Chapter Eight

The world outside the safehouse is a tempest of noise. Cascades of rain fall in sheets, cutting through the pervasive fog clinging to Seattle. Reaper stands in the midst of this tempest, arms crossed and his amber eyes ablaze with determination.

Water drips down his beautiful face, highlighting every line and contour. The striking effect gives him a stark, primal edge that makes my heart race. Unfortunately for him, the way my blood heats is the furthest thing from my mind.

"I need to see them," I plead, my fingers clenched around the thin necklace I wear. It"s the last tangible link I have to my parents. They gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday.

I know Reaper understands my need, my desire to bid farewell to those who gave me life. But danger lurks in every shadow. And it"s his job to protect me from harm. No, not his job. It"s written into his genetic code, a biological imperative unique to his race. Fae warriors protect their mates above all else.

It"s damn inconvenient that he actually has a reason to worry right now. We"ve been in Seattle for three days. We haven"t seen a single Forsaken, but no one believes that"s because they"ve magically decided to give up. They just haven"t found us yet.

I know asking him to let me go out there means risking us being found. But they"re my parents. The newspaper said their funeral was yesterday. I didn"t get to go. But I need to say goodbye. I can"t move on until I say goodbye.

"Tori," Reaper says gently. "It"s not safe."

I pivot on him, my body radiating frustration and anger. "I can protect myself," I shoot back vehemently.

"I have no doubt that you can," he replies firmly. We both know it"s a lie. Rissa and Abigail are trying to teach me to find my Light, but I haven"t so much as sensed it in the last three days. It"s as if I healed Reaper in a vacuum. Whatever I did, I can"t seem to do it again now, no matter how hard I try. "But why risk it when you don"t have to?"

My lower lip trembles slightly before I bite down on it, trying to avoid the imminent meltdown. Why risk it?

"Because they"re my parents," I growl.

Reaper flinches, regret and consternation flashing across his beautiful face, but he doesn"t call back his words.

A low rumble of thunder echoes through the rain-soaked courtyard. Lightning strikes overhead, illuminating cracks in the cement and leaves plastered to the side of the massive warehouse the Fae converted into their safehouse.

The metal building backs up to a cliff, making it impossible for anyone to attack from behind. The Fae own the other buildings on the street, ensuring they remain vacant. This one is currently at capacity, brimming with Fae warriors and the few Blooded who were brought to Seattle.

Most were sent to safehouses outside of the city. Those sent here are the few the Fae believe capable of helping to protect us—men like Stephan and Garrison who spent time in the army.

The top floor of the warehouse has been converted to bedrooms. The warriors sleep four deep. The bottom floor is reserved for common spaces—a kitchen, meeting rooms, and a massive amount of wood. Apparently, it"s a cover, a front to explain why the Fae have so many warehouses scattered throughout the state. They own a large mill.

I stare at Reaper for a long, silent moment, my heart aching.

"They"re my parents," I say again.

"I know, little Valkyrie. I know. But it isn"t safe. We can"t allow you to go."

My shoulders droop, tears threatening to spill over. I guess that"s it, then. He"s spoken, and what I need doesn"t matter.

I turn from him, hurrying toward the back door so he doesn"t see me cry.

"Tori."

The door slams shut behind me. I hear his loud curse, and a pang strikes my heart. But I don"t turn around and go back. There"s nothing else to say on the matter. He isn"t willing to give me this one thing, the only thing I"ve asked.

It stings.

Rationally, I know I"m being unfair. It"s not his fault that he is who he is. It"s not his fault that the world is what it is. But they"re my parents and I didn"t even get to go to their funeral. I don"t want to be rational. I just want to grieve.

Tears drip down my cheeks as I wander aimlessly through the massive warehouse in search of the darkest corner—one where he won"t immediately find me. With fifty other souls crammed into this place, there aren"t many places to hide. I keep my head down to hide the fact that it"s not rain running down my face.

Abigail is in the kitchen with Adriel and Damrion. From the sounds of it, the warriors are arguing again. They"re always arguing when it comes to her. I don"t think they realize that if they"d just stop, they"d see what"s right in front of them. She loves them both.

But she"ll never be able to open her heart fully to them when she lives in fear of losing one of them because they can"t get along. They"re the only thing standing in the way of the happiness they seek. But they don"t see it. They"re too busy being angry at each other. The only person they"re hurting is each other. And Abigail.

"Tori, are you okay?" she asks, her voice soft.

"Fine," I lie, hurrying my steps as I pass through the room.

The vivacious Seer doesn"t believe me. She takes a step away from her warriors, concern etched across her lovely face. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I quickly shake my head and walk faster. "I"m fine," I say again. "Everything is fine."

She doesn"t believe me, but she lets me go.

I slip out of the room, biting my bottom lip to keep from sobbing.

It takes all my strength to keep my steps even as I escape into an empty hallway. I turn right and scurry past two of the Fae warriors, their indistinct murmuring fading into the background as I keep my eyes averted and hasten down a deserted hallway.

There are no windows in the hallway. The warehouse wasn"t designed to be beautiful. It"s a place of safety, meant for protection. Like the bedroom upstairs, the walls are painted in dark, muted tones. The floors are cement.

I spot an empty meeting room at the end of the hallway and slip into it, pulling the door closed behind me. Grief gnaws at me relentlessly, like a ravenous wolf.

"Crap," I whisper into the cold room, tasting salt on my lip as tears continue to spill. I"ve loved Reaper almost from the moment I first laid eyes on him—the Fae destined to be mine—and yet he seems miles away from me now. I need him more than ever, but for the first time since he carried me out of my prison, I feel alone.

"Everything is not fine," I confess to the room, my voice echoing. My confession hangs heavy in the air, like a dark cloud ready to burst. And with that, I let the sobs shake through me. My body is racked with violent shudders, my shoulders convulsing with each painful cry.

The door swings open, hitting the wall with a bang.

Reaper. A tumultuous storm of worry, fear, and pain fill his amber eyes as he stares at me. He"s massive, a formidable warrior. Yet, in this moment, he looks vulnerable…human.

"Tori," he whispers, as if my name is a prayer, a plea. He crosses to me in two steps, dropping to his knees before me. His enormous hands, always so capable and strong, tremble just slightly as he reaches out to touch me. The warmth of his touch seeps into my skin, grounding me as I continue to shake with sobs.

He wraps himself around me, pulling me up against his chest as if to shield me from the world outside this room—the world we"re both so desperately fighting against. His chest rises and falls quickly beneath my cheek—a testament to the battle he wages within himself. His intrinsic need to protect me battling against his desire to give me this thing I need so badly.

"I promise you," he murmurs into my hair, his voice a rough rasp. "I"ll find a way to make it safe for you to say goodbye to them."

His words stir something within me—a glimmer of hope. This beautiful Fae is willing to fight his very nature for me.

I bury my face in his chest, choking on sobs even as he stitches pieces of my broken heart back together, claiming those as his own, too.

Eventually, the tears slow and my cries fade until I"m left with nothing but quickened breaths and the rhythmic beating of his heart against my ear.

His arms tighten around me, a protective cage shielding me from the outside world. He traces idle patterns on my back, each touch soothing the raw edges of my grief until I feel human again, flawed but functioning.

"Thank you," I whisper when I can speak.

"You don"t owe me thanks, little Valkyrie," he rumbles, his voice like the thunder shaking the world outside. "I"m your mate, and you"re mine. Caring for you is my joy in life." His lips press against my forehead, comforting rather than possessive, and then he pulls back with a small sigh, his brows furrowed.

I"ve become intimately familiar with that sign. Matters outside of this room require his attention.

"What"s wrong?"

"I need to go see Damrion," he admits, his voice full of reluctance. "He called us just as I came looking for you. Will you come?" He doesn"t want to leave me. Yet again, he"s torn between his biological need to protect me and his duty.

I don"t envy the Fae. Even in the quiet moments, they"re a race constantly at war, fighting their very nature for a moment of peace. Those seem to come few and far between.

"I"ll stay," I say gently, not ready to face the outside world just yet.

He nods his understanding and kisses me gently before pulling himself to his feet. I watch, fascinated, as he slips back into his warrior fa?ade, my loving, protective mate becoming the fierce, indomitable Fae once more.

"I love you," he murmurs, striding for the door.

"I love you, too," I whisper as he slips out to fulfill his obligation to the Fae and the oaths he swore millennia ago.

For a long time after he leaves, I just sit there, staring at swirls in the cement, my mind blank in a way that"s only achieved after a storm of grief.

I reach for my necklace again, a sharp lance of sorrow piercing my heart as I think of my parents—gone, ripped from this world by the Forsaken. My fingers trace the grooves of the chain. I lose myself in the cool metal and the memories that come unbidden.

Laughter echoes in my mind. Warm embraces and gentle words whispered in the dead of night. The feel of my mother"s soft hair against my cheek, my father"s strong arms around me. Their love was a constant, a shining beacon in my life.

The echoes of joy are fleeting, replaced by the chilling memory of their cold bodies, their lives cruelly snatched away by the Forsaken.

The door creaking open keeps my world from shattering again. I lift my gaze, prepared to find Reaper standing there. Instead, an unfamiliar man stands in the doorway, his form imposing. He"s human—I don"t know how I know, I just do.

"Valkyrie." His piercing gray eyes lock on me with an intensity that has me sitting straighter, unwitting prey caught under a predator"s gaze. The corners of his mouth lift into a smile but it doesn"t reach his eyes. His gaze is hard, as cold as the frozen mountain visible from virtually everywhere in Seattle—the one where Eitr stands hidden. "I didn"t mean to intrude."

My instincts awaken with a sharp jolt, screaming at me not to trust him. He"s lying. He knew I was in here alone. He shouldn"t be here, not in this meeting room and not in this safehouse.

My heart beats a frenzied tattoo against my ribs, but I steady myself against its panic-stricken rhythm as I push myself to my feet. This isn"t the first time I"ve come across a soul shrouded in darkness. But something about this one unsettles me.

"I was just leaving," I lie. "Damrion needs me."

"I"ll walk with you," he offers.

"No. I"ll walk myself."

He stands in the doorway for a long moment, blocking the way before he reluctantly steps aside, letting me pass. I do it with my head held high, refusing to shiver even though one crawls down my spine.

"Have a good day," I mutter politely, keeping my steps unhurried and even as I stride down the hall, trying not to let him know that I know he"s evil. I feel it in my bones. Whoever he is, he isn"t one of us.

His gaze burns into my back until I turn the corner. As soon as I do, I take off running, racing toward the kitchen with my heart in my throat. I need to find Reaper. He needs to know about this man.

Rissa and Abigail look up from the table as I burst into the room, startled to see me.

"Where"s Reaper?" I demand, not giving them time to speak. I"ve come to love them dearly, but I don"t have time to explain.

"With Damrion," Abigail says, her expression wan. Shadows seem to cling to her eyes, emphasizing the dark circles that have formed underneath them. "They"re preparing to go in search of another Valkyrie."

Her announcement draws me up short. "Another Valkyrie? They"ve found her?"

Abigail presses her hand to her forehead, her expression clouded. "I…I don"t know. I think so?"

"She had a vision," Rissa translates. "But she isn"t sure what it means."

"They were rescuing a Valkyrie and fighting the Forsaken in an old church." Abigail"s brows furrow. "I couldn"t see clearly. Everything felt so hopeless." She wraps her arms around herself, shivering. "I…I don"t know."

Rissa and I exchange a glance over her head as Rissa curls her arm around the Seer"s waist, offering comfort. "We"ll figure it out, Abigail. We always do."

Abigail sighs, resting her head on Rissa"s shoulder. She looks so small and vulnerable. The sight pricks at my heart. I"ve seen her in the throes of her visions. They aren"t easy on her. They torment her, especially the fact that she no longer trusts them entirely. She fears where they come from and whether the Forsaken have figured out how to manipulate them. Every time she has one, she lives in fear of what it means or if it"s a true vision. I don"t envy her.

"I"ll be right back," I promise, reaching out to squeeze her arm. "I need to see Reaper."

She nods, giving me a tiny smile. "I"m okay."

It"s a lie. Rissa and I both know it is. I don"t think she"s been okay for a long time. But Abigail is a warrior, perhaps the strongest we have.

I hurry from the kitchen in search of Reaper. I find him and his brothers in the room they"ve dubbed the War Room, gearing up to head out.

My breath catches in my throat at the sight of him strapping additional weapons to his body. He fights with his lystst?l. It"s part of him. But he"s a warrior, never unprepared.

"Solsken," he murmurs, striding forward to meet me. His concerned gaze flits across my face, looking for any sign of my earlier grief. "Are you well?"

"I…" The words are right there on the tip of my tongue—a warning that the man who cornered me in the meeting room is dangerous. But if I tell him now, he"ll react immediately. And they won"t go in search of this Valkyrie. Not yet. She"ll be left to suffer unimaginable horrors at the hands of the Forsaken…simply because a human man frightened me.

He doesn"t belong here, and I don"t trust him. But the immediate danger is out there, tormenting a Valkyrie. That"s what Reaper needs to worry about right now. I can"t—won"t—let anyone else suffer what I did.

"I"m fine, Reaper," I say, pushing myself into his arms to hug him hard. "I just wanted to tell you to be careful and come back to me."

He tips my head back, pressing his lips to mine. "It"ll take far more than a few Forsaken to keep me from getting back to you, little Valkyrie."

A sense of unease settles in my chest as he pulls away to finish preparing. The weight of what lies ahead presses down on me, the knowledge that more than just physical battles await us. The darkness of our world threatens to swallow us whole if we let it. And suddenly, I"m terrified it may swallow us no matter what we do.

The enemies aren"t just at the gates. They"re everywhere, the shadow creeping closer, threatening to smother us all. I feel it like a stain on my soul. It"s overwhelming.

But I refuse to let it win. I don"t care what it takes. I won"t let it win.