Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
As I break from the woods, I see the shitty building we use as a prison cell and my stomach turns. What was I doing? Mol is right, Cardan and Vlog—especially Vlog—are psychos. They do this sort of thing for fun. And I’ve been helping them.
The modified Bentley, made larger for orc use, is still warm as I vault over the hood, unwilling to take the time to go around. She needs me.
I rip the tarp from the doorway, tossing it aside, and drop the bundle of orc clothes and flowers on the ground as I head inside. And her voice nearly makes my ears bleed with rage.
“Do your fucking worst, you ugly bastard. You think I’m scared of you? You should be the one scared. I’m going to kill you. Both of you. Just wait.”
Vlog’s maniac laugh as I hustle down the corridor makes me growl. “Smile for this camera, human sweetheart. Photograph for your grandfather. He sells, or we do worse to you.”
“Fuck you!”
I come around the corner just in time to see her leg fly up between Vlog’s thighs, the shackle broken on the ground as she strikes him hard in the crotch. They have her tied to a chair by the wrists, while Naarsh stands by with a camera taking picture of her wounds.
Her fresh wounds.
They’ve beaten her. There’s a dark bruise on her cheek, her lip swollen and cut. The only salvation of the moment is she is not naked like I left her. Vlog is unclothed besides his pants and she is wearing what must be his shirt as it hangs down nearly to her ankles, the sleeves rolled up to her wrists. For a moment I’m so overcome with rage I just stall, staring, every muscle tense as I try to decide whether to rip Vlog’s head from his shoulders first or shove that camera right up his fucking ass.
He starts to chuckle.
“No balls, human sweetheart,” he laughs. “Unmated orcs don’t have them.”
But she’s not listening. Because she’s noticed me.
And the look of betrayal in her eyes finally makes me move.
“You touched her,” I growl, and Vlog turns my way. When he sees me, he starts to smile, as if I’m here to help with what he’s doing. How did I let this happen? How did I allow my mate to suffer at their hands?
I should have taken her with me. I should have made sure she was safe.
I will regret this moment for the rest of my fucking life.
“Oran. Good. Hold her while we—”
“You touched her. Now you die.”
“What?” He stops laughing, but the smile doesn’t drop. Until I start to run forward. “Oran! Don’t forget you work for—”
He puts an arm up to defend himself, but his whole clan is pathetic. That’s why Cardan needed saving back on Iriaza, I realize with sudden clarity. Not because the Moban caught him unprepared during the rebellion, but because he’s weak.
I grab the proffered arm and pull up hard, using my height advantage as I hear bones snap. He twists with a howl, trying to get away from me, but it’s the worst thing he can do, just giving me more leverage. I snap his arm around, once, twice, and tear it from its socket. Blood sprays from the open wound, raining down on Ivy as Vlog roars with pain and shock. Naarsh computes what’s going on and comes at me. He’s not the brightest specimen of orc brainpower, but he’s big. I turn, jutting my lower jaw as I swing Vlog’s severed arm like a club and slam it into the side of Naarsh’s head.
His face snaps sideways, and his body pivots on one foot like I’ve seen Raven and Emmie doing when they dance, then gravity takes hold. Naarsh plummets to earth like a stone, sprawling across the dirt and tiles, breaking a tusk and lying still.
“My fucking arm!” Vlog is howling. “My arm!”
“Take it,” I say, shoving it into his chest. He’s so shocked, he actually takes it from me, wrapping his remaining arm around the dead weight.
Vlog’s last words stutter from his lips in disbelief as he looks into my eyes. “You work for us!”
“I am Oran,” I say, and clench my fist. “I work for me. And her.”
“You didn’t see what my father left you? It is a gold bar. Human gold. There is more where that came—"
“I care not for gold.” Stepping forward, I swing my arm in an upward arc, slamming my fist underneath his chin. His lower jaw cracks against the upper and his head is forced back. Vlog lifts from the ground, staggering back toward the edge of the pit, and I raise my foot then land it heavily into his gut.
He topples over the edge and comes down hard, head cracking against the side of the pit. Momentum pulls his massive body up and over, and his neck twists and snaps as he rolls. When he finally comes to rest in the bottom of the pit, his head is set at an angle, and his eyes are glazed.