My Second Chance Mate is a Barbarian (Sera and Fenris) novel Chapter 40

Fenris

I didn't respond. I focused on the wrappings, moving with slow, methodical precision. Dimitri sighed and walked around the bag, his gaze moving across the small, cramped room.

"I still can't believe you managed to keep this place hidden from Father until he died," Dimitri said, a hint of a laugh in his voice.

I glanced at the space. I’d found this pocket of the mountain when I was twelve. No windows. One entrance hidden behind a heavy tapestry in the lower halls. I had kept it secret for twenty years. Viktor had hated anything human. He said human sports made wolves soft. Real warriors used claws and teeth, not wrapped fists and footwork.

But I had learned anyway.

I looked at the bag and thought about Ronan. The servant boy had been skinny and quick, two years older than me. He’d grown up in the South before his family came north. He knew things—fighting styles that used the whole body, not just the beast.

They’d meet here at night. Ronan would show me how to stand, how to move my weight, how to hit without shattering my own wrists. I was seven when the lessons started. I was ten when I tried to be "noble" and chose myself for punishment, only to watch Viktor slit the throat of Ronan’s younger brother in the Great Hall.

Ronan never knew.

For years after that, Ronan had called me a friend. He had laughed with me and taught me how to fight. And I had carried the secret of his dead brother like a stone in my gut.

"He knew."

I looked up. Dimitri was watching me, his expression softer.

"Ronan," Dimitri said. "He knew. I’m sure of it."

"He didn't."

"He did. And he chose to be your friend anyway. Maybe that was his way of forgiving you for something that wasn't your fault."

My throat tightened. I looked away. "You don't know that."

"I know you," Dimitri said, his voice hardening. “You’ve been carrying this for twenty years like it’s a birthright. You hold onto guilt like it’s a blade, Fenris. Even while it cuts you open, you grip it tighter. Like suffering is the only thing you deserve."

I didn't respond.

"It’s pathetic."

My head snapped up. "Watch it."

"It is. The Butcher’s Son. The deadliest warrior in the North. And you can't let yourself have one thing because you’ve decided you’re a monster."

"I am," I said.

"Says who? Our dead father?" Dimitri laughed. "He’s gone. I’m gone. The only one keeping you in these chains is you."

I stood up and threw the sweat-soaked wrappings into a corner. I started walking toward the narrow entrance. Dimitri followed.

"You know I'm right," Dimitri said.

"I know you talk too much for a dead man."

"I talk because you won't. Someone has to say what you’re thinking."

We moved into the dark, cold corridor. I knew every step by heart.

"The elders are getting restless," I said, changing the subject.

"Yvara told you?"

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