Chapter 28 - Torsten #2
Zak let witchfire dance between his fingers, lazy and bright. “Trust me, you don’t want to start something you can’t finish.”
The wiry one’s eyes snapped to the magic. Testosterone thickened the air. My wolf rumbled, ready, even as my human mind recognized we were one breath from a bloodbath that would spill Valkyrie’s future across this clearing.
Freya sliced through the threat like a blade.
“Enough with the pissing contest,” she snapped, stepping in front of Rowan’s bristling wolf. “If you want to growl at each other, you can do it while I talk to my sister.”
Valkyrie moved at the same time, stepping between Callan and Freya, hands raised in a keep-back gesture.
All three reacted instantly. Callan caught her wrist and drew her to his side, refusing to let her stand between us. The scarred one stepped in on her other flank. The wiry one slipped a half-step behind her, watching us all while never quite taking his eyes off the trees.
Together, they formed a ring around Valkyrie — not to pen her in, but to meet any threat from any direction.
“They’re defending Valkyrie,” I pushed through the bonds before Rowan decided to solve everything with his fangs. “Not trying to attack Freya.”
“Tor’s right,” Flint agreed quietly. “Look at their positioning. It’s defensive, not an attack formation.”
Gage didn’t lower his gun. But he didn’t raise it, either.
Freya’s power rose, lightning crackling along her skin. “If any of you have a problem with giving us a minute, you go through the six of them first.”
She jerked her chin toward us.
Heath’s answering grin turned sharp as broken glass. “Happy to oblige.”
Rowan bared his fangs, golden eyes promising he’d take the first throat he could reach.
Callan’s gaze flicked along our line, measuring. He did the math and didn’t like the numbers.
“Fine,” he said, though reluctance roughened the word. “But stay where I can see her.”
“Then you stay on that side of the clearing,” Gage said. “Weapons down. Hands where I can see them.”
He didn’t bark it like an alpha command. He didn’t need to. Every wolf within a mile could hear the threat coiled under his tone.
For a long moment, no one moved.
Then the scarred male snorted and stepped back, folding his arms over his broad chest. The wiry one muttered something under his breath and retreated a pace, though his eyes darted to and from each of us as if waiting to see who would break the truce first. His attention snapped back to Valkyrie every few seconds, a wolf keeping his eyes on his prey.
Callan released Valkyrie’s wrist with obvious reluctance. He didn’t go far, but gave the two women some space, taking his place a few strides away, between her and the trees.
Heath and Gage took a half-step forward, blocking any direct line to Freya and Valkyrie.
The rest of us fanned out around them. Zak’s witchfire dimmed to a simmer, his attention turning inward as he reinforced a low, invisible shield behind Freya’s back in case any of Valkyrie’s mates decided to get stupid.
For a moment, the clearing held its breath.
Then it was just the two sisters, facing each other for the first time in their adult lives.
Up close, the similarities were staggering — and the differences cut just as deep. Same bone structure. Same eyes. Same pale hair. But Freya’s power came from a balance of scars and exile, bonds and trust, while Valkyrie’s untamed strength had been forged alone.
“You came for me?” Valkyrie’s voice was hoarse, full of too much history for such a simple question. “After all this time?”
Freya swallowed hard.
“You’re my sister,” she said. “Of course I did.”
Valkyrie laughed — a harsh, disbelieving sound that didn’t fit the softness of the word. “Twenty-four years as their slave,” she said. “Twenty-four years in chains and pits and cages. Now you show up?”
The hurt under the anger made my wolf crouch inside me. No one had ever come for me, either, in those empty years when I wandered between worlds. I recognized that particular flavor of bitterness.
Freya flinched, but she didn’t look away. “I didn’t know you existed until this fall,” she said quietly. “I heard about our mother. About you. About the deal she made to save our people.”
Valkyrie’s jaw tightened. “Lilith sold me into slavery, whether she knew it or not.”
“I heard that our mother bound you to Denraider as part of a treaty,” Freya said.
Something flickered in Valkyrie’s eyes — pain, memory, rage, all too fast to separate.
“From what I pieced together,” she said, “Lilith gave me up in exchange for one of theirs, hoping they’d honor the truce and leave Winter Wind alone.”
Freya’s voice roughened. “They didn’t.”
“I only remember fragments,” Valkyrie’s gaze went distant. “I remember Lilith shoving me toward strange wolves with the wrong mark on their arms. She told me to be brave. To obey until I couldn’t. To live. She told me one day she would come for me, and everyone would be at peace.”
“She was trying to do what I’m trying to do now,” Freya said. “Unite packs. Find a different way than conquest.”
Valkyrie’s mouth twisted. “Our kind can’t command packs. She couldn’t control the Winter Wind, and look what happened. What makes you think you can change things?”
“Because I’m not trying to control the packs,” Freya said simply. “And I won’t make deals I can’t keep.”
She stepped closer, slow enough to telegraph every movement. Valkyrie didn’t back away, but her shoulders tensed, like she expected a blow.
Freya lifted both hands and cupped her sister’s face, thumbs resting just under her eyes.
Then Freya leaned forward and pressed her forehead to Valkyrie’s.
Energy jumped between them. Odinswolf answered Odinswolf. Lightning crawled along their hair, kissing skin without burning. This was what I’d waited so many years to see. Others of my kind, united at last.
“Will you come with us?” Freya asked.
“She needs her mates,” I reminded Freya. According to my vision, Valkyrie had her own path to travel.
Valkyrie pulled away, glancing back toward the three men. “I can’t,” she said. “I’ve… made a deal of my own.”
“Then find me in your dreams,” Freya whispered, low enough I wasn’t sure Callan and his men would hear. “I’ll meet you there.”
Valkyrie’s breath hitched. “Dreams are all I had for a long time,” she admitted. “Sometimes I saw a girl with my eyes and my hair, but I thought it was… just madness.”
“Not madness,” Freya said. “Me. If you ever need a place to run to in the waking world, come east. Moonblessed. New Dawn. Celestial Alloy. Ironwood. Midnight Path. Howling Echo. Find any of them and ask for Freya.” Her smile trembled. “You and your men will have a place at our fire.”
Valkyrie’s jaw clenched. Her gaze cut sideways, toward Callan and the others.
“They’re not mine,” she said.
“But they will be. Trust your instincts.”
Valkyrie swallowed. “I didn’t ask for them.”
“Neither did I,” Freya said softly. Her smile quirked despite everything. “Sometimes the stars give us what we need instead of what we thought we wanted.”
Valkyrie snorted, a sound caught somewhere between derision and reluctant amusement. “You sound like our mother.”
For a heartbeat, something almost like warmth touched Valkyrie’s expression. It faded quickly, leaving iron behind.
“I don’t know who I am now,” she said. “Outside of Denraider’s slave.”
“But now you have the freedom to figure that out,” Freya answered. “Survive. Bite them back. One day, when you’re ready, you can figure out who you are besides what Denraider made you.”
Valkyrie’s throat worked. “One conversation can’t fix what’s broken in me,” she warned.
“I know,” Freya said. The honesty of it hit harder than any empty reassurance could have. “Your healing will take time. And you’re not the only one who needs healing.”
For the first time, Valkyrie looked shaken.
Cautiously, Freya drew her into a hug.
Valkyrie stiffened, every muscle coiled to strike or flee. Then, by inches, she allowed it, bringing her arms up and wrapping them around Freya’s back. Not clinging. Not quite returning the embrace. But accepting it.
I’d dreamed of meeting other Odinswolves. I’d imagined we’d find instant peace together, a ready-made pack that required no work.
There was nothing easy about this.
Looking at Valkyrie, I gave her one last piece of Odinswolf wisdom. “When the starlight falls, follow it.”
As if annoyed I spoke to her, Callan interrupted, his cold gray eyes fixed on our pack.
“We have to go,” he said, voice tight.
When he looked at Valkyrie, the possessive intensity there was magnetic to watch. She walked back toward the three of them, the line of her shoulders hardening again. She held Callan’s stare the whole time.
The scent of confusion wafted from him, no doubt wondering why she didn’t avert her gaze to his alpha dominance.
“Odinswolves don’t submit to anyone,” I called out with a chuckle. “You better get used to it.”
“If you can’t handle it, we’ll take her back to packs who already know how to,” Heath growled.
“She’s ours,” the big scarred one growled.
“Why do you want her?” Flint asked in a too-casual tone.
The wiry one bared his teeth. “Denraider took everything from us. Our families. Our packlands. We came back to return the favor. Instead, we found her.”
Hate for Denraider burned off all three of them like heat from a forge. This wasn’t some opportunistic power grab. This was vengeance. Old, and earned.
Callan’s jaw flexed. “We thought we knew where to find Lydell,” he added. “She was there instead.”
The wiry one snorted. “Best mistake we’ve ever made.”
“Lydell is dead, and Denraider is no more,” Gage stated clearly. “Whatever vengeance you’re seeking has nothing to do with the girl.”
“Even if that’s true, we have an agreement. She’s coming with us,” Callan growled.
“You came for me,” Valkyrie said to Freya. “Even if you were too late, you came. I won’t forget that.”