Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
The vision shifted, and I saw Takken and Horakovsky behind bars. Not metaphorical bars—actual prison cells, their faces haggard and defeated. The charges scrolled past my consciousness: corruption, human trafficking, conspiracy, attempted murder. The evidence was overwhelming, much of it gathered from Berkut Station’s servers during the raid.
Mila and Katya… the Sons of Odin and the Pretorian Guard had set them up in charge of what remained of Horakovsky’s criminal empire, as allies.
Finally, the vision showed me myself. I stood in the prime minister’s residence, but everything was different. The oppressive atmosphere was gone, replaced by something lighter, purposeful. I wore a tailored suit, and through the windows I could see the gardens where I would soon address the nation—not as Takken’s wife, but as prime minister in my own right.
The vision crystallized with absolute clarity. I saw myself taking the oath of office, Aksel standing just behind me, his hand resting protectively on my shoulder. The Parliament erupted in applause, and I felt the weight of leadership settling onto me like a mantle—heavy, yes, but right. This was what I was meant to become.
My orgasm crested again as the final images flooded through me, wave after wave of pleasure mixing with the certainty of what I’d seen. The silver branches held me suspended for one perfect moment before releasing me, and I crashed back into my body with a gasp.
The saddle’s ridge was still pressed against my tender røvhul, my mouth still full of my Herra’s softening tól. I pulled back slowly, swallowing the last of his seed, my entire body trembling with aftershocks. My legs had gone boneless, barely able to support my weight.
“Easy, little vǫlva,” Aksel murmured, his strong hands gripping my waist to steady me. He lifted me carefully off the bride saddle, and I whimpered at the loss of pressure against my bottom. “I have you.”
He carried me to the bed as if I weighed nothing, settling me against the pillows before stretching out beside me. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close to his chest, and I burrowed into his warmth with a contented sigh.
“You went very far this time,” he said quietly, stroking my hair. “I could see it in your eyes—you were somewhere else entirely.”
“I saw everything,” I whispered, still trying to process the flood of images. My voice shook with emotion. “Herra, I saw Project Athena. This massive installation in the Canadian Arctic—it’s beautiful. Like something from a dream. And Mary O’Toole, she’s there with Sven and someone named Marmareus. She’s a vǫlva too, isn’t she? I could feel it.”
His hand stilled in my hair for a moment. “Yes. Mary is very gifted. She serves both the Sons of Odin and the Pretorian Guard.”
“I saw Takken and Horakovsky in prison,” I continued, the words tumbling out faster now. “Real prison cells, not just house arrest. They looked broken, Herra. Defeated. And Mila and Katya—they’re free now, running things for us.”
“All of that will come to pass,” Aksel confirmed, his voice warm with approval. “The evidence we gathered from Berkut Station was more than enough to ensure their convictions. The wheels are already in motion.”
I lifted my head to look at him, my heart suddenly hammering. “And I saw myself, Herra. I saw myself as prime minister.”
His eyes locked onto mine, and I saw something shift in his expression—not surprise, but confirmation. “Tell me,” he commanded softly.
“I was taking the oath of office,” I said, the memory of the vision still vivid in my mind. “You were standing behind me, your hand on my shoulder. The Parliament was applauding. It felt… real. More real than anything I’ve ever seen before in the world tree.”
Aksel’s hand cupped my face, his thumb brushing away tears I hadn’t realized were falling. “It is real, little vǫlva. That future exists, and we’re going to make it happen.”
“But how?” I whispered. “Takken is still technically prime minister, even if he’s been arrested. The party—”
“The Sons of Odin and the Pretorian Guard have been working together,” he interrupted, his voice taking on the measured, analytical tone I’d come to recognize. “Marmareus, Sven, and Mary have come up with a plan. They’ve been coordinating with key members of your party, building support, preparing the groundwork.”
I felt my breath catch. “A plan? For me?”
“For Jagland,” he corrected gently. “But yes, for you. You’re exactly what this nation needs—someone who understands power, who has seen the darkness and emerged stronger, who has the gift of sight to guide us through what’s coming.” His fingers traced along my jaw. “I had meant to wait until you’d fully recovered to tell you about it. The plan is complex, and it will require everything you have to give.”
“I want to start now,” I said immediately, surprising myself with the fierceness in my voice. “Herra, I’m ready. I need to be ready. After everything—after what I endured—I can’t just lie here recovering while the future waits.”