Page 73 of Heart of the Wolf
It wasn’t long before Leif pieced together what happened.
“Two attackers,” he mumbled, sighing when there were no signs of blood.
Whoever took them didn’t hurt them. Not at first, at least. That meant they wanted something; that there was a chance his kona and sister were unharmed.
The looming storm moved out over the ocean, the rain ceasing and the dark clouds moving toward the horizon. Heavy braids framed his face, drops of water dripping from them onto the sand. Fingers closed around his shoulder when Amund urged Leif to his feet.
“Úlfr,” he said, a feral possessiveness in his gaze. “Are we going? Should I gather more warriors?”
“No. They don’t want a battle,” Leif hissed, running his fingers through the snarls in his hair. “Weak and scared. They cannot win. They want me. Us. Rule of the clans. So, they stole them. Took what wasn’t theirs.”
A broken and primal sound carried out over the waves as Amund’s nostrils flared. If he ground his teeth together any harder, they would crumble into ash. Astrid may have been Leif’s sister, but she was the lifeblood that sustained Amund. Without her, his jarl would wither away until all that remained was a shadowy wisp. Not that he would be any better.
In every lifetime, Brielle was his. And now, someone thought it was wise to steal away his kona and his daughter.
Every star foretold the birth of their daughter. Yet, Brielle was stubborn. Just the way he liked her. He would have her no other way. A pained roar ripped from his throat, leaving it hoarse and rough.
Somebody wished to barter with the lives of his family. Gods save them, because no one else would.
“Only us,” Leif said. “Liv, protect my people in our absence.”
“Yes, Úlfr,” she said, resting a hand over her heart before disappearing from where she came.
The rain may have washed away many of the tracks, but he could still scent the sweet smell of his kona. Wildflowers and spring rain. He would find them. Tossing his axe to Amund, Leif shifted, the earth rumbling as his paws buried into the wet sand.
Sitting back on his haunches, Leif knocked his head back, barking a guttural howl. The trees shook from its force, startling birds from their perches. He snapped his jaw, hoping whoever took Brielle heard and knew of their impending death.
Slowly, he moved through the forest, sniffing to follow the faded hints of daisies that carried on the breeze.
When in his wolf, everything was intensified, but his mind had a singular focus.
Mate. Mate. Mate.
Quiet footsteps padded alongside him, Amund’s rage barely simmering beneath the surface. Usually, his jarl was stoic and strong, a steadiness to Leif’s brashness.
But with Astrid gone, he became wild and uncontrolled. Normally, Leif would revel in a bloodthirsty jarl, but he didn’t think that would bode well for them today. His wolf panted at the thought, wanting nothing more than to spill blood, to ravage the person or people who dared to touch what belonged to him.
Most of the clans were close, and Leif had an inkling that his nose would lead them to the coastal clan. They wereunassuming, and most were in awe of Leif and his wolf, but there was one who exuded influence over the others, one who was not happy with his decisions. Leif’s choice of kona angered her, as it had Styrr.
That, along with a decade’s worth of jealousy, made her dangerous.
Brielle’s sweet scent carried along the tree line, mixing with an earthier oak moss that made Leif’s snout twitch. The forest opened to the mouth of the sea. A massive, wooden gate barred their entrance, with tall oaken pillars surrounding the village.
It was a fortress.
Leif turned in a circle, snarling and growling at the offending blockage. Brielle’s scent had grown strong; she was here.
Amund rapped harshly on the gate with the butt of his axe, any lingering light fleeing from his gaze.
“Your Konungr demands passage. Open the gate,” he hissed, his voice teeming with venom.
When the wood creaked with the sound of the pulley groaning to life, Leif’s ears twitched in surprise. He wasn’t sure if they would let him in or let him see her. If the gnawing in the pit of his stomach was to be believed, they wanted him to see her alive and unharmed. They lost their bargaining power if Brielle or their baby were injured.
Amund shared a look with Leif, full of understanding. His jarl knew who and what waited for them on the other side.
With the gate opened, Leif lumbered inside, splaying his claws out in the tender earth.
A young thrall bowed deeply, trembling and afraid to look at him. Only a few thralls remained in some of the clans. Ones that had been taken during his father’s reign as Konungr. It wasn’t something Leif believed in. He’d outlawed the practice.
