25. Evelyn
Evelyn
I’ve been in this cell for five days.
I think. It could be seven at this point. It’s hard to tell.
Five days of recycled air, cold walls, and total silence.
No one talks to me. Not the guards who bring me my food. Not the med-tech who scans me for signs of pregnancy. The only sounds I hear are the hiss of doors opening and closing and the air conditioning turning on and off.
They’re trying to break me down. To make me forget who I am. To forget him .
They don’t know that every time I close my eyes, I feel him. Varkul. Somewhere in this facility, bound and possibly drugged, but still fighting. Still alive.
I don’t know how, but I think I can sense him.
That’s the only thing keeping me sane. If I think too long about my predicament, or about my sister, I want to scream into the void… but I won’t give them that pleasure.
Instead, I sit on my thin cot, back pressed against the wall, my knees drawn to my chest. I sit, wait, listen, and endure.
It’s all I can do for now.
And then the alarm goes off.
A screeching wail that instantly makes my heart jump into my throat. Red lights strobe across the ceiling.
“Facility breach. Facility breach. Facility breach.”
I spring to my feet. The door to my cell remains sealed, but I hear movement in the hallway. Boots thudding. Frantic shouting.
And then a distant explosion.
My heart leaps into my throat.
Varkul!
Gods, it has to be him.
I rush to the door of my cell, pressing my hands against the cold metal. “Come on,” I shout. “Come on — please!”
Gunfire erupts down the hall. The lights flicker. The floor shudders beneath my feet. What the hell is going on? Is a T-Rex tearing this place apart?
I glance around the room, looking for anything I can use to break down the door. A piece of my bed frame, or the steel tray from my last meal perhaps, but I have nothing that’ll do the job.
Through the small window in my cell door I see a guard, his rifle drawn.
And then — a massive green fist slams into him, sending him crumpling like a ragdoll.
I back away. The door to my cell is torn from its hinges and the figure that steps into my room is eight feet tall, has green skin streaked with ash and blood, and eyes of molten gold.
“Varkul!”
My knees nearly buckle. He came for me!
The orc is breathing hard, sweat glistening on his bare chest, blood and soot streaks across his frame, but his eyes lock onto mine and in that moment I know I am perfectly safe.
He crosses the room in a single step and pulls me into his arms. I grip him tightly, wrapping my entire body around his.
“You came!”
“I said I would.” He pulls back and touches my cheek. “Did they hurt you?”
“No,” I say. “Not physically.”
He snarls, his eyes burning. “Dr. Kelly will pay for this.”
Gunfire rattles down the hall. Varkul glances over his shoulder. “We need to move.”
The orc lifts me into his arms like I weigh nothing. “I have you now,” he says. “No one will ever take you from me again.
He carries me through the door, past the fallen guard, into smoke, fire, and chaos.
But in his arms, I don’t feel fear.
I feel free.