Chapter 4
Kael
I hadn't expected to see her until morning.
The plan had been to stay put. Be a good little prisoner.
Keep my mouth shut like Sarah had ordered me to—twice—and let her work her legal magic while I rotted in that cell for however many days it took.
Hell, I'd been content to lie there on that pitiful excuse for a cot with my feet hanging off the end, staring at the ceiling and counting water stains, if it meant keeping Argon out of this mess.
My brother had a mate now, a daughter. A life. So yeah, I could handle a few days of boredom and terrible food. I could even handle Dawson's smug face and his pathetic attempts at intimidation.
What I couldn't handle was getting murdered.
That little detail changed things.
I'd figured I'd skip out of jail and head into the mountains, maybe sneak by the village and grab some supplies first. Lay low for a few days until Sarah could work out whatever legal angle she had brewing in that sharp mind of hers.
The mountains were my territory anyway—I could disappear up there for weeks if I needed to, and no human cop would ever find me.
Simple plan.
But there Sarah was, stepping out from behind that oak tree like some kind of avenging angel, her phone clutched in one hand and her eyes wide with shock.
The scent of vanilla and steel hit me first—always did with her—followed by the sharp tang of adrenaline. She'd been scared. For me?
That did something weird to my chest that I didn't want to examine too closely.
"Did Dawson let you go?" she demanded, her voice tight and professional despite the absurdity of the situation. Always the lawyer, even at midnight in the woods behind a jail.
I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face. "No."
"How did you get out?"
I held up my wrists, showing her the broken cuffs still dangling from them like cheap bracelets. "The metal in this place is puny. Took me about thirty seconds once I decided to actually try."
She blinked at the remnants of the cuffs. "Thirty seconds?"
"Give or take."
"And the cell?"
"What about it?"
"Kael." Her voice had that warning edge I was starting to recognize. "The bars. Did you break through the bars?"
"Didn't have to." I flexed my fingers, working out the stiffness. "Human construction standards aren't really designed with Orcs in mind. The locking mechanism was almost non-existent."
Her mouth opened. Closed. "You're telling me you've been sitting in a cell you could have walked out of at any time?"
"Pretty much."
"At any time," she repeated, her voice climbing.
"Well, not any time. I had to wait until—"
"You could have escaped whenever you wanted?"
"Seemed rude to break out when I was trying to prove I wasn't a violent criminal." I shrugged. "Kind of undermines the whole 'law-abiding citizen' defense you were building."
"Oh my God." She pressed her fingers to her temples. "You've been—this entire time—"
"Taking the fall for Argon, remember?" I watched her process that, saw the moment understanding clicked. "Didn't seem smart to break out."
"But you broke out tonight."
"Yeah, well." I glanced back at the jail. "I overheard some things that changed my priorities."
"What things?" The question came out sharp, urgent. "Did you kill anyone?"
"No." I met her eyes, let her see the truth. "But there's a couple of deputies that are going to wake up tomorrow with headaches."
Some of the tension left her shoulders. "Was Dawson there?"
"No. He was waiting on the deputies somewhere else."
"Shit." Sarah ran a hand through her dark hair. "Shit, shit, shit."
"Eloquent."
"Shut up." But I saw her mind already racing ahead, calculating angles and contingencies. "Get in my car. Now."
"Bossy."
"Now, Kael."
I didn't argue. I followed her toward the edge of the parking lot, trying not to notice the way her scent got stronger the closer I got. Or the way her hands were shaking slightly as she gripped her phone.
That's when I realized she was carrying her heels in one hand, walking barefoot across the asphalt. Her feet were small, pale against the dark pavement, toenails painted a deep red that caught the dim light from the parking lot lamps.
Cute.
The car was parked in the shadows at the edge of the lot near the trees.
It was a Jeep—not as big as the ones the clans owned, but a decent size.
At least my head didn't hit the roof of the vehicle when I climbed in.
Small mercies. I had to adjust the passenger seat back as far as it would go, my knees still pressed uncomfortably close to the dashboard, but it was better than being folded into some compact sedan.
Sarah drove like someone being chased by demons, her hands tight on the wheel, her jaw clenched.
"Did anyone see you leave?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the road.
"No. I made sure of it."
"Why did you leave?" She glanced at me.
"Better than staying and letting Dawson murder me." I shook my head. "I overheard him talking to a couple of deputies. They were planning to take me into the mountains tonight. Make it look like I tried to escape and things went bad."
"You overheard." Her knuckles went white on the steering wheel. "How much did you hear?"
"Enough." I tapped one pointed ear. "Orc ears are good for more than just looking pretty."
Despite everything, her mouth twitched. Almost a smile.
"Someone named Atkins came to see Dawson earlier," I continued. "They were locked in his office, but I could hear them arguing."
"Atkins is the medical examiner."
"I figured. They were arguing about preliminary medical findings. Dawson wanted him to fix the report."
"And?" She shot me a look. "Did he agree?"
"Atkins refused."
Sarah was quiet for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was tight with anger. "If Dawson is pissed that Atkins is refusing to change his findings, that means the autopsy must show Stephen died accidentally."
"That's what I figured."
"And Dawson knows that would clear you completely."
"Can't have an innocent Orc walking free when you've built your whole career on hating us." I watched her process that. "That's why they planned to take me out of the jail tonight and kill me."
Her head whipped toward me. "You actually heard them say they were going to kill you?"
"Orc ears," I reminded her. "We've got good hearing. And smell. And a few other senses that come in handy when humans are plotting murder."
"How long?" she asked. "Did Atkins say how long until the report comes out?"
"Five days."
She nodded slowly, and I could practically see the gears turning behind her eyes. Five days. That was our timeline. Five days until the truth came out and Dawson's whole house of cards collapsed.
If we could survive that long.
The weight of that "we" settled over me like a stone. Sarah had just made herself a target. The moment Dawson realized she'd helped me escape, she'd become an accomplice in his eyes—or worse, a loose end that needed tying up.
I glanced at her hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white in the dashboard light. She was trying to look calm, professional, like this was just another case. But I scented the adrenaline coming off her in waves, and the slight acceleration in her heartbeat.
She was terrified. And she'd done it anyway.
For me.
My chest tightened. In my world, loyalty like this was rare outside of clan bonds. Humans talked about justice, but when it came down to it, most chose self-preservation. Sarah was different.
And that made her vulnerable.
Whatever it took, however far I had to go, Sarah would survive this.
The fierceness of that thought caught me off guard. I'd felt protective before—of my clan, of my territory, of my brother. But this was different. This was a bone-deep certainty that I would burn the world down before I let Dawson or anyone else hurt her.
The realization unsettled me. I barely knew her. A few meetings at the village, her help with my arrest, and now one desperate escape in the middle of the night. That shouldn't be enough to instill this kind of protectiveness.
But it was.
It wasn't like I even liked her, not in any conventional sense. Sarah was everything I typically avoided in females—bossy, aggressive, always needing to be in control. She barked orders like a chieftain and had opinions on everything.
Everything.
It should have irritated me. Hell, it did irritate me half the time.
And yet here I was, ready to tear apart anyone who threatened her.
Maybe it was the way she'd looked at me in that cell—not with fear or disgust, but with determination. Maybe it was how she'd risked everything without being asked. Or maybe it was something more primal, something my gut recognized even if my mind couldn't explain it.
Whatever the reason, the truth remained: Sarah was under my protection now, whether she knew it or not.
"Are we going back to the village?" I asked.
"No." Her answer was immediate and firm. "Dawson will come hunting you. If he catches you there, it'll make life rougher for everyone. The whole community could be at risk."
She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, thinking.
"We need to hide somewhere until I can get my hands on Atkins's report. Once that's public, Dawson can't touch you."
"The mountains," I suggested. "We could camp out, stay off the grid until—"
"I'm not much of a camper," she said with a smirk.
"Not much of a camper?" I raised an eyebrow. "You just staked out a jail in the middle of the night."
"That's different."
"How?"
"That was surveillance. Camping involves... bugs. And sleeping on the ground."
Despite everything, I felt a grin tugging at my mouth. "Afraid of a few bugs, counselor?"
"I'm not afraid. I just prefer indoor plumbing."
"Noted." I studied her profile in the dim glow of the dashboard.
"I have another idea."
"Which is?"
"You'll see."
"Mysterious."
"Practical," she corrected.
I let that sit for a moment, then asked the question that had been nagging at me. "What were you doing out there anyway? Hiding behind a tree in the middle of the night isn't exactly standard lawyer behavior."
Sarah's jaw tightened. For a moment I thought she wouldn't answer, but then she sighed.
"My cousin Marcus called me. He's a deputy at the station."
"And?"
"He overheard a couple of the deputies talking in the break room."
"What did he hear?"
"Not as much as your Orc ears apparently." There was something bitter in her tone. "But enough to scare him. They were talking about going to the hardware store. Needing chains and a shovel before midnight."
I felt something warm unfurl in my chest. Dangerous territory, that warmth. "So you drove out there alone to do what, exactly?"
"I was going to record it." Her voice was defensive. "Get evidence."
"You were going to record my murder."
"I was going to prevent your murder." Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, and she cleared her throat. "I couldn't just—I wasn't going to let them—"
She stopped, her hands gripping the wheel so tight I thought she might break it.
"You came to save me," I said softly.
"I came to document a crime." But her voice lacked conviction. "There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"Yes."
"What difference?"
"Documentation is—it's evidence. It's legal strategy. It's—"
"It's you risking your life for mine."
She didn't answer that.
Neither could I.