at Will. “Do what you have to, son.”

“I am, Dad.” Will wiggled his fingers at Sigrid and deliberately softened his voice. “Come on, honey. Let me take you home and tend to those bruises.”

Sigrid hesitated, her mouth a thin line in her face, and for a moment Will’s heart flipped over in his chest and unease tightened his skin. Would she really turn him down after winning the challenge with Chana? Would she really forsake him now, when he’d thrown his mother’s ridiculous demands in her face?

Finally, Sigrid placed her hand in his, and relief whooshed out of him in a silent sigh.

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