Page 77 of On Broken Bonds

“What?”

“One, when I go berserk, I don’t think clearly.”

Thorian answers quickly. “I knew that. Don’t worry, I have ways of keeping your focus on me.”

Fenric shifts awkwardly. “I can't just decide to go berserk.”

Silence.

“What do you mean you can't… turn it on and off?” I ask.

Fenric looks absolutely miserable. “Nah, I’m more like a woman in bed. I need someone to put in a little effort.”

“What?” I ask, confused.

Thorian coughs, but the sound strangely sounds like a laugh.

Then Fenric points at Thorian. “I’m going to need your help.”

“Alright?” Thorian asks, an edge of suspicion in his voice.

Fenric takes a deep breath. “I need you to punch me in the face.”

Huh?

21

Fenric

Nyx says, “What?” but Thorian understands exactly what I’m asking for.

The demi-god nods once. No hesitation. No questions. Just acceptance.

That should probably worry me.

Instead, I find myself staring back at the swamp.

The black water waits beyond the platforms, perfectly still now that Cedric is gone. The sight of it makes my stomach tighten. Not just because I’m afraid of the swamp and dying painfully in it. But because I’m afraid of myself.

Most people hear the word berserker and think of strength. They imagine warriors who can’t be killed, men who tear through armies and walk away untouched. They never think about what it costs. They never think about the moments afterward, when you’re standing in a field of bodies and trying to remember what happened. Trying to remember if you were the one who put them there.

I haven’t lost control often. My father was careful to teach me. But even so, there are gaps. Moments I can’t account for. Broken memories. Blood on my hands that I don’t remember spilling. Every berserker learns to fear the beast eventually. To fear the loss of control.

The thought of willingly letting it loose again makes my pulse pound.

My family flashes through my mind. My mother. My sister and my brother. The tiny farm. The slavers.

The chains.

Every day they remain where they are is another day I’ve failed them. The thought settles deep in my bones. I don’t have the luxury of fear.

Not anymore.

Thorian turns and says something quietly to Nyx. She looks between us with obvious suspicion before finally sighing. When he kneels, encouraging her onto his back, a sharp twist lances through my chest. Jealousy.

I hate it immediately.

Nyx climbs onto him carefully, her arms wrapping around his waist while he steadies her legs. The sight shouldn’t bother me. It’s practical. Logical. The smartest solution we have.