25. TWENTY FIVE
TWENTY FIVE
brEE
I didn’t know what day it was. I didn’t know if I would stay here like this forever, or if he would come back. He hadn’t spent the night. I was alone, bruised, and waiting for him within the cold walls of this house. I needed him. I needed him to come back and tell me that everything would be okay. I needed to hear his voice promising that no matter how hard it got, we would be okay.
But no matter how hard I tried to imagine a brighter outcome, the reality always dragged me deeper. It always seemed worse, no matter which ending I dared to hope for.
And it was breaking me.
Piece by piece, I was falling apart.
I sat at the bottom of the staircase, wrapped in his white shirt. It hung loose on me, oversized, but it had his scent, and that was enough to make me feel like he was still near. On my lap, I gathered the ripped parts of my clothes, picking them up piece by piece from the stairs. My fingers trembled as I fought back tears.
Not again. Please, not again.
My gaze drifted to the door. The axe was still lodged in it. I had always managed to imagine some kind of ending, to escape, but this time, my mind was blank. Should I just leave? Should I find my way to somewhere, anywhere, or should I wait?
If I waited too long, would I miss a chance to feel alive again? Even if I was broken, with the shadow of despair pressing against my brain, I still hoped for something more. I wanted to grow old, and gray. I wanted to tell someone that I had lived, that I had survived whatever this life had thrown at me.
And yet, here I was. Watching. Choosing him. Even when he walked away because cooling down was easier for him than facing me.
Then I heard the sound of a car pulling up in front of the house. My heart leaped before I could think. I sprang to my feet, the pieces of fabric slipping from my lap and scattering onto the floor. The sound was drowning out every single thought from before as I ran to the front door and opened it, throwing it wide.
I saw him.
He was in the car, staring at me through the windshield. His hands rested on the steering wheel, his eyes hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to get out. But I needed him to. I needed him to come to me, to wrap me in his arms, to make everything else disappear.
I needed him.
Without thinking, I rushed down the steps of the house, the door left swinging ajar behind me. The icy snow stung my bare feet, but I didn’t stop. My heart thundered in my chest as I ran toward the car, toward him .
The door opened, and he stepped out. As he closed the distance between us, I didn’t wait. I jumped into his arms, wrapping myself around him, my hands clasped tightly around his neck, my legs locking at his hips. I held on as if letting go would break me completely.
His hands pressed against my back, locking me as he carried me toward the house. Neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to.
Everything we couldn’t say was in that one embrace.
I needed him more than air, I needed him more than water, and he was the food that fueled my soul. Even though it hurt so damn much, I still wanted him. I wanted him more than life, I wanted him more than love, and he was the need that fueled my heart. Even when I broke apart, just seconds away from him, I knew I belonged—here, with him. In hell or heaven, I didn’t care, as long as I was by his side.
The door clicked shut behind us. He lowered me to the floor, his face hovering above mine, his breath warm against my skin.
“I’m sorry I left,” he finally murmured. “I never should have.”
I silenced him with a kiss, my lips meeting his before he could say more. I stood on my tiptoes to reach him, my fingers tracing the back of his neck, grounding us together.
He pulled me closer, lifting me, his arms tightening as if he couldn’t bear to let go. He stole my breath away, again.
“I know,” I whispered against his lips. “It’s okay.”
His forehead pressed against mine, his skin brushing softly, his eyes searching mine. “I had a rough night,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “All I want is to lie down with you and forget the rest of the world.”
He set me gently on the floor, his hand still in mine as I tugged him toward the stairs. “Then let’s forget the world,” I said softly.
But he stopped.
His hand tightened around mine, and I turned around to face him.
“Lena died last night,” he said. “And Laura is still missing.” He swallowed hard. “If they look into it… if they find the farm and what’s on it… this could all be the end.”
His words hit me, leaving me frozen on the steps. My heart pounded, not just at the thought of what had happened, but at what might come next. Lena was gone. And Laura... the thought of her, out there somewhere, sent a chill through me colder than the snow outside.
Fear clawed at me, threatening to spill out, but I couldn’t show it. I couldn’t tell him that the thought of her return terrified me, thought of her chaos. She was my mom, but she was never real. Deep down, I was afraid. Afraid of what she would do if they found her alive. Afraid of what it would mean for us .
I didn’t know Lena well, but I knew she cared about him. Even in her cold, distant way, she was still his mother. And in their own twisted, complicated way, they loved each other. My heart broke for him.
There were no tears in his eyes, the icy blue that usually sparkled had deepened, and darkened. They looked more like mine now, ocean blue, muted as if all the light in them had drowned. As if we both lost that spark for life, with nothing left to light it again.
Our eyes locked, two waves crashing into each other, drowning together, searching for something, anything, to cling to.
“I’m sorry about Lena,” I said softly. “I never thought… I didn’t expect her to leave so soon.”
“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice distant. “Me neither.”
He stepped closer, brushing his lips against my forehead. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said quietly. “If you want to eat, the fridge is full.”
“Oh.” The word fell out of me before I could stop it. I wasn’t expecting that. I didn’t want food, I wanted him. I wanted him to stay, to let me hold him, to let me help with the pain he was carrying. But I didn’t push.
“Have a nice shower,” I said instead.
He walked past me, his footsteps slow and disappeared up the stairs toward the bedroom.
I stayed where I was, standing in the hallway, staring at the space he just left. When I heard the soft click of the bedroom door closing, I felt pain swell in my chest.
I forced myself to move, turning back to the mess scattered around the room. The ripped clothes, the antlers, and one by one, I took them in my arms, and with my hands full, I walked into the kitchen.
I opened the trash bin and began to toss everything away. Each piece felt heavier than it should have, like I was discarding parts of myself.
I wanted him.
It had been thirty minutes. The longest thirty minutes of my life. Even though we were in the same house, it felt like we were worlds apart. I hadn’t seen him, but I noticed the axe was gone from the door, and the guns that hung on the walls, were gone, too. From upstairs, I heard the metallic clicks of a chest being locked.
He was putting everything away.
He was afraid. Afraid of hurting me again.
Tears blurred my eyes as I stood there. He didn’t understand. He thought the pain he caused would break me, but it didn’t. It wasn’t the pain that threatened to ruin me, it was the distance, that I was away from him.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang, startling me. I turned toward the sound, my breath catching as two blurred shadows moved behind the blurred glass pane beside the door.
I hesitated, then walked over and opened it.
Standing on the porch were two people. The woman was in her mid-thirties, with sharp whiskey-brown eyes and her dark hair tied in a ponytail. She wore a gray suit with a light blue shirt beneath it. Around her neck hung a badge, but not a detective one, but something else, something official. Her eyes cut through me, scanning me.
Beside her was a man. Isak.
“Hi, Bree,” he said. “I see you’re well.”
I nodded, caught off guard, but before I could say a word, the woman spoke.
“May we come in?” Her voice was professional. “We’re colleagues of Thor Karlsson. This is his house, isn’t it?”
I nodded again, stepping aside. “Yes,” I said softly.
As they entered, I closed the door behind them. My mind raced, wondering what this was about, but before I could call for Thor, he appeared.
He stood at the top of the staircase, dressed in a black shirt and matching trousers. His hair was swept back, though a few strands fell loosely onto his forehead. His blue eyes were icy again.
“Frida. Isak. What a surprise.”
He walked down the stairs, casually rolling up his sleeves.
“Yes,” Frida said, her eyes shifting between me and him. “I could say the same thing.”
I moved to the staircase as Thor reached the bottom. He stood beside me, his hand brushing lightly against my back.
“Why are you here?” Thor asked. “I called Johansson. Told him I was taking some vacation days.”
Frida’s lips twitched, almost amused. “We’re not here about that.”
Thor’s jaw tightened slightly. “Then why?”
"We're here for Bree," Isak said.
I instinctively stepped back, my body behind Thor's.
Frida chuckled, "Oh, we’re not here to take you," she said. "We just came to pass on a message. Your mother," she paused, "your real mother, Victoria Muller, wants to know when you'll come back."
"Come back?" I asked, stepping out from behind Thor, my arms stiff at my sides. "I don’t want to go back."
"No one’s forcing you," she said, smiling. "But you’ll have to contact her eventually. You need to claim your legal name."
I turned to Thor, my eyes silently pleading. Make them go away . I didn’t want to leave. Not him. Not this life. I wasn’t her daughter; I was Bree. I’d always been just Bree.
"Okay then," she said lightly, "why don’t you make us some tea? We’ll have a little chat with Detective Karlsson while we wait."
The false sweetness in her voice boiled against me, but I nodded, my feet dragging me to the kitchen. I had no intention of making tea, I slipped around the corner, pressing myself against the wall to listen instead.
"We found Laura’s body. She drowned in the river, but there were… irregularities. Bruises, cuts, signs she might have been tortured before she ran."
Thor stiffened, his arms folding across his chest. Isak reached into his pocket and handed over something small and metallic.
"We found this in her coat," he said.
Thor’s brows furrowed as he held the badge up to the light. "My badge?"
"Yes," she said. Her arms mirrored Thor’s, crossing. "We were wondering how it got there, especially since you never reported it missing."
Panic surged through me, I couldn’t let them accuse Thor, not for this, and before I could think twice, I stepped back into the room.
"It was me," I blurted, my voice shaking but loud enough to stop the conversation. "I gave it to her."
Thor turned as I pressed on, moving closer. "The water is boiling," I added quickly, pointing toward the kitchen, buying myself a moment. "Thor left the badge there when they came to ask about the missing woman. Mel and I both saw it."
Frida blinked, caught off guard. "Oh," she said, recovering. She turned back to Thor. "Well, you still should have reported it."
"I am on holiday. I planned to report it as soon as I return." His tone hardened. "But tell me, why is Isak here?"
"My shoe size is a 39," Isak interrupted, his voice flat, deflecting the question.
Thor chuckled, "You know what they say about small feet…"
I bit back a laugh, brushing my fingers across my lips. "So," I said, shifting the tension. "Still want that tea?"
"No," Isak snapped, glaring. "We’re good."
Frida cleared her throat, regaining composure. "We’ll be in touch," she said, already heading toward the door, but soon her eyes moved to the jagged cut near the frame. "What happened here?"
"Star Wars duel," I said, unable to stop the grin spreading across my face. "It turns me on." A blush crept up my cheeks, betraying me.
Thor’s lips twitched, barely suppressing a laugh as he looked at me.
Frida raised an eyebrow. "Huh," she muttered. "Well, have a nice day."
As soon as the door clicked shut, Thor turned to me. His hand slid to the back of my neck, and he drew me to him. His lips claimed mine, the kiss deepening, his tongue exploring my mouth in hunger. Before I could catch my breath, he lifted me, pulling me against him as he carried me to the kitchen. The faint crunch of tires on gravel faded as the car drove away, leaving us in silence inside.
He set me down on the kitchen counter, the fridge humming softly beside us. His lips hovered over mine as he whispered, "You didn’t have to cover for me."
"I know," I murmured, a sly smile tugging at my lips. "But I wanted them gone, so I could have you all to myself."
"Hmmm," he growled softly. "I love the thought of that."
His hand found its way back to my neck, pulling me closer as he kissed me again, slower this time, savoring every second of it.
Then he pulled away, the heat of his eyes never leaving mine as he turned to the fridge. Opening the lower drawer, he let the cold air out from the freezer and pulled out a plastic container. He placed it beside me on the counter, slowly, almost teasing.
"You know," he began, "when I first met you, I would wake up in the mornings and find these popsicles in the fridge."
I tilted my head "Ice cream?" I asked, grinning.
"Nah," he said, shaking his head as he took out one of the popsicles.
It was small, milky white, no more than four inches. His grin stretched from ear to ear as he held it up. "Guess again."
I slapped a hand over my mouth as I realized. "You’re not telling me you... oh my God, Thor! That’s messed up!"
He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I think I was saving it for… situations like this," he said. His hands found my knees, parting them gently, his touch sending shivers down my spine.
I swallowed hard, fully aware of where that popsicle was made of his cum and ice. I curved my spine, widened the gap between my thighs, and leaned against the cool tiles of the kitchen wall. He held the popsicle so near now that I could sense the frosty chill from the ice grazing my skin, and then he pressed it against my clit, making a shiver course through me.
"Fuck," it came out of me.
"Have you ever got burned by snow?" he asked, his eyes locked onto me, "I did, it's cold."
He gently pushed it in, I could feel the ice melting inside me, my inner muscles clenching around it. As he drove it further into me, I surrendered, allowing it to dissolve. My eyes fluttered open, my hands finding their way to his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin.
His fingers wrapped around the stick once more and he thrust it deeper as it continued melting within me. The dissolved ice dripped under me, making its way under my ass cheeks. His hand shifted again, taking the plastic stick that was left from the popsicle of his cum. All the ice was inside me, melting without the stick, I felt like my brain was freezing along with the ice inside me.
He threw the stick next to me, and drew me closer, unzipping his trousers.
"Can you feel the burn?" he asked.
I was speechless, I had no words, I just nodded.
I could feel the ice dissolving within me, leaving only his cold cum. My neck arched to the back, a moan escaping my lips as shivers moved down my spine. He drew me nearer, his lips locking mine. And with one single thrust, he entered me. I was so tight I felt each inch of him inside, to the point that it hurt. A scream tore from my throat, my body arching as he kept thrusting inside me.
He moaned against my neck, his hands roamed beneath my shirt, finding my breasts. He tore the buttons apart, and shirt opened, leaving me naked before him. My legs wrapped around him, drawing him closer,and allowing him to move in sync with me.
My hand went down to touch myself, rubbing my clit as he continued to thrust inside me. My back arched and eyes locked onto his, my mouth fell open in a silent cry for him while biting down on my lower lip.
A smirk graced his face as he drove deeper within me. With each thrust, I could sense him deeper inside. The thought of his cock growing inside me was taking my breath away, and just as I was about to come, he joined me. His name escaped my lips in a cry, "Thor."
He came within me, his warmth mingling with the icy aftershocks still rippling through me. It was as if I had fucked with both; Snowman and Thor, ice and fire both inside me. A smile tugged at my lips as I wrapped my arms around his neck, locking eyes with him while he whispered, "How is it to be fucked by Snowman?"
I chuckled, "cold."
"Luckily you have us both."
And I did, I had all his personalities.
It wasn't funny, but I laughed.
And I know you would too—anyone would. I had a man who would kill for me, a man who would chase me with an axe, a man who would burn the world for me and melt the coldest heart for mine. He was everything I could dream of, and I got all that in one man. How lucky was I?