Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Anna
Iwake to an empty cabin.
Keric’s already gone, the third morning in a row. The couch where he sleeps is neatly made, blankets folded with military precision, pillow placed just so. No indent left behind to prove he was ever there.
Dinah meows from somewhere near my feet, demanding breakfast.
“I know, I know, little baby.” I push back the covers and pad into the kitchen, the wood floor cold under my bare feet.
The cabin is quiet without Keric Irontree’s large forms. Too quiet.
I’ve gotten used to the sound of his breathing, the creak of the floorboards when he moves, the low rumble of his voice when he talks to the cat like she understands every word.
There’s a note on the counter, written in his surprisingly neat handwriting: Back by noon. Lock up.
I trace my finger over the words. Three years on the run and I never had anyone leave me notes. Never had anyone to come back to.
Dinah winds between my ankles, her meow turning plaintive.
“Okay, okay. Breakfast first, existential crisis later.”
I go through my new morning routine: feed the cat, make coffee, check my phone. The fancy new phone Keric bought me, already programmed with emergency contacts for the whole commune. I’d protested when he handed it to me that first day in the commune. He’d just shrugged and said I needed one.
While the coffee brews, I return to the bedroom and practice finding the panic button with my eyes closed. My hand goes to it automatically now. Good.
I check my go-bag next, confirming the Glock is loaded, accessible. Safety on, but ready.
Then I move to the bedroom closet and crouch down to check on Dinah’s safe room.
The hard-sided carrier sits in the back corner, exactly where Keric and I set it up yesterday.
Inside is a soft blanket, small water dish that clips to the door, a few treats scattered on the fleece.
If anything happens, Dinah goes in here first. The closet is interior, no windows, it’s the safest spot in the cabin.
I practice the motion in my head. I’ll scoop a startled Dinah inside the carrier and close door. I’ve timed myself. Four seconds.
Dinah, who has finished with her breakfast, wanders over to investigate. She sniffs the carrier, bats at the blanket, then curls up inside and starts purring.
“At least one of us isn’t worried,” I mutter.
I return to the kitchen to pour my coffee, then I settle onto the couch, tucking my feet underneath me. The cabin feels different without Keric in it. Emptier. Colder, even though the fire is still warm.
Three years of running taught me to stay ready. But this is different. I’m not running anymore. I’m waiting.
Somehow, that’s worse.
My phone buzzes with a group text.
How are you holding up over there? Drew questions.
I smile despite myself. Ellie and Drew have been checking in constantly since the security lockdown started.
I think the two of them have become long distance friends, which makes me happy.
I grown to really care for Drew these last two weeks and I love the idea of the two people I like the most, liking each other too.
Still here, I respond. Keric’s at another security meeting.
Whelan’s barely slept. All the hunters have come in and they’re helping with the security. They’re all on edge.
Garlen’s been texting Keric nonstop, Ellie adds. He wants to fly out there. I keep telling him to stay put but you know how he is.
I do know. I remember the way Garlen went feral at Black Oak, the raw power of him charging across the parking lot.
Ellie walked toward him instead of away and calmed him with nothing but her voice and her touch.
I’m still in awe. Sometimes I wonder if I’d show the same type of courage if I were in the same situation.
I bite at my lip, wanting to tell them what’s been bothering me lately. I type and delete several responses. Finally, I send, I’m so sorry I brought this danger to your homes and families. I never meant for this to happen.
Drew’s response comes immediately. You didn’t bring anything. Those assholes did. And our husbands live for this. Trust me. Whelan said the entire commune hasn’t been this focused since their battle with a rival orc tribe. I heard that happened like ten years ago?
Dane keeps saying he wishes he was there, Ellie answers. I think he’s jealous he’s missing the action.
I laugh, but it catches in my throat. These women are making light of the situation for my benefit. But the orcs, and all the women and orc children in this entire commune are in danger because I’m here.
I send another message before I can overthink it. This is going to sound silly, but if anything happens to me or Keric, there’s a cat carrier in the bedroom closet. Dinah will be inside. Please make sure someone checks on her.
Not silly at all, Drew replies. I’ll tell Whelan. That kitten is family now.
Garlen already asked about her. He said Keric sends him pictures. Apparently, your orc is officially a cat dad.
I send back three different pictures of Dinah sleeping on Keric’s green, muscular chest.
They reply with laughing and heart emojis.
By early afternoon I’m going stir crazy.
I set up at the kitchen table with the fancy new laptop that Keric bought me, sleek and fast and way nicer than anything I’d ever bought for myself. I’d protested, that it was much more than I needed. “Yours was old,” he’d shrugged, like that explained everything.
The new phone he gave me is also the best of the best, already programmed with emergency contacts for the whole commune.
I run my thumb along the phone’s edge, thinking about what Ellie told me during one of our calls.
She’d said that orcs don’t really understand money the way humans do.
Long ago, they lived in caves for centuries, mining gold, accumulating wealth they never needed to spend.
After the great earthquake they moved to the communes and brought their riches with them.
She said they all have trunks of gold and jewels, just sitting there.
I shake my head. Amazing.
“Money is no object to them,” Ellie had said, laughing. “Garlen bought me a wedding ring that probably cost more than my car, and he didn’t even blink. They just... have it. And they’re generous with it, especially with their brides.”
I think about scraping by on a teacher’s salary.
I’d made more money when I got the job at the university, but being on the run these last few years greatly depleted my savings account to the point where I was living paycheck to paycheck, worried about paying rent and utilities.
And now I’m sitting in a cabin with top-of-the-line electronics, a fully stocked kitchen, security systems that probably cost more than my annual salary, and an orc who looks at me like I’m the one doing him a favor by being here.
Life is so strange sometimes.
I open my lesson plans and try to focus on work to take my mind away from the problems at hand.
College-level Victorian literature curriculum for my long-term sub back at Black Oak.
This is a good mind game to get lost in.
Elizabeth Gaskell’s North and South, the industrial revolution, class dynamics and forbidden attraction.
I’ve taught this unit a dozen times. I could do it in my sleep.
But I keep looking out the window at the increased patrols. Orcs I recognize pass by at regular intervals, their expressions serious, their movements purposeful. Urdan walks past and catches my eye through the glass. He nods once, a silent acknowledgment, then continues on.
I think about Jonas Webb.
He was going to testify. He had evidence too—different from mine, but damning in its own way. And now he’s dead because of it. Because someone decided his life was worth less than their secrets.
What if someone here gets hurt?
What if Keric—
I can’t finish the thought because it’s too terrible to fully…
Dinah chooses this moment to jump onto the keyboard, typing a line of gibberish into my lesson plan: jjjjjjjjjjkkkkkkkk;;;;;;;
I laugh, startled out of my spiral. “Really? That’s your contribution to Victorian literature?”
She meows and butts her head against my chin.
I scoop my baby kitty up and bury my face in her soft fur, letting the rumble of her purr calm my racing heart. Dinah’s grown some in the last week. Her paws are bigger and so is her white belly. This is how she was able to jump onto a chair and then on the table.
“Thank you,” I whisper against her fur. “Thank you for being here with me and keeping me sane.”
She purrs in response.
Just after five o’clock Keric opens the front door and fills the frame with two black horns and a powerful physique.
He looks exhausted. Dark circles under his eyes, tension carved into the set of his shoulders, his jaw tight. But the moment he sees me, something in his expression softens. “You’re still here.” Not surprised, just... relieved, like part of him expects to come home to an empty cabin every time.
“Still here,” I confirm. I hand him a cup of coffee—black, no sugar, the way he likes it.
He takes it, his fingers brushing mine. “Thank you.”
I point at the fridge. “I can heat something up for us to eat. Your mom brought dinner. Enough for six people.”
That gets a ghost of a smile. “She’s convinced you don’t eat enough.”
I roll my eyes. “Which is the most bizarre thing ever. I’ve been battling this weight since I was a teenager. My mom put me on my first diet when I was thirteen years old. No one has, ever, ever suggested that I don’t eat enough.”
He looks me up and down, lingering on my ass. “You’re perfect exactly the way you are.”
The words come out matter-of-fact, like he’s stating an obvious truth rather than making my heart stutter in my chest.
“Um…dinner?”
He nods in agreement. “Let me change and shower first.”