Chapter 19
1098 Words
Jax’s POV
The noise of the battle had died down, but the clash of metal and the whistling of Freya's silver-gold sword still echoed in my head. She lay in my arms like a broken porcelain doll: pale, lifeless, my black t-shirt covered in mud and foreign vampire blood.
I burst into the room with her and carefully laid her on the bed. Silas was already behind me with his medical bag, but his face was grimmer than ever. As he examined the girl, I saw his hand stop in mid-air.
"Jax... this isn't simple exhaustion," Silas whispered, his voice cracking. "Look at her skin."
I crouched beside the bed. Freya's veins at her neck and wrists were glowing faintly, ominously in gold, but the light wasn't healthy. It looked as if it were burning her body from the inside.
"What's happening to her?" I growled, feeling panic sink its claws into my throat once again.
"The Valkyrie magic, I think," Silas replied while searching for the girl's pulse. "It was too much for her body. Repressed, starved, and tortured for years... the suddenly unleashed power is literally scorching her veins. She doesn't have enough life force to sustain this power. If she doesn't get some replenishment, the magic will burn out her heart."
"Give her blood!" I roared.
"She can't consume human blood, Jax, you know that!" Silas shot back. "And vampire blood would only wreak more havoc in her right now. She needs something that both nourishes and can keep the magic in check. Something stronger than human life."
I looked at Freya, and my heart almost broke. I could feel through our bond how her life was slipping through my hands like tiny grains of sand. And then I realized.
"My blood."
Silas looked at me, his eyes widening.
"Jax, the blood of an Alpha werewolf... it's pure magic and raw power. We've never tried it with a vampire before. It could kill her."
"Or it could save her," I answered with ice-cold determination. "She is my mate. My blood is hers."
I didn't wait for an answer. I pulled out my dagger and, with a single decisive motion, made a deep cut on my left wrist. The thick, hot Alpha blood immediately began to well up from my wound. I sat on the bed and gently lifted Freya's head.
"Drink, little mate," I whispered in her ear. "Please, fight. Take my strength."
I pressed my wrist to her lips. The first drops still spilled from the corner of her mouth, but then, as if her instincts had sensed the life pulsing within me, Freya's body tensed. Her hands, though weakly, gripped my forearm. She began to drink.
I felt the effect immediately. The bond between us literally exploded. I wasn't just giving her my blood, but a piece of my soul as well. In my mind's eye, I saw my childhood, my rage, my pack... and I felt her passing her pain and loneliness to me, too. The golden light beneath her skin slowly calmed, faded, and was replaced by a healthy, warm vibration.
Freya sighed softly, then let go of my hand and drifted into a deep sleep once more. But this was no longer a near-death coma. Just rest.
"You saved her," whispered Silas, who had been watching the scene in silence.
"Stay with her," I stood up, while my wound was already beginning to heal. My gaze was darker than the night. "I have business in the basement."
I went down the stairs, to the place where Freya had been hanging from chains just a few days ago. Now a vampire occupied her place—the sole survivor of the tracking party, whom Kane had kept alive on my orders. He was a battered, ragged figure, but the arrogance of vampires still sat in his eyes.
When he saw me, he smirked, showing off his bloody teeth.
"The Alpha..." he spat out blood. "You're late. Our leader is dead, but the message has already been delivered. Her father won't stop."
I stepped up to him and grabbed his hair, jerking his head back.
"Speak. How many are coming?"
"More than the number of fleas in your pack," he laughed hysterically. "The clan leader doesn't just want his daughter anymore. He wants to wipe this town off the map because you dared to touch what is his. He's raising an entire army. Mercenaries, purebloods... everything that moves and kills. And the mutt... he said if he can't have her alive, he wants to see her in pieces. He considers her a defect that needs to be erased from the world order."
My rage reached such a level that the walls of the room began to crack from the energy radiating from me. I didn't answer. I merely turned around and signaled to Kane, who was standing in the doorway.
"Finish him," I said coldly, then walked out.
I went back to the room. Freya was already awake. She was sitting on the bed, wearing my t-shirt, looking at her hands, which were no longer trembling. As I walked in, our eyes met. I could feel the new power in her—my power, too.
"I heard what he said," Freya whispered. Her hearing had become more refined as well. "He's coming for me. He will kill your pack because of me."
I walked over to her and took her face between my hands.
"No, Freya," I said firmly. "We aren't waiting for them anymore. We're not going to sit here and wait for them to strike."
The girl looked at me in confusion.
"What do you want to do?"
"We are going after him," I declared. "I'm calling the pack together. Every biker, every fighter. We will go to the heart of your clan, and there, in his own castle, I will rip your father's head off for every single blow he dealt you."
Freya's eyes widened, but the fear was suddenly replaced by something else. A cold, sharp determination. She stood up from the bed, and although she still looked fragile, her posture was already that of a queen.
"Then I'm going with you," she said, and her voice brooked no argument. "I want to see him fall. I want to finish this."
I looked at my mate, the Valkyrie who carried my blood in her veins, and I knew: this war wouldn't be about us. It would be about justice.
"Then let's go," I said, and the howl of the pack outside the house signaled they were ready for revenge.
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