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“War isn’t the only type of battle to be fought,” he explains. “A person can battle with their inner demons, and there’s the battle between right and wrong. Battle encompasses so many different things, so it stands to reason that, if someone dies protecting others, they’re dying during some type of battle, right?”
I mull over his words, and my heart sinks. He’s right. Maybe I’ve taken all of my mom’s stories too literally.
“You’re mom used to say that she loved mythology so much because it was open to interpretation. Sort of like art… The beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
“She never said that to me.”
Dad chuckles. “She did. You just don’t remember.”
What else don’t I remember?
“Then why does the literature and research support what I’ve always thought to be true?”
“Bias. Interpretation. Hell, I don’t know,” he says. “Have you talked this over with Marsha? You’ve always valued her opinion and knowledge.”
“No, I haven’t.”
And honestly, I don’t know if I want to. I’m questioning everything I’ve ever known, and I worry that Marsha will only perpetuate my potentially wrong thought process because she interprets the myths and legends the same way I do.
“Well, I wouldn’t stress over it too much. I know you’ve almost got a doctorate on the subject, but there’s always more to be learned.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Anytime.”
After disconnecting the call, I make my way to my bedroom and curl up on the bed. I’m mentally exhausted, and a nap sounds amazing.
As I drift off to sleep, it’s to thoughts of Viking and everything I thought I knew.
18
Viking
“Remind me why we’re doing this again?”
Reaper dismounts his bike as I do the same. It’s been a week since Makayla left the party angry with me, and I’ve wanted to go see her, to call her, but I’ve been too busy. We agreed to work with the human chapter of VRMC, and my time has been spent doing just that.
Fortunately, this is the last drug supply run they have in the area, so I should be free to get back to the mission once we’re done here.
“To blend,” I respond absently and grab my ax out of the saddlebag.
“Pretty sure that isn’t blending,” Inferno taunts, nodding toward my weapon.
“You’ve all got your guns and knives,” I begin. “And I have this.”
“Do you plan on standing out here chit-chatting like a couple of fucking school girls, or are you gonna back us up?” Trooper demands.
I scowl at his tone. He might be running this show, but I’m still his equal as far as rank. Besides, I’m the only one who talks to my men that way.
Inferno lifts his hand as if to conjure the flames, but I push it down and shake my head.
“None of that here,” I snap. “What the fuck are you thinking?”
Inferno narrows his eyes. “I’m thinking I’m sick and tired of these shitheads and their orders.”
“Excuse me?” Trooper demands as he stalks toward my VP.
Reaper steps between the two men and places his hands on both of their chests to hold them apart. Trooper’s eyes widen with the slightest hint of fear, and Inferno smirks because he knows Reaper’s touch can’t harm him.
