Page 37 of Viking

With Reaper.

I swallow hard, tightening my grip on the stick, adjusting my position.

“Rejoining.”

Townsend acknowledges it, moving on.

“Viking…” Ryan hesitates for half a second, like he wants to push, but he lets it go.

I exhale slowly, staring ahead into the vast, endless dark. Tonight, I got lucky. But next time, I might not.

Shake it off and fly the jet.

Hampton, Virginia

May 26, 2024

6:39 p.m.

Lila

It’s late Sunday afternoon and the house smells like taco seasoning and freshly chopped cilantro. I’ve laid out a spread on the butcher block counters—seasoned chicken, rice, black beans, guacamole, fresh salsa, shredded lettuce, and cheese. A pitcher of skinny margaritas glistens with condensation next to three amber-colored glasses, ready for my two best friends.

Ivy and Alinna should be here any minute, and I’m buzzing with excited energy. It’s been months since we’ve seen each other.

Alinna is a teacher for an international organization overseas, and while she lives in Virginia she spends many months at a time abroad. She’s currently working with refugees on the Syrian border.

Ivy just moved to Virginia with her three-year-old daughter, Hadley. She’s done the whole military spouse thing for the last five years, staying home with Hadley and working part time as a ballet teacher. Her husband abruptly filed for divorce about six months ago. She picked up the pieces and moved the two of them to Virginia after buying a barre studio with the money her dad left her.

Tonight will be the first time the three of us will have all been together since Alinna’s twenty-eighth birthday in February.

I have a lot to tell them but a phone call didn’t seem like enough. Not when we’ve had this night planned for the last month.

The knock on the door comes as I’m slicing lime wedges, the knife slipping just slightly from my grip at the sound.

I peek my head around the wall to see Alinna strutting in, a full face of flawless makeup and glossy, dark hair that looks straight out of a shampoo commercial. She’s wearing a flowy blue maxi dress, her skin bronzed from spending time outside. She wastes no time kicking off her sandals beside my entryway bench.

I feel underdressed in mom jeans and a black cropped tank, my long hair falling out of the bun on top of my head. I push my glasses up my makeup-free face and finish slicing the limes.

“Skinny margaritas and taco bowls? Are you trying to win wife of the year?” Alinna says, kissing my cheek.

“Wife? She doesn’t even have a boyfriend,” Ivy teases, coming in behind her. Ivy’s outfit is more casual—a soft pink ballet wrap sweater and leggings, like she came straight from her studio. Her blonde hair is twisted into a low bun, and there’s a certain weariness in her face that wasn’t there before her divorce. But her smile is warm as ever. “You’re a lifesaver, Lila. I need this more than I need air right now.”

I laugh, shaking my head as I pour our margaritas. “Where’s Hadley?”

“Mom’s got her,” she answers, hugging me.

Alinna turns, drink in hand, and points at me. “We need to hear all about your new job, but first, you said you have news?”

Ivy arches a perfect eyebrow as she grabs the chips and dips, taking them to the coffee table. I follow behind, our drinks in my hands. “Don’t tell us you ran off to Vegas and got married?”

I choke, coughing up tequila and making my throat burn.

Alinna narrows her bright blue eyes, studying me as she sets the pitcher down beside the chips.

I set the drinks down and raise my hands in surrender. “I didn’t, I swear.”

“Well, then what?”