Page 9 of Scornful

He nods frantically, blood streaming from his broken nose.

I release him with a disgusted shove, watching as he stumbles toward his car, casting one last terrified glance over his shoulder before peeling out of the parking lot.

Only then do I turn to Astrid.

She's standing perfectly still, her light sage green eyes wide as she stares at me.

For a moment, I worry I've frightened her with what I’ve just done.

But then I see something else in her gaze—relief, gratitude, and something warmer that makes my pulse quicken.

"You okay?" I ask, my voice gentle.

She nods, rubbing her arm where Laken had grabbed her. "Yeah. Thank you, Geirolf. I... I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been here."

I step closer, careful to move slowly.

She's been through enough tonight without me adding to her fear.

"Let me see," I say, gesturing to her arm.

Hesitantly, she extends it toward me.

I take it carefully, examining the red marks already blooming into bruises on her pale skin.

My jaw clenches at the sight, rage coming right back to the surface.

"Should have broken more than his nose," I mutter.

To my surprise, Astrid laughs—a soft, husky sound that does strange things to my insides. "Pretty sure you've scared him enough for one night," she says. "I don't think he'll be bothering me again anytime soon."

I look down at her, really look at her, perhaps for the first time.

She's beautiful in a way I never fully appreciated before.

Her light brown hair with golden specks catches the dim light of the parking lot, framing a face that's both delicate and strong.

Those sage green eyes of hers have a fire behind them—the kind that tells you she's been through hell but came out swinging.

And her body... Curvy in all the right places, the kind of softness a man could lose himself in.

Minn.

I push the thought away immediately.

She's Fenrir's daughter, for fuck's sake.

The VP's little girl.

Even thinking about her that way could get my ass handed to me, or worse.

But as I release her arm, our fingers brush, and the jolt of electricity that passes between us tells me I'm not the only one feeling something here.

"I should get you inside," I say, my voice rougher than intended. "Get some ice on those bruises."

She nods, but doesn't move immediately. "Thank you," she says again, her voice soft. "Not just for... that. But for not asking questions. For just helping."

I understand what she means.

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