Chapter 1
In Kragor Lake, love is loud, wild, and impossible to escape.
Darak
When I drive into the first curve of the mountain roads that lead me back home, I get ambushed by a goat. And a pig.
They’re just standing there in the middle of the road, staring at me, like the welcoming committee. Although from their expressions, I can’t tell whether they’re here to welcome me or to send me back to where I came from.
I slam so hard on the brakes that my seat belt tries to cut me in half.
Gravel spits out from under the truck tires as I skid to an abrupt halt.
My heart’s hammering in my chest and I’m white-knuckling the wheel.
If this truck hadn’t been built for an orc’s strength, it would have snapped in half by now.
The goat and pig are just standing in the middle of the lane, framed by pine trees and mountain sky like some kind of deranged pastoral painting.
The goat’s wiry and ginger-brown with eyes full of felony and the pig’s round, pink and wearing a yellow bandana.
They’re planted squarely in front of my bumper like a pudgy, pork-based bouncer and his skinny, feral friend who’s trigger-happy.
The goat narrows his eyes with their weird rectangular pupils at me while the pig gives me a slow, steady—slightly threatening—blink.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
This is not how I pictured coming back home for the first time.
I was too busy imagining mountain air filling my lungs with the lake glittering in the sunlight.
There might have been some dramatic music swelling in my head as I roll into town, bigger and stronger and much less of a disappointment than before.
I’d visited the construction site for the clan housing that I’m working on plenty of times, but that’s a much easier trip. I don’t need to enter town for that. I take a quick off-shoot side road that my truck handles like a dream. This time, I’m taking the long way in.
Cue the triumphant return of Darak Stonefist, reformed fuckup, certified security specialist and project manager.
And here I am, getting stared down by two barnyard criminals. The worst part is that I know these two criminals.
The goat takes a step forward and smashes his horns against my bumper. Not hard. Just enough to get his level of attitude across to me.
Yeah. Message received, asshole.
“All right,” I mutter through the windshield. “I get it. You own the road.”
He chews his cud, unimpressed with me and my truck. The pig snorts once, then lowers himself onto the asphalt with a heavy, deliberate thump before stretching out like he’s sunbathing. I drop my head back against the headrest and close my eyes, praying for patience.
Of course. Of fucking course.
After an absurd number of ridiculous photos and chaotic stories my brother has sent over the years about these two, you’d think I’d have been more prepared. Karash has spammed the family thread with pictures of them more than anything else.
Havoc headbutted the woodpile lol
Rhubarb stole a priest’s hat :)
Do you think they understand taxes?
But knowing them from messages and the memes of them that Karash had made—terribly—was one thing. I’d been in the city for six years, and while they were cute, they had zero impact on my life—and truck. Now—being personally held hostage by them—was a completely different scenario.
I crack my eyes open so that I can glare at the goat, since he seems to be the ringleader of the two. He stares right back at me, like he’s measuring the validity of my soul.
Great. Now I’m being spiritually evaluated by livestock.
“Havoc?” I sigh, sticking my head out of the open window, knowing his name, but needing to be extra sure that I have the right goat.
He tosses his head, as if to say obviously. Which makes the pig—
“Rhubarb.”
He offers no comment, just rolls slightly so more of his belly is exposed to the weak autumn sun.
Living his best life. Having zero accountability to anyone and everyone except himself and maybe the goat beside him. I respect it.
From behind me, a truck horn blares, followed by a deep orcish bellow. The sound of an engine idling impatiently somewhere around the bend behind me makes itself known.
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble.
I could nudge them with the truck. Very gently. It should be enough to get them to move....
But then my brothers would have their revenge.
All of my older brothers always magickally knew when I was doing something wrong and always found out.
I wasn’t sure how, but they would know if I messed with these two animals who’d somehow made their way into becoming part of the clan while I was away.
Zavrosh would melt my engine block, Makhel would write me a ticket, and Karash would eulogize them like fallen heroes while I slept with one eye open for the rest of my life.
That would be a hard pass on shoving them with the truck, then. I put the truck in park and climb out instead.
Cold mountain air hits me full in the face. It smells like pine sap and dirt and distant wood smoke, like every morning from my childhood. Under it, there’s a faint scent, but it’s as clear as a punch to the face. The mineral-cool note of the lake. My chest tightens, my heart aching with longing.
Nope. Not doing that. Not yet.
I shove that feeling down and focus on the two idiots in front of my bumper. Up close, Havoc is all narrow face and sharp intelligence.
Rhubarb is… round. Steam is rolling off him as he lays in the sunlight telling me he was either freshly bathed—by Karash—or been hosed down for doing something he shouldn’t have been doing.
Something tells me that it’s the latter.
There’s a slightly crooked yellow bandana tied around his thick neck.
He looks like he’s never regretted a single decision in his life.
Must be nice.
“Hey,” I say patiently, because I’ve been talking to idiot clients at my boss’ security firm for the last six years, and they tend to never understand a single thing about their own well-being.
I might as well add animals who have about the same level of intelligence—most likely more—to the list. “The road’s not for naps, bud. You need to move.”
Rhubarb half closes his eyes in response.
That’s a no.
Havoc leans forward and delicately takes the corner of my flannel in his mouth.
“Absolutely not,” I growl, tugging my shirt free. “This is my last decent one. I am not spending my first day back covered in goat drool.”
He stares up at me, unblinkingly in an eerie way.
I have chewed better males than you, his eyes say.
From behind me, the horn blares again.
“Move ‘em or marry ‘em, Stonefist!” a voice yells.
My teeth clack as I grit them.
Yep. I’m definitely home.
I crouch beside Rhubarb. “All right, big guy. You and I are going to have a conversation about personal space and traffic laws.”
He answers by releasing a small, contented oink and going even more boneless.
Why do I feel like I’m negotiating with a toddler who outweighs me in stubbornness?
I slide my arms under him and heave. He’s solid. I’ve carried heavier, but he’s no feather pillow, either. Muscles bunch in my arms and shoulders as I lift. Rhubarb makes a surprised little grunt, then goes limp in my hold, head lolling against my chest like I’m his long-lost couch.
“Yeah, sure,” I mutter, taking a few steps toward the shoulder, where I could leave them without worry nagging at my conscience. “Just let the orc do all the work. That’s fine. Totally not a metaphor for my entire life.”
Havoc trots beside us, supervising.
Thanks for nothing, middle management.
I set the pig down on the gravel shoulder and he blinks at me once before toddling over to start eating a dandelion, utterly unconcerned that he was almost roadkill.
Havoc hops onto the guardrail and surveys the road with the air of a general reviewing his troops.
His gaze flicks to my truck and sharpens.
“You even think about jumping on that hood,” I warn him, “and I swear by every permit I’ve ever filed, I’ll… I don’t know. File a complaint.”
Great threat, Darak. Really scary.
Havoc chews cud and looks away, bored.
Yeah. That’s what I thought.
The truck behind me rumbles past now that the road is clear. An older, familiar orc leans out the window and waves. “Welcome back, Stonefist! Animals got you already, huh?”
“Could’ve warned me!” I shout back.
He just laughs, as if it’s completely normal for traffic to be stopped by livestock. I climb back into my truck, my heart hammering harder than feels reasonable after lifting a pig.
It’s not the pig. It’s everything else.
I knew coming back would be hard. I prepared myself for it—or at least I thought I did. Months of planning and training myself to be less of an asshole. The years away had made me harder than I used to be. Sterner and less of a rambunctious little asshole.
But the thought of returning home brought back the side of myself that I’d thought I’d let go a long time ago.
Joy had radiated out of my chest the first time Dristan—the chief of the clan who’d taken me in while I lived in the city—had announced that he wanted to move the clan somewhere safer.
Somewhere where their younglings could run around freely without having to worry about being snatched off the street.
My mouth had opened before I’d been able to think too hard about it.
“Kragor Lake,” I’d told him. “That’s where I grew up. And there’s some small towns nearby as well. You’ll be near other orc clans and you can get let your younglings run wild there.”
The gleam in his eyes when he’d visited the first time had told me everything I’d needed to know. He loved it too. And when his mate had seen it, she’d been overjoyed, hugging the male around his waist and squealing with excitement. Even if Dristan hadn’t liked it, that would have sealed the deal.
I’d immediately volunteered to be the project manager on the project. My brother’s construction company would be the local labour—since it was the only one nearby that had the kind of resources we’d need for a project of this calibre. And with that, I knew that we could get it done.
And that I’d be going home.
I had no intention of returning to the city after the project. Dristan had agreed, suggesting that we could add a house into the plans for me. But I wasn’t going to build with them. No. Coming home meant that I’d be returning to my original clan. The clan who’d raised me.
The one I left behind.
So I’d prepared. Instead of dealing with the emotional side, I threw myself into the practical. Arranging contracts, lining up certifications, and ensuring that everything would be smooth sailing—or as smooth as a project of this size could be, anyway.
Logical steps, numbers and schedules. Those are things that I can control. Not whatever the hell is twisting in my stomach right now—about a certain structural engineer...
Feelings are for people who don’t have spreadsheets.
That mantra kept me going while I was off working in Grebath. Hopefully it’s going to work for me here as well.
I start the engine and roll forward. In the rearview mirror, Havoc and Rhubarb watch me go. Just two odd shapes at the bend of the road, backlit by morning sun. It feels weirdly like the guardians of the town allowed me to pass—this time.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say under my breath. “I know. Took me long enough.”
The road curves again and the valley opens up so that I can see Kragor Lake. It’s nestled between the mountains, like someone carved out a piece of sky and poured it into the earth.
The water’s silver-blue in the morning, ringed with pines and rocky slopes. The town hugs one shore, buildings climbing partway up the hillside—stone and wood and newer structures that weren’t there when I left.
My eyes go automatically to the eastern slope. I see frames, steel and scaffolding. It’s a site that I’m intimately familiar with. The one that I’ll be working on for the foreseeable future.
The clan housing project sits like a half-finished promise, skeletal beams reaching toward the sun. Cranes are already set up and leaning over it. Bright vests flicker with efficient movement from the ground and my pulse kicks up for a different reason now.
That’s my job. My responsibility. Proof I’m not just the extra Stonefist with no discipline or direction.
I follow the road down into town, past the ‘Welcome to Kragor Lake’ sign. The letters carved by my brother Tarim years ago and now the edges were worn smooth.
That sign used to mean home and safety. A net underneath whatever stupid thing we were about to do. But now it feels like a threshold I’m not entirely sure I’m allowed to cross.
It’s another sign that things have changed without me. I wasn’t the only one. A lot was different now, and I was going to have to learn every single thing all over again.
“Welcome back, Darak. Please present your emotional baggage for inspection.”
I clench the wheel tighter and keep driving.