Page 67 of Viking

I hate this.

I hate not knowing.

The phone vibrates again, and I snatch it up, praying it’s Logan. It’s not. It’s Ivy.

“Did you see the news?” she asks, skipping any kind of greeting. Her voice is tight, serious.

“Yeah,” I whisper, my throat dry. “Do you think it’s Logan’s base?”

“I don’t know,” she says cautiously. “But I figured if you'd seen the article, you’d be freaking out. Are you okay?”

“No,” I admit, my voice breaking. I grip the edge of the counter, trying to stay upright. “I haven’t heard from him since Thursday morning. A couple of days is normal but what if—”

“Don’t,” Ivy says firmly. “Don’t go there. Logan’s not going down without a fight. He’ll get through this.”

“But what if that’s not enough?” I snap, the fear spilling over.

She doesn’t respond right away, and the silence feels unbearable.

“Do you have any way to contact him?” she asks eventually.

“No,” I mutter. “It’s not like he can just call me whenever he wants. I’m lucky I get to talk to him when I do. Reception is spotty.”

Ivy’s voice softens. “Okay, then you wait. I know it sucks, but you wait. He’ll call as soon as he can, and until then, you have to trust him.” She takes a breath. “And besides, this may not even be his base.”

She doesn’t believe the words she’s saying. That much is evident.

I bite back a sob, hating how powerless I feel. I thank her quickly and hang up, but her words do little to calm me.

The military is deployed all over the world. It could very easily be a different base. But was another base on high alert for an imminent attack, too? It’s possible, maybe even likely.

But my gut tells me no.

The hours drag by, each one feeling like a lifetime.

The sun dips lower, painting the sky with streaks of orange and pink, but I still haven’t heard anything. Every sound makes me jump, and I can’t stop checking my phone, refreshing the news, hoping for any kind of update.

When it finally buzzes, I nearly drop it in my rush to answer. The number is unfamiliar, but I don’t care.

“Hello?” I say breathlessly.

“Lila, it’s Nick.” His voice is tense, and my stomach sinks instantly.

“Nick? What’s going on? Is Logan okay?”

There’s a pause, long enough to make my heart pound in my ears.

If something happens to me, someone from my squadron will be in touch with you.

Likely Townsend.

“He’s alive,” Nick says finally. His tone is heavy, too heavy, and I grip the edge of the counter to stay upright.

“But…” I can’t even finish the question.

“There was an attack on the base,” Nick says, his voice low and controlled, like he’s trying to keep it together. “We were hit hard. Six people…didn’t make it.” He pauses again, and I can hear him swallow on the other end. “Carter was one of them.”

I sink into the nearest chair, my legs giving out beneath me. “Ryan?” My voice cracks on his name.