Chapter 15
Sarah
We made it exactly three miles into Franklin before the patrol car appeared in my rearview mirror.
I'd been expecting it. Had actually planned for it. But the sight of those flashing lights still sent a spike of adrenaline through my system—that primal human response to being hunted, even when you've orchestrated your own capture.
"Sarah." Kael's voice was low, dangerous. I felt the tension radiating off him in waves, his hands flexing on his thighs like he was preparing for a fight. "Don't stop the car."
"I have to," I said calmly, already pulling over to the curb in front of the hardware store. "This is part of the plan, Kael."
"What plan?" His voice rose, sharp with alarm. "Getting arrested isn't a fucking plan—"
"Yes, it is." I put the Jeep in park and turned to face him, keeping my expression neutral even as my heart hammered against my ribs. "Trust me. Please."
The patrol car pulled up behind us, lights still flashing. I could see two deputies emerging—Miller, one of Dawson's cronies, and a younger officer I didn't recognize. Both had their hands on their weapons.
Kael's entire body went rigid, every muscle coiled tight. I noticed something sharp and acrid in the air—his scent changing, I realized. Fear mixed with fury mixed with something that smelled like burning metal.
"Kael," I said quietly, urgently. "I need you to stay calm. Can you do that for me?"
His amber eyes met mine, wild and furious. "Not if they hurt you."
"They won't hurt me." I reached over and squeezed his hand once, quickly, before the deputies reached my window. "I promise. Just follow my lead."
Deputy Miller rapped on my window with his knuckles, his expression smug. I rolled it down slowly, keeping my hands visible.
"Well, well," Miller drawled, leaning down to peer into the car. "Sarah Potter and Kael Ironforge. Sheriff Dawson's been looking for you two."
"I'm sure he has," I said evenly. "We've been out of town for a few days. Personal business."
"Personal business." Miller's grin widened. "Is that what we're calling harboring a fugitive these days?"
"My client isn't a fugitive," I said, my voice cool and professional. "He was released from custody pending investigation. I have the paperwork in my briefcase if you'd like to see it."
That was a lie, but Miller didn't know that. He hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his face.
"Step out of the vehicle," the younger deputy said, his hand still on his weapon. "Both of you. Slowly."
I opened my door and climbed out, keeping my movements deliberate and non-threatening. Behind me, I heard Kael's door open, heard the creak of the Jeep's suspension as he emerged.
"Hands where we can see them," Miller ordered.
I raised my hands, palms out. The autumn air was cool against my skin, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and exhaust fumes and the faint smell of rain on the horizon. Normal autumn smells. Like this was a normal day and I wasn't about to be arrested in the middle of Main Street.
"Sarah Potter," Miller said, pulling out his handcuffs with obvious relish, "you're under arrest for aiding and abetting a fugitive, obstruction of justice, and conspiracy to—"
"Don't you fucking touch her."
Kael's voice cut through the air like a blade, low and deadly. I turned to see him taking a step toward Miller, his entire body radiating menace. The younger deputy's hand tightened on his weapon.
"Kael," I said sharply. "Stop."
"He's putting his hands on you—"
"He's doing his job." I kept my voice firm, authoritative, even as Miller grabbed my wrist and pulled it behind my back. The metal of the handcuffs was cold against my skin. "And you're going to let him. Do you understand me?"
Kael's jaw clenched so hard I heard his teeth grinding. But he didn't move, didn't attack, even though every line of his body screamed that he wanted to.
"Good," I said quietly. "Trust me."
"Ms. Potter—" the younger deputy began.
"Save it," I interrupted. "I know my rights. I'm invoking my right to remain silent, and I'm requesting that my client be afforded the same courtesy. We'll answer questions in the presence of counsel."
Miller snorted. "You are counsel."
"Then I suppose we'll be waiting a while." I met his eyes steadily. "Unless Sheriff Dawson wants to add violation of constitutional rights to the list of complaints I'll be filing with the state attorney's office."
That wiped the smirk off his face.
They cuffed Kael next—or tried to. The standard-issue handcuffs Miller had wouldn't fit around his wrists, so they used zip ties instead, pulling them tight enough that I saw him wince. Rage flared hot in my chest, but I forced it down, forced myself to stay calm and professional.
This is part of the plan, I reminded myself. Let them think they've won.
The younger deputy—his name tag read "Patterson"—guided me toward the patrol car with a hand on my elbow. Not rough, but not gentle either. Miller had Kael by the arm, though I noticed he kept as much distance as possible, smart enough to be wary even with Kael restrained.
"In the back," Miller ordered, opening the rear door of the patrol car.
I slid in, the vinyl seat cracking beneath me. A moment later, Kael was pushed in beside me, his shoulder pressing against mine in the confined space. The door slammed shut, and suddenly we were alone—as alone as we could be with two deputies in the front seat and a metal grate separating us.
"Sarah," Kael said, his voice barely above a whisper. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Exactly what I planned," I murmured back, keeping my eyes forward. "I told you—this is part of it."
"Getting arrested is part of your plan?" His disbelief was palpable. "How is this—"
"Because Dawson was always going to arrest us the moment we came back to Franklin," I said quietly. "There was no avoiding it. So I made sure it happened on my terms, not his."
The patrol car pulled away from the curb, heading toward the courthouse. Through the window, I saw people on the sidewalk stopping to stare—Sarah Potter, respected defense attorney, in handcuffs in the back of a police car with an Orc. The gossip would spread through town within the hour.
Let them talk. I had bigger concerns.
"What terms?" Kael demanded. "Sarah, if you think I'm going to let you take the fall for this—"
"I'm not taking the fall for anything." I turned my head slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. "Do you trust me?"
"That's not the point—"
"Do you trust me?" I repeated, more firmly.
His jaw worked, frustration and fear warring in his expression. "Always."
"Then trust that I know what I'm doing."
He gave a single, tight nod, but I saw the tension radiating through his entire body.
His shoulders were rigid, his hands flexing against the ties behind his back like he was fighting every instinct he had.
Those dark eyes kept darting between me and the officers in the front seat, calculating, assessing—looking for any sign that he needed to act to protect me.
Something warm unfurled in my chest, dangerous and distracting. I loved that about him—how fiercely he wanted to protect me, how his first instinct was always to keep me safe, even at cost to himself. How he looked at me like I was something precious worth defending.
I shoved the feeling down hard. Not now. I couldn't afford to think about what Kael meant to me, couldn't let myself dwell on the way my heart responded to his presence. There would be time for that later—or there wouldn't. Either way, right now I needed every ounce of focus I had.
Right now, I had to be the attorney, not the woman who'd fallen for her client.
The patrol car turned onto East Main Street, and the courthouse came into view—a stately brick building with white columns and a copper-domed roof that had turned green with age.
I'd walked through those doors hundreds of times, argued cases in those courtrooms, won and lost and fought for justice within those walls.
Today would be no different.
Miller parked in the law enforcement lot behind the courthouse, and Patterson opened our door. "Out," he said curtly.
I slid out awkwardly, my balance thrown off by having my hands cuffed behind my back. Kael emerged after me, and I saw him scanning the area with sharp, assessing eyes—looking for threats, escape routes, anything he could use to protect me.
"Kael," I said softly. "It's okay."
He grunted in agreement, but I could tell he didn't quite believe it.
We entered through the back door, the one reserved for prisoners and law enforcement. The hallway was narrow and dimly lit, smelling of industrial cleaner and old coffee. Our footsteps echoed on the linoleum floor as Miller and Patterson marched us toward the holding cells.
And there, waiting at the end of the hallway with his arms crossed and a triumphant smile on his face, was Sheriff Randall Dawson.
"Well, well," he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Look what the cat dragged in."
I kept my expression neutral, but inside, my mind was racing. Dawson looked too pleased with himself, too confident. He thought he'd won. Thought he'd finally caught us, finally had the leverage he needed to destroy Kael and punish me for defending him.
He had no idea what was coming.
"Sheriff," I said coolly. "I assume you're here to personally oversee our unlawful detention?"
His smile widened. "Unlawful? Ms. Potter, you fled the jurisdiction with a murder suspect. You obstructed an ongoing investigation. You—"
"My client was never formally charged," I interrupted. "He was being held for questioning, which he voluntarily submitted to. When his safety became compromised while in your custody, he exercised his right to leave."
"Compromised?" Dawson's face darkened. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"The plans to murder my client," I said calmly, meeting him glare for glare. "Your systematic harassment of the Orc community. A pattern of misconduct that I will detail in my formal complaint to the state attorney general and the FBI."