My Second Chance Mate is a Barbarian (Sera and Fenris) novel Chapter 477

Sera

"You know, this is a decent size place," the leader said, stepping in through the broken doorway. He surveyed the room, pacing slowly.

The wolves followed him into the room. One grey, one russet, one brindle. The grey one's head swung low, its muzzle brushing past the edge of the bed. The russet one padded silently to the hearth, sniffing at the banked fire. They reeked of charred fur and acrid smoke, their claws clicking and scoring the rough boards.

The grey one paused beside Torvald, who stood stiff and silent between the door and the trunk. Torvald's hand tightened on the shaft of his spear. The brindle wolf's amber eyes turned toward him, but the wolf didn't move.

The leader kept talking. "The pots look good. Furs are always useful. What's in the store?"

My fear surged, a vise tightening in my chest. Dread crawled over my skin, cold and slick with sweat. I felt the girl's shallow breaths, her heart pounding. She pressed herself harder into the gap, as if she could disappear into the wall.

Two other raiders entered. Bare-chested, man shapes with axes and knives. Their faces were shadowed.

The leader stopped pacing and turned. He glanced at Torvald, finally. "Now then. Who are you?"

"Torvald." Her father's voice wavered, but only slightly.

"Listen! The storehouse is behind the big tree... Summer smoked meats, winter salted fish... A sack of grain, a barrel of salt, a pile of hides... Take it all. Just go."

The girl's small chest shook against the trunk as shivers ran through her narrow frame. Her father's boots shifted. His knuckles whitened on the spear shaft.

The leader chuckled. "Say that again. Louder. So all the lads can hear."

Torvald repeated it, his voice rising. The men laughed. I saw two of them swiping their thumbs across their blades. The wolves' tails twitched.

"Everything?" the leader asked lazily. "Tools, furs, silver too?"

"Yes." Her father's voice broke on that one word. "Take it all. And go."

"Go?" The leader glanced at the men, at the wolves. "Oh, we're not going anywhere."

He examined her father, toe to head, as if he were a prize pig at the fair. I hated him. I hated his steady gaze, his unhurried movements. The way he smirked at Torvald, as if he were a child.

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