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Lucien flashed her a smile. “Don’t worry. We’re not always this terrifying.”

Bryn huffed despite herself. “That’s… reassuring.”

Draugr stepped up beside me a frown adorning his forehead as he looks around. Lucien clapped him on the shoulder. “You look like hell. Relax brother, you home now.”

Draugr replied flatly, “Something feels off.” He muttered as he turned slightly to look behind us. Lucien frowned, and then also looked around to see if he could see anything that was putting Draugr on edge.

Roman’s gaze flicked between Bryn and me, assessing, approving. “You made it.”

I nodded once. “Barely.” I respond as we turned toward the vehicles. That was when the night cracked, a sharp sound split the air. A shot.

Everything exploded into motion. Men surged forward instantly, forming a wall around us. Weapons drawn, shouts barked. I didn’t think, I reacted as I yanked Bryn down hard, twisting my body over hers, shielding her with my own. Her gasp cut off sharply as she slammed into my chest.

Then she jerked, not from the impact but from pain. The scent hit me a heartbeat later. Blood, her blood.

“No,” I snarled.

She made a small, broken sound. “Viking…”

My hand came away red. The bullet had torn through her. Blood soaked her sleeve, pouring too fast, too much. Her eyes went glassy as I looked down at her face, and then she went limp.

The sound that tore out of me wasn’t human. It was rage, filled with pain and terror. I roared. The world narrowed to red. I was on my feet, over her, my body a shield, my mind gone feral. Anyone who moved was a target, anyone who breathed was a threat.

In the back of my mind, I knew that the berserker was taking over. Not in theory. Not as a distant possibility whispered about in old stories and warnings, but in truth.

It settled into me with brutal clarity, threading itself through my veins like a second heartbeat. A switch I could never fully turn off again. I’d skirted the edge of it for centuries, danced along the line with discipline and control and sheer will.

But this? This crossed it. The moment I smelled her blood on my hands, the moment I felt her body go slack beneath mine, something ancient and irreversible snapped into place. A berserker wasn’t just rage. It was devotion sharpened into violence. A state where reason bowed to instinct and instinct answered only one command.

Protect my mate, destroy the threat. There was no room for mercy in it, no room for restraint once the line had been crossed. Berserkers didn’t choose their fury, they became it.

I’d mocked it once, called it weakness. Said it was what happened when a vampire let love rot his spine, but I understood now how wrong I’d been. This wasn’t weakness, this was annihilation waiting for permission.

Every sound felt too loud, every movement too close. My body stayed coiled tight even as my mind tried to surface, even as my brothers spoke to me, even as logic attempted to reassert itself. It didn’t matter because some part of me was still standing over Bryn’s fallen body on the tarmac, still roaring into the night, still daring the world to try again.

I could feel it under my skin, pacing, waiting. If she cried out, I would tear the world down to reach her. If her heart stuttered, I would burn cities until it steadied again.

If she died… I didn’t let myself finish that thought. Berserkers didn’t survive loss. They avenged it. Slowly, painfully, and without end.

I pressed my palms into my eyes, breath shuddering, forcing myself to remember where I was. This wasn’t temporary, I was changed. Marked by her blood, bound by her life, cursed with a fury that would never truly sleep again.

My mate lived, I kept chanting in my mind. As long as she did, I would endure this, but whoever had pulled that trigger… They hadn’t just shot a human woman, they had created a monster that would hunt them for the rest of their very short lives. And this time, there would be no restraint, no hesitation and no mercy.

I felt hands grab me, heard voices, but none of it mattered. “She’s alive,” someone shouted.

“She’s bleeding out, we need to get her to the mansion and calm him the fuck down.” Another voice shouted. I didn’t pay them any heed because all I saw was her. My mate. Broken.

Roman’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. “Viking. Look at me.”

I turned on him with a snarl, fangs bared, vision red and funnelled until there was nothing but threat and target. The world had reduced itself to enemies and distance between me and my mate.

Roman stood before me, his eyes glowing in the dark, and then I felt it. His power didn’t slam into me all at once. It coiled. Ancient, heavy, controlled. It wrapped around my mind like iron bands tightening one notch at a time, pressing against instinct, against fury, against the berserker state clawing its way fully to the surface. Taking over my body, over my mind.

I roared and surged forward. Hands grabbed me, looking over I saw Lucien, fast and reckless, throwing his weight into my side, trying to drag me back. I struck blindly, elbow cracking into ribs, sending him skidding across the tarmac like a rag doll. He hit the ground hard but rolled, already scrambling back up.

Draugr came next, solid and unyielding. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders from behind, locking his grip and dropping his weight low, trying to anchor me. He was a threat, a threat that I needed to neutralize to keep my mate alive.

I slammed my head back, catching him in the face. Felt bone crunch but he didn’t even grunt, just tightened his hold, stubborn as stone.