Page 77 of Heart of the Wolf
Reluctantly, Amund led Astrid from the longhouse with one arm wrapped possessively around her waist, the other gripping his axe as if prepared for an attack the moment they stepped outside.
“How will this be done?” Leif asked, his voice cold and devoid of emotion, sending a chill through her veins.
“You will call for a meeting of the clans and announce it there.”
“All the leaders are on longships,” he said, eyeing the bloodied dagger. “That could take weeks. In the meantime?”
A malicious smile twisted her feral features. “I have two cells prepared for you.”
“My kona will not give birth in some dingy cell,” he grunted, a vein throbbing in his throat.
The pain in her arm overloaded all her senses, clouding her vision. Leif was close, close enough that he could attack Herja, but not before she plunged her dagger into Brielle’s stomach. Her wolf knew that. The calmness faded from him, the fiery rage flaring once more, and Brielle did not have the strength anymore to ease it.
Herja’s blade poked her belly.
All it would take was a slight movement for the tip to slice Brielle. Thick clouds of oakmoss billowed from Herja, the stench so potent, Brielle gagged.
Fighting the urge to vomit, Brielle blinked, trying to see Leif clearly. They were at a crossroads. Leif was troubled, willing to do anything to protect her and their baby.
Even if that meant surrendering himself to a traitor.
She had to help him.
As tension grew in the eerie silence, Herja moved closer to Brielle, almost straddling her legs, trying to make some disgusting claim on her. A guttural snarl howled from within Leif’s chest, his wolf on the precipice of breaking free.
When he was the wolf, Leif kept control. He couldn’t speak, but his conscience was at the forefront. Brielle saw it in his eyes, the wolf clawing at the surface, begging for release. Icy shards splintered into the gray, and soon, Leif wouldn’t be able to stop it.
Doing the only thing she could, Brielle raised her leg and kicked hard between Herja’s legs. The woman screamed, the dagger dropping to the floor with a thud. An untamed ferocity glowed in Leif’s gaze as he changed, his immense wolf shaking the ground.
Herja shrieked a sound of pure terror, fumbling as she desperately searched for her weapon. Mustering what little strength she had, Brielle extended her foot, booting the dagger away. The wolf stalked the wild mane of raven hair, its shoulders rising and falling with each thud of its paws on the muddy floor.
Herja fell backwards, trying to crawl away.
And failed.
For the first time in hours, Brielle’s body relaxed, watching as Leif cornered his prey. Her usually ruthless wolf toyed with his kill, batted at Herja’s boots. With a lazy swipe of his claws, Leif tore through Herja’s silks, making blood sprout from the shallow cuts on her chest.
Drool dripped from his fangs as he snapped at her trembling figure. Her tiny hands shoved at the wolf, unable to move him. A chilling howl made the hairs on the back of Brielle’s neck prickle.
“Please,” Herja whimpered, scratching pathetically at the wolf’s face.
The wolf’s frame shook with a rumbling sound, something almost akin to laughter. Massive paws pressed on Herja’s shoulders, one at a time, the bones snapping with a wet crack before a guttural wail pierced the stagnant space.
Slowly, Leif turned his icy eyes until they found Brielle’s. The pain subsided briefly, heat warming her strained body. Those deadly, primal eyes softened, soothing her before returning to the bloodied quarry beneath it.
“Úlfr. My wolf,” she said loud enough for him to hear. The wolf’s head snapped back to hers instantly. “End it, please. I want to go home.”
Something flickered in the wolf’s gaze, an uncertainty Brielle hadn’t seen before. She understood the anguish completely; it was a unique kind of pain to extinguish light from someone you once loved.
Brielle didn’t doubt that there had been a time Leif loved his mother’s sister just as she had once loved her father.
Time, power, and hate twisted both of them.
However, as quickly as the hesitation came, it dissolved, replaced with a fierce resoluteness in her wolf instead.
Brielle’s body started to give in to its injuries, the force of it a crushing weight on her shoulders. Her head throbbed, the familiar pain now overshadowed by the burning ache in her arm. A dizzy spell made her sway, blurring the room in a muddled hue of muted light.
She wasn’t worried. Her wound would heal.
