Page 76 of Valkyrie Confused

I missed out on the whole fight?

Damn it.But alsoyay, because I’m nowhere near trained enough to do what the gorgeous woman with the jet-black hair does with her sword, as she arches through the air to plunge it into Odin’s heart.

“Dahlia,no,” Astrid yells, and the other woman flips away mid-motion. How is this humanly possible, for fuck’s sake? Is she a gymnast?

“He’s not yours to kill,” Astrid tells her and looks pointedly at Arnlaug and me.

Arnlaug squeezes me to his side. He lets go and walks up to Odin, allowing me a great look at his wide back, amazing ass, and long, muscular legs—all of which I can appreciatenow that he’s not trying to kill me—before transforming into his bear form.

“You made me betray the man I love,” he growls, the snout messing with his enunciation. In my head, I hear him perfectly clear. “I almost killed the woman I’m falling for.”

He’s falling for me.He’s falling for me.I mean, I saw our souls, interwoven, but it’s different to hear it from him, you know?

And I need to regulate my emotions. I’m all over the place. How can I be shocked and horrified and lust-filled at the same time?

That question is answered when Pan wraps his arm around my waist.

“You are incredible.” He kisses my temple. “He’s finally free.”

I lean into him, as Arnlaug stares Odin down. “They were right—all of them,” Arnlaug says. “You’re controlling and petulant. No god I want to serve.”

Odin laughs.“And yet, you won’t kill me.”

“So say you.” His claws fully extended, Arnlaug swats at Odin’s chest.

Ortowardit, because he doesn’t make contact, and Odin’s laugh only gets louder as Arnlaug takes a few steps back. “You think you’re free,” he says, “but you’ll never be able to harm me. I made sure when I created you.” He jerks his shoulders from side to side. “You’ll always belong to me.”

“He’s freeing himself,” says Freyr. “Fenrir, can you end him?”

The wolf is Fenrir?Seriously?

I don’t have time to fangirl, because Pan says, “Scarlett, your sword.”

“A sword can’t kill Odin,” Dahlia says. What is she? She’s not human. Not a Valkyrie, either.

“This one can,” Pan says as he nudges me forward with his palm on the small of my back. “The ashes of Ophiotaurus’ entrails are forged into the blade and the stone on thepommel.”

It must mean more to the others than it does to me, because there are a couple gasps. A few wide eyes.

Without thinking, I splay my fingers, and my sword flies into my grasp. Coolest. Thing. Ever.

My body seems to know what to do, as I stride coolly to Odin, but I can’t just kill an unarmed, incapacitated man.

One of his arms comes around forward, and he throws a blast of fire at Arnlaug. “Traitor,” he screams.

Dahlia jumps in front of Arnlaug, and I cringe, expecting her to go up in flames, but nothing happens.

A blast of invisible force from Astrid throws Odin against the wall, but both his hands are free now, and he uses them to throw fireballs across the cave.

I duck and swerve, and the moment I see an opening, I raise my sword and drive the blade through him, like Arnlaug taught me.

Everything about this moment is amplified—the squelching sound of flesh being torn, the snap of cartilage and bone, the squish of his heart when my blade pierces it. And finally, thesnickof the sword driving into the stone wall.

The fire goes out in his eye. His arms flop to his sides, and his head rolls forward.

He’s dead.

Odin’s dead.

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