Finding You

12 years ago

“My baby.” Mother’s urgent whisper woke her up from sleep.

“Mother?” Her little voice whispered groggily before she was snatched up into her father’s arms. She squealed with joy which was silenced abruptly when her father’s hand slammed over her lips.

“Hush Angel.” Father said and ran to the master bedroom.

Freya‘s heart was suddenly pounding as he pulled on a latch and the floor opened. He started lowering her into the new hole but she grabbed onto him, holding on tight.

“No!” She gasped. “I’m not going in there.” Mother burst into tears behind him and Father’s eyes hardened.

“You have to, Pumpkin. Remember the last time we played hide and seek?” He asked her. Tears spilled over her cheeks but she nodded.

“Good girl! I want you to get in there and close your eyes. I’ll come find you.” He whispered urgently.

“I’m scared “ She whispered. She didn’t want to play hide and seek, she wanted to go back to sleep and wake up tomorrow morning like normal.

“Anytime you feel scared or alone...?” Father began.

“Close my eyes and remember that Mother and Father are always with me.” Freya completed.

“Right here.” He pressed a hand to her heart. It was the last thing her father ever said to her.

Alone in the hidden compartment, the darkness welled up and streamed down her throat. She gasped and scrambled to her knees, unable to breathe. It was too dark, too tight! She heard her father’s words again, ‘stay in here and don’t make a sound’...

She closed her eyes and tried to remember the last thing Father said but-! She wheezed, losing her train of thoughts. She couldn’t breathe!

She scrambled to her knees again, raising her fist to bang on the lid when she heard her mother’s scream and cold fingers of terror cascaded down her spine.

“Mother?” She whispered.

There was a crack on the lid and little Freya pressed her face into the space and peered out. Mother was lying on the floor of the bedroom and there was so much blood!

“Mother!” Shocked, Freya choked on her cry.

She watched as Father dropped heavily to his knees and then someone walked into the room.  A tall dark man...

Her father screamed with rage and the sound was terrible. Freya scrambled back into the dark and shut her eyes tight, counting to a hundred. Father would find her when she reached zero, he always did. Everything would be fine! She counted with all her heart and when she reached zero, the lid was yanked open.

~~~

Present day

Freya walked through The Den and as usual, eyes followed her down the hall.

“I’ll have that.” She grabbed a muffin off a tray and took a bite. The servant squeaked in outrage but she turned pale when Freya turned her piercing grey eyes on her.

“I-it was for Soldam.” The lady servant squeaked and she scoffed.

“Tell him it tasted good.” She said and strutted away.

“Good morning Shadow.” The most dangerous men and women in Ilyria called to her with smiles on their lips and contempt in their hearts. Just a regular day.

“Nothing good about the morning you dickwads.” She drawled.

“The Master’s pet.” Someone sneered from behind her.

“Fucking bitch, she thinks she owns this place.” His partner spat. Freya’s lips quirked but she didn’t bother sparing them a glance.

In long sure steps, she stopped in front of Aremin’s study and with a quick knock, she pushed in.

The Master was by the window, a strong wiry man as dangerous as a strung arrow. He turned to watch her approach and she rested a hand on her hip.

“You called?” She asked.

“See the people?” He asked her, gazing down. “So much suffering.”

Over his shoulder, she could see it. The entire city spread out in her view and it looked like a giant gobbled everything and threw it back up. She scoffed.

“Stop pretending like you give a shit and tell me why you summoned me.”

He turned back to her, looking amused. Aremin was what many would mistake for a nobleman at first glance. With that high nose and regal gait, Aremin looked like an angel but he was easily the most dangerous man she knew. One only had to look into his shrewd eyes to know this, the eyes of a man that would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

“Why don’t you buy my bullshit like the rest?” He asked and finally strode to his table.

She threw herself on the seat opposite him and stared him down.

“I don’t like the taste of ass.” She pointed out and he gazed at her with pride. The Den was just a glorified name for the tower that housed the most dangerous assassins ever seen in Ilyria.

“With that sharp tongue of yours, you’re lucky you have a soft spot in my heart.” He drawled and she laughed.

“About as soft as the edge of a sword.” She replied and his eyes flashed.

There, a hint of the real him; cunning, ruthless and a hardcore bastard. He didn’t have a soft spot for anyone, he loved her because she was his most valuable weapon.

“Who do I have to kill?” She asked and he handed her a sheet. A face was sketched into it and she pursed her lips as she studied it.

“He is Riordan Savvey, a very dangerous adversary.” Said Aremin and Freya flipped through the information on him.

“He’s a werewolf.” Freya said slowly.

“Which is why you’re the only one for this job.” He replied and she shrugged and stood.

“I’ll bring you his head.” She said flippantly but he held up a finger.

“He is not to be underestimated.” Aremin emphasised and she smirked.

“That’s the last thing I’m doing.” She said and left. No one in their sane mind would take a job on a werewolf. It was a suicide. Those bastards were too wild and too powerful not to mention, immortal. Freya’s lips quirked and her skin hummed and thrilled at the challenge.

The sheet had all the information Aremin had on him. Her target was the leader of The Watchers, the terrorist group whose name alone was enough to make the king shudder. He was a werewolf who had caused so much trouble for the king and Ilyria that nobody would be sad to see him go. She stared at his face again, memorising every line then she dropped the sheets into the fireplace.

~~~

Freya raised her hands and allowed the guards to search her for weapons. They didn’t find any of course, the incompetent fools. If she wanted someone to die, the long pretty hairpin holding her hair up could open someone’s jugular and  the twelve inch heels on her feet could carve out someone’s heart. She smiled at the guests and lost herself in the crowd until she finally found a perfect spot and took her seat.

It was a very grand wedding, she thought as she looked around. What better place to assassinate someone?

“May I join you?” A gentle man smiled at her. She stiffened when she smelled him, another werewolf. She stared at him icily.

“No.”

He tipped his glass to her and left, only to stop a few seats away, dedicating a heated stare her way. Damned werewolves, they could complicate this mission if she let them. She slid out of the seat and headed the other way but she didn’t take two steps when the room appeared to suck in their breath collectively.

The very air changed when he entered, her target. He appeared on the dais, commanding everyone’s attention and she leaned eagerly forward, remembering the details of the sketch and comparing it to this man and... who the hell drew that?

His sketch did no justice to him. He stood close to seven feet tall, his custom-tailored outfit barely concealing the wild savagery of his nature. His shrewd eyes took in the entire room and their grey depths settled on her. Impossible! She was fitting into this crowd like a glove.

His scent finally reached her nose and as she took a lungful, she stiffened. No... this couldn’t be happening.

Her wolf surged up in her chest, bursting with joy as she recognised this unique scent. Mate! Her soul recognised his as hers.