Ben

As if someone had decided to punish me for allowing myself too much at the dinner, I woke up from a perfect dream. It lingered in my head and my room as I opened my eyes. Everything was calm and serene. Everything was fine. Everything felt good. Except for that annoying strand of hair that kept falling into my face, this time, it was as if it carried the strength of a butterfly's wings from the other side of the world as the gush of scent coming from it completely overwhelmed me. It couldn't be more than a couple of molecules, but I had the strangest feeling of catching a whiff of cardamom.

I sat up. Something was... not wrong, but right. And yet wrong. Had someone been in my room? I sniffed the air. Did I imagine it, or was there a mix of strawberries with the cardamom? And dew. And beachy forests.

I should have been alarmed at the thought of fresh scents in my room in the middle of the night, but the scene was so calming and relaxing that it lulled me back to sleep. I slipped back onto the pillow, closed my eyes, and returned to a land of silver clothes and blue eyes.

The next time I woke up, I couldn't deduce if I had dreamt of waking up during the night, but the hoodie told me it was no dream. The scent that radiated off it was no longer a lone tune of cardamom but mixed with other things I was sure had not been there before. Either I missed the whole scent thing yesterday, or someone was in my room during the night. Someone with an intoxicating scent nonetheless. Could it be so? I deduced that it couldn't, that the scents had been there yesterday evening, but I had just not noticed it in my state of agony at how I left Hild after our walk.

I felt good, though. Stronger.

Somewhere out there, someone was giving me power by just being around. I couldn't understand why this person had not made herself known, but whatever her reasons, she had helped me already. I felt strength flowing through me. I had to find the source. I had to deserve the source. I had to let go of.. other things. I had to.

I had to.

Hild

It was as if everyone already knew. When I said I would fight instead of B, who was still out, virtually no one moved a muscle except for Vidar, who grinned, turned back to his quarters, and fetched a suit that he threw to me—his design.

It thus meant that I was now standing in the middle of the pack, getting the war paint from Gammal in a suit that was a mix of a short skirt and a leather bikini with arm-wrist protection. It allowed for more agile movements than the suit B had, but if I wanted extra cash afterwards, I could easily fit in at any strip joint. However, I decided that I looked fabulous in it, and after all, this was the most kick-ass body of them all, so why not? As long as nothing fell out, I wore more than the guys.

I mind-linked Trevor to ask if he could watch B while we were off at the pitch. I felt bad for him; I knew he would want to watch Vile, but we really didn't know anyone else that we trusted. Of course, he, being the nice boy that he was, accepted and loomed in just as we left for the arena.

As we stood in the locker room, Vidar entered and immediately approached me, trying to agitate me. I caught the scent of what he was doing and smiled at him.

"You don't have to make me angry, Vidar. I hate enough."

He grinned and shrugged. I raised my finger to him.

"Just make sure to get me home afterwards."

He nodded.

Since it was Sunday, I had made the guys promise to take me back to town afterwards instead of letting me sleep in the camp. It would save me some time tomorrow when it was a workday, and I had promised to come into the office. I had alerted my boss that it wouldn't be early in the morning but figured I could probably be there until noon, assuming my blackout followed the same schedule as B's.

Freja empowered me so much that I wasn't even scared when I walked out on the sandy pitch. I glanced towards the box. I had promised myself that I neither did deserve to and neither should grant anyone as much as a look, but I betrayed myself as soon as I stepped into the arena and the box came into view. I could see his cold, indifferent demeanor, so at odds with what I had experienced as his usual behavior, it would have been funny if it didn't feel so directed towards me.

Twenty-four warriors, tall as houses, stood opposite us, but I only had to take one look up towards the audience and spot Alpha Neil Sutton there to get white flashes dancing in front of my eyes. I heard the start signal, saw the warriors run towards us, and felt my feet run against them. I knew Vidar would be there, shielding me, but I kept digging into my worst memories, fueling my rage to oblivion.

The warrior's faces turned into everyone who had ever hurt me. My body worked hard at hurting them, forcing the memories out there, punching them to pieces one by one. I couldn't hit hard enough for my taste or to knock anyone out, but I could gash with my nails and fingers. And I did. A jump upwards, a slash over the eyes, making them bleed and blurring their vision. After punching the memories out, I bled them out. Laverne became a bloody mess, and I rejoiced in it.

I had blood all over me, but it cleansed me as much as it drenched me. I tasted it in my mouth, unaware whether it was mine or someone else's. It didn't matter. My body was now my own again. I was not the victim here; I was the perpetrator. I covered the entire span between them, meaning I could be anything I wanted to. I felt proud. It was weird, of course, to feel proud of gashing men in a sandy pit, but I proved something to myself. I felt invincible. And suddenly very, very tired.

I staggered back. The fight was over, and I could see Vidar's shoulders relax. For a few fleeting seconds, I thought I wouldn't black out. But I had given it my all, and there was nothing left. It happened instantly, but it was welcome—the blackness.

Ben

I almost strutted towards the arena with Zac in tow. His mood was not the best, and after a few "mhms" and "uhums" I stopped.

"What's with the long face? It's a great day; the sun shines, and we will have good fights and beers afterwards."

He sighed.

"Oh, it's nothing. Or, well, Hild will fight today, and I am not sure she is ready for it."

Was that a raincloud on the horizon?

"She is what now?" I furrowed my brows. "It is too dangerous. Why would they even come up with such an idea? If your niece is still out, they should just give a walk-over and fight another day. They can still make it to the top."

"It was her idea. She decided last night."

"Last night? But she was at the dinner with us last night."

"Afterwards."

Huh, but it didn't matter. My inside was revolted at the idea of her fighting.

We entered the arena, and I caught sight of the Vikings as they went down to the locker rooms. I mind-linked the tall one, Vidar, and told him to stop. I excused myself to Zac and ran up to Vidar, waiting at the entrance under the arena.

He looked at me warily. Not expecting to interact with me at this hour, or at all for that matter.

"If she is hurt.." I pointed at him.

He raised an eyebrow and then narrowed his eyes, giving me a gauging look. Then he nodded and grinned.

"Got it."

I nodded and moved on up to the box.

Zac had already invited Jack and Alpha Neil Sutton with his entourage up there, and Jack, as it seemed per protocol, was leaning towards the bar, downing whiskey. It was just after breakfast, but I gulped one down, too. Then I took a seat close to where I could look down at the walkway where the fighters would enter.

When they did, I had to brace myself. The reaction from Fang was surprisingly strong, considering the state of affairs with the secret person in my room. But when Hild walked out, he wanted to shift and jump down there, whisk her up and leave the country. And that was before I saw what she was wearing. When the image of her suit caught Fang's attention, I lost control over him for a few seconds. My eyes went black before I could reign him in and calm him down. A leather bikini going skirt thing was apparently exactly what he was looking for. Afraid that anyone had caught wind of this slightly uncontrolled behaviour, I took measures to look cool, collected, and completely neutral.

She didn't even spare me a glance. Not that I expected her to; we were, after all, only distant acquaintances, and even if it at dinner became less distant acquaintances, I still did leave her quite abruptly after walking her back to their camp. So, I didn't expect it, but some part of me and all parts of Fang wanted her to. But she didn't; instead, the fight started, and I looked away. I couldn't watch the first clash.

After pretending to look down the pitch for a while, I heard Neil Sutton scoff next to me, and I finally turned my attention to the fight. It was an unexpectedly bloody affair, and I deduced that the bloodiness had moved Sutton from his usual calm demeanour to his current agitated state. There was always blood, but three of the warriors bled heavily from their foreheads. Even Hild could no longer be identified by her braided hair or short stature but rather because she was covered in blood from top to bottom. Vidar would have a hefty price to pay if it was hers. Her movements were not jerked or pained, though, so he seemed to do his job correctly, at least so far.

Scent or no scent, Fang was enthralled by her. I was uneasy watching her get punched, but I didn't feel the impact of the delivered hits. This was another thing that didn't add up with the mate thing, as fated mates often could sense if the other one experienced extreme pain. But I felt nothing. The punches looked hard, and I could see her body jerking from them, but she acted like she felt nothing, just like me.

Let her go, you idiot. She is not yours to have.

As the fight died down, I forgot all my good intentions of doing just that. To Alpha Neil Sutton's surprise and displeasure, the Vikings smashed his team. Not literally, of course, but the jerky movements and the strained walks told the audience that the Vikings had delivered again.

For a few fleeting seconds, I expected Hild to come out of it unscathed, but she, just like the girl yesterday, fell back, caught by the quickly moving Vidar. He cradled her unconscious body in his arms, and I felt a pang of jealousy, anxiousness, and relief. The fight was over; she was clearly alive, well, clearly being in the optimistic sense of the word.

Zac exhaled a sigh of relief and indicated that he was going down to the locker room. I had every and no intention of following him, bidding my excuse to Alpha Sutton and my congratulations to Jack before following his son down into the locker room.

I let them finish their celebrations before I entered the room, or rather before I took two steps closer. I stopped hesitantly at the door opening, not wanting to intrude on their moment of victory.

I saw Vidar nod at me, still holding her in his arms. I had to suffice with that small proof of life, so I backed out of the room and up into the box again. Soon, it was time for the next fight.