Page 85 of Scornful

The door opens, and Astrid enters with Ingrid.

I told them to stay at the clubhouse, but I'm not surprised they didn't listen.

"Where’s Njal?" Ingrid searches my face, then looks around the room.

I point across the hall, "Waiting room is over there, little one."

Ingrid whips her head around and spots the rest of Bjorn’s family, leaving the three of us here.

Njal spots her and greets her at the entrance of the waiting room.

I assume she’s asking about Bjorn, wanting to know what’s going on.

"Still in surgery," Njal tells her, and he puts an arm around Ingrid's shoulders—a brotherly gesture, or so it seems. "He's strong, Ingrid. He'll pull through. I know how much you mean to my brother."

The words are innocent enough, but something in Ingrid's reaction makes me look twice.

The way she leans into Njal's arms, the tears that spring to her eyes.

There's more there than just a friendship concern if you ask me, but I file it away for later.

Not my business, and we've got bigger problems right now.

Astrid catches my eye, and I can see the question there.

I give a small shake of my head—no news yet.

The next couple of hours crawl by.

I coordinate security rotations via my burner phone, check in with the clubhouse, and keep an eye on Kraken’s family.

Astrid stays close to Magnolia, offering her some quiet comfort.

It's a side of her I haven't seen much—the caretaker, the one who holds others together while they fall apart.

Ingrid hasn't left Njal's side, both teenagers trying to be strong for each other.

I catch snippets of their conversation—memories of Bjorn, stupid shit he's done, trouble he's gotten into.

Normal kid stuff that might be lost forever.

Finally, a surgeon emerges.

He looks exhausted, scrubs rumpled, and my gut clenches at his expression.

That's not the face of someone bringing good news. "Strömberg family?"

Magnolia shoots to her feet. "I'm his mother. How is he? How's my baby boy?"

The surgeon's voice is gentle but he speaks from a clinical perspective. "Bjorn made it through surgery. However, the damage to his left leg was too extensive. We had to amputate below the knee."

The sound Magnolia makes could shatter glass.

She collapses, and Kraken catches her, his own face carved from stone, but I see his hands shake, see the way his throat works as he swallows his own grief.

"Additionally, he has second and third-degree burns across thirty percent of his body, primarily on his back and arms. He'll need multiple skin grafts, months of physical therapy. But he's young, strong. He'll adapt."

Adapt, like losing a leg at sixteen is something you just adapt to, like waking up missing a piece of yourself is just another teenage hurdle.

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