Chapter Thirty-Three

Laila couldn’t help shivering as she stood in the darkened room, even though the environmental controls kept the area at a constant temperature. She’d decided to wear a light blue dress to the presentation, bought on yet another shopping trip. The last few days had been…enlightening.

Her purse had appeared in Trace’s bathroom, filled with identification marking her as Laila Nyland—Trace ran a background check and found a quiet, boring past created for the ex-Valkyrie.

The wallet, however, did not automatically fill with money anymore.

“Freyja’s grace only goes so far,” she said to Trace.

He’d laughed and tossed it aside before throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her into the shower. “She’s given me enough.”

The ceremony was a quiet one, attended by a small crowd of dignitaries—the New York museum curators, a handful of representatives from the Norwegian Museum of Cultural History who had flown over, Emile and Montegro showing the flag for their respective agencies. They all lined up in rows, watching as Trace walked up the center aisle carrying the cane, still inside the protective plastic case.

The display panels had already been changed, the history of the walking stick updated to add the date of its retrieval—and the name of the man who had done what had seemed to be an impossible task.

Trace Dyson.

He’d asked her if she wanted her name on the plaque, and she’d shaken her head. “This was your quest for years, your search. I had little to do with it until the very end.”

Now she stood there as Trace placed the box containing the cane into the exhibit, the sealed boxes lying next to each other in a final, complete union.

A flash caught her eye—the bracelet on her sister’s wrist reflecting some of the soft fluorescent lighting in an oddity she could only put down to the deceased Valkyrie giving her approval.

Silently, she said a prayer, holding back tears as the display was closed up again, the Norwegians moving in to congratulate Trace with handshakes, and his law enforcement friends slapping him on the back. He caught her eye and gave her a mischievous wink, sending a rush of desire through her body.

Laila rose from her seat and went to the display, bypassing the small group of men and women talking among themselves.

She pressed her hand to the clear plastic barrier and smiled.

“Fly straight,” she whispered.