Page 82 of Sacrifice
Or more dangerous.
Tomorrow—tonight—whenever—they'll hunt. And I'll be right here, waiting, ready to do whatever needs doing.
Because that's who I am now.
Saga—Emil's woman.
Protected by my family, the Raiders of Valhalla.
And may the Gods help anyone who tries to hurt us again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Emil
The bed's too warm, Saga's body is curved against mine like she belongs there.
Because she does.
My arm throbs with each heartbeat, a steady reminder of how close I came to losing her tonight.
But she's here, safe, breathing steady against my chest.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand—2 am. Time to move.
I extract myself carefully, not wanting to wake her.
She murmurs something, burrowing deeper into the pillow that smells like my shampoo.
In the dim light from the bathroom, I can see the tear tracks on her face, the bruise forming on her shoulder from when I forcefully shielded her from the bullets.
I dress quietly—jeans, t-shirt, cut, boots.
The tactical vest will come later.
My wounded arm protests every movement, but I grit my teeth and push through.
Pain's just information.
Right now, it's telling me I'm alive and capable of finishing what Los Coyotes started.
The hallway outside is quiet except for someone’s heavy breathing.
I walk outside to see Soren, sitting in a chair, and he immediately looks at me.
I didn’t know he had a break from school, but maybe he came home when he heard what happened.
"She okay?" he asks.
"Sleeping. Nobody goes in my room except me, understood?"
"You got it, Emil."
The main room's thick with smoke and tension when I enter.
No formalkirkjasession needed—this is war council, pure and simple.
Rio, Magnus, Tor, and a handful of others cluster around a table spread with photos and maps.
