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I feel the surge in the water behind me. I allow my mind to go blank, feeling only me, the board, and the wave as it hits me. The force of it slams me forward, pumping adrenaline through my system as I catch the break and spring to my feet.
The cold autumn air whips at my wet skin. But the pain is good. It grounds me, keeps me tethered to something real. The wave roars under me, slamming me back toward shore as I angle the board and make the force of nature beneath memineas I ride it to its inevitable end.
When I reach the beach, I pull myself and the surfboard onto the sand, collapsing on my back and letting the waves lap at my feet. My chest heaves as I stare up at the sky. The stars are hidden behind a layer of clouds, the moon barely visible. The world itself feels heavy, oppressive, like it’s closing in on me.
But even here in the dark, amid the solitude of the ocean, I can’t escape her.
Freya. Fucking. Lindqvist.
Logic would tell me to walk the fuck away from this. To let the ghosts of the past lie, and to acknowledge that Freya was still a child when her family destroyed mine.
That said?
I don’t give a fuck.
I don’t care if she’s a fucking canonized saint, or curing cancer.
She’s aLindqvist.
I sit up, the sand clinging to my skin as I stare out at the endless stretch of water. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore is soothing, but it doesn’t quiet the storm inside me.
The thing is, it’s not just violent vengeance I crave when I look at her.
There are…other urgesthat come bubbling to the surface that I’ve swallowed back over the years alongside my rage.
Desires I keep bottled up, because I don’t trust myself to set them free.
Ican’t. That’s not who I am anymore. I’m a weapon. A tool. Here to do a job, and nothing more.
But Freya...
I can’t help but wonder if the venomous, black thoughts that come swirling through my head at the very thought of her are because of who sheis, or because of what Iwant.
Do I want to break her because she’s a Lindqvist, and I’ve spent my entire life haunted by what her family did to mine? Or is it something else—something darker and more twisted?
I stand, brushing the sand from my skin as I grab my board. The cold wind whips against my face, but I barely feel it. I can only focus on the gnawing feeling in my gut that everything is spiraling out of control and I’m too far gone to stop it.
My phone is buzzing on the front seat of my truck when I get back to it. I lean the board against the tailgate before glancing at the screen.
Hana.
I almost ignore it, but something makes me answer.
“What?” I mutter.
There’s a brief pause on the other end, and I can hear the faint sound of jazz in the background. She’s at her usual spot.
“I figured you’d be out there,” she says, her voice soft and teasing.
“Out where?” I grunt.
“I canhearthe waves, dummy. Plus I know surfing at night is your go-to when you’re brooding.”
I snort as I glance back at the ocean. “I’m not brooding.”
“Sure,” Hana replies, her tone dry.
There’s another pause, and her tone shifts.
