The Sacrifice: Forgotten | Loki | Book 1

Chapter 11: Privileged

(Loki's/Tom's P.O.V.)

The figure daggered me. A sharp pain arose in my mid-section and expanded until I felt as if I was slaughtered to pieces. I cried out in pain and put my hand above my stomach. I fell onto my knees, hearing a scream from behind my back. I tried to remember who was here with me. He gripped my hair. My head then hit the stone-hard wall.

"Tom!"  It was a female voice, familiar.

Gift me dark peace, show me how true night falls...

"And now it's your turn, bitch." 

My shirt was soaking with my blood, uncontrollably. My vision faded, out and in. Some things I saw, some not, some I only believed to see.

"Tom!"   The female screamed again.

Who was Tom? What was Tom? Someone loved Tom, I remembered. 

I got up quickly and lunged at the figure. We both fell down, inches away from Caroline. I pinned him down to the ground, he struggled for his dear life as I was about to choke him to death. My hands on his throat - they grew cold. I believed to see a dark blue coloration, but blamed it on the blow to my head. The dagger was still in his hand. I had not looked properly. He stabbed my weak side again, provoking another scream of mine.

I was pushed off while the attacker rose. His shadow cast over me. The kick against my body hurt, but somehow, not as I imagined it would. My vulnerable side on the other hand, where the blade was still stuck, hurt like hell.

Caroline took her courage in both hands. She took of her high heels and lunged at him. My ears perceived a slap, he had hit her across the face. She fell, of course she had no chance. The blade was still plunged in my body, so the man was weaponless at least. I promised to protect her, and I was not going to break that promise now, I thought determinedly pulling out the dagger. 

The sound of the metal sliding past my flesh could have frightened an army of Asgard.

I rose against him. He would pay, I swore that. Like everyone who lays his finger on what belonged to me. An old flame was rising in my chest, as if I had battled like that before. This feeling was anything but strange, it was frighteningly familiar. I felt capable of killing an army with my bare hands.

I attacked him from his back, it was over within seconds. There was no opposition he could offer against my inhuman strength, but what surprised all the three of us were the fighting skills I was showing. As if I was used to fight every day, like a master-assassin. Every move, every strike was graceful, strong and effective.

The ant had no chance against a boot.

Soon, he was begging for mercy, but I had other plans. I was about to snap his neck, as slowly and painfully as possible, when Caroline screamed.

"No! Tom, stop!"  I stopped immediately. I turned to see if everything was well with her, and she had covered her mouth with her hands, crying. 

"Are you injured?"  I asked her.

"Don't."  She whispered.

I did not understand what she meant, and she saw that. "Don't get your hands dirty. He isn't worth it."

A fight was arising in my head, whether to kill him right on the spot or let go. My anger was endless, my heart wanted revenge and thirsted for his death. But I was better than that. I was disgusted by the thought of being like him and did not want Caroline think me a monster.  My grip around his neck loosened, I grabbed his shirt and threw him against the wall on the other side of the street.