Page 157 of Fallen Gods
There, at the bottom. A raised square shape. I’m almost there. I can do this.
The current pulls me away, and then it shifts, almost like it recognizes me. With a violent shove, it slams me against the floor, anchoring me in place.
I wrap my hand around the hammer, hold tight. My chest convulses with the need to breathe, to let panic take over in the all-consuming water, but I try not to listen. I’ve got it. I’m nearlythere.
But when I push off the muddy bottom, I don’t move.
The water refuses. It pins me, iron-heavy.
I kick again, terror flaring as my throat tightens, desperate for air.
Mjölnir let me pick it up. Why isn’t it letting me escape?
Dark edges start closing in around my vision, the warm water growing even warmer. Visions flash: Laufey planting in her garden, telling me a story. Ziva and me, laughing together over steaming cups of to-go coffee. Aric. Teasing me. Loving me. Protecting me.
I know it’s the end, and I should feel alone. But I’m not alone. They’re all here with me.
That’s when I see a murky shape swimming toward me. I can barely make it out, but I know it’s him.
Rowen.
He came for me.
I grab his outstretched arm with my free hand, grip so tight that my nails dig into his skin. Together we launch upward, the current slicing past us as though it’s suddenly letting go. We break the surface in a burst of spray, gasping, and collapse against the stone steps.
My teeth chatter, my lungs burn raw, my vision blurred from lack of oxygen. Body trembling, I drag myself across the floor, eyes immediately searching for Aric. He’s still where I left him, but at least Reeve’s no longer got him at sword point.
Rowen stands.
“Thank you,” I rasp, every breath jagged, pulling the strings on my corset loose to breathe easier. “For saving me.”
Father’s laugh rolls across the chamber like thunder. “Do you really think it’s about you?”
Rowen cuts him a glare. “Keep your word.”
Odin’s eyes gleam, too bright, too hungry. “Your time startsnow.”
Time? Time for what? I don’t understand.
Rowen lifts me, his grip ironclad, and sets me on my unsteady feet. He pries the box from my hand.
When he flicks it open, my world splinters.
It isn’t Mjölnir.
It’s not Thor’s hammer.
I failed.
Chapter Eighty-One
Rey
I stare for a few seconds in disbelief.
Then a scream, raw and blood-soaked, tears out of me before I even realize it’s mine. “No. No, no—” My voice breaks. “This is wrong! You said it would lead to the hammer!” I yell at my father. “You promised if I did this one thing…”
I can’t fight without Mjölnir.
