Chapter 024 The Sting
The red light on the monitor pulsed like a heartbeat. A slow, rhythmic warning that cut through the quiet hum of the sheriff’s office.
"Movement at checkpoint four," I said. My voice sounded strange to my own ears—detached, clinical. It was the voice I used when things went sideways, the one I’d perfected over years of looking over my shoulder. "Three targets. Still coming closer."
Thokk was already moving. He didn’t scramble. He didn’t rush. He simply transitioned from stillness to action with a terrifying efficiency that made the hair on my arms stand up. His fingers danced across the keyboard, isolating the feed.
"They could be splitting up," I murmured, watching the heat signatures separate and then weave back together on the grainy screen. "Targeting multiple access points simultaneously."
"No," Thokk said. "They’re clustering. Heading for the main gate." He keyed the radio mic, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Brothers. Targets are converging on the south gate. Hold your positions."
Static crackled, followed by Krug’s low voice. "Copy. We have eyes on them."
Thokk stood up. In the small office, his bulk seemed to consume all the available oxygen. He checked his utility belt—taser, cuffs, flashlight—with quick, precise touches. "Let's go."
My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage, but my hands were steady as I grabbed my own gear. For years, this level of adrenaline had meant only one thing: run. It meant finding the nearest exit, burning a credit card, and disappearing into a new name.
But I wasn't running. I was moving toward the danger. And I wasn't alone.
We exited the back of the station, the cool night air hitting my face like a wet towel. It smelled of pine needles and damp earth, a stark contrast to the sterile ozone scent of the electronics inside. We scrambled into the cruiser, Thokk behind the wheel. He didn’t use the sirens. We rolled out of the lot in darkness, the engine purring low as we headed toward the edge of town where the luminook pens had been set up.
"You okay?" Thokk asked. He didn't look at me, his eyes scanning the road, but his hand drifted across the center console to squeeze my knee. His palm was warm, heavy. Grounding.
"I'm fine," I said. And I was. The fear was there, but it was different now. It wasn't the cold, lonely terror of being hunted. It was the sharp, hot focus of the hunter. "Let's catch these bastards."
He grunted, a sound of approval that vibrated in his chest.
We parked a quarter-mile out, tucking the cruiser behind a copse of trees. The rest of the way was on foot. We moved through the darkness, the dry grass crunching softly under our boots. I found myself matching Thokk’s breathing, his stride. He moved silently for someone of his size, a shadow detached from the night.
Ahead, the perimeter fence of the pens loomed. The luminooks were quiet, likely huddled in their burrows, but the faint, bioluminescent hum of the enclosure gave the scene an eerie, underwater quality.
We crouched behind a stack of feed crates. I could sense the others nearby—Rokk, Garn, Bram, Vorn, Becken. I couldn't see them, but I knew they were there. The air felt thick with them. A pack lying in wait.
"There," Thokk breathed.
Three figures emerged from the tree line. They were dressed in dark clothes, moving with a clumsiness that didn't scream 'professional thief.' They carried large, cumbersome boxes, struggling with the weight.
I reached for my weapon, my thumb hovering over the safety. "Do we take them?"
Thokk’s hand covered mine, stopping me. "Not yet. Stand ready but do not engage. Let them begin their operation before we move in. We need evidence of intent."
I watched, my muscles coiled tight. The figures reached the gate. One of them fumbled with the latch, the metallic clink echoing loudly in the silence. The gate swung open. The leader waved the others inside.
"Now," Thokk growled.
He surged forward, and I was right beside him.
"Sheriff's Department!" Thokk’s voice boomed like thunder, shattering the quiet. "Freeze!"
Floodlights snapped on from the perimeter, blindingly bright.
The three figures froze like deer in headlights. At the same moment, Thokk’s brothers materialized from the shadows, closing the circle. It was a beautiful, terrifying display of coordination. Six massive orcs and one human deputy, blocking every possible exit.
"Lift your hands and back away from the boxes!" I shouted, leveling my flashlight at the lead figure.
The box in the leader’s hands crashed to the ground. A yelp of surprise, distinctly feminine, pierced the air.
"Don't shoot!" one of them shrieked.
"Hands!" Thokk roared, stepping into the light.
The figures scrambled to comply, hands shooting up. One of them lost her balance and sat down hard in the dirt. As my eyes adjusted to the glare, the adrenaline in my veins began to curdle into confusion.
These weren't hardened criminals. They weren't Joyce Milburn’s hired muscle.
The woman on the ground reached up and yanked off her knit cap, revealing a face pinched tight with anxiety and messy graying hair.
I lowered my flashlight. "Mary?"
Mary Pickens blinked, squinting against the light. "Cassidy? Sheriff?"
Beside her, the other two lowered their hands tentatively. I recognized them immediately. Ava, the photographer who had taken pictures of the town festival, and Joyce—not the Joyce we suspected, but Joyce from the bakery, looking terrified.
Thokk didn't lower his guard. He looked like a statue carved from granite, his eyes narrowing. "Identify yourselves."
"It's us, you big lummox," Mary snapped, her fear instantly pivoting to indignation as she scrambled to her feet, dusting off her pants. "Mary Pickens. Ava. Joyce. We’re not stealing anything. We’re here on official business. Surely you of all people know that."
The silence that followed was heavy. I looked at Thokk. He looked at me, his brow furrowed deep enough to plant corn in.
"Official business?" Thokk repeated, the words grinding out like gravel. "Breaking into a secure facility at two in the morning?"
"We didn't break in," Mary said, pointing a shaking finger at the gate. "I have a key. Given to me by the King himself, I might add."
Rokk stepped forward, scratching the back of his neck. "Uh, Thokk? She does have a key. It’s the master maintenance key."
I holstered my weapon and walked over to the box Mary had dropped. It had split open on impact. I knelt down, expecting to see tranquilizer darts, cages, or maybe stolen tech.
Instead, glowing rocks spilled out onto the dirt.
"Thokk," I said quietly.
He moved to my side, his large body shielding me from the others instinctively, even though the threat had evaporated. He looked down.
"These look like habitat supplements," I said, picking up a jagged stone that pulsed with a faint, warm light. "These are drakestone fragments."
I nudged the other flaps open. Inside were cloth bags that smelled of rich, damp earth and bundles of delicate, mossy plants.
"Tunnel moss," Thokk identified, his voice flat. "And mineral water."
He straightened up, turning his gaze back to Mary. "Explain. Now."
Mary crossed her arms, trying to regain some dignity despite the dirt on her knees. "I’m a xenobiologist, Sheriff. I have a degree from the University of Maine. My specialty was in interspecies habitat adaptation before I retired here."
I blinked. "I thought you ran the knitting circle."
"I contain multitudes, dear," Mary said dryly. "The Orc King visited the facility about a month ago. He was concerned the luminooks weren't thriving on the local vegetation. He authorized me to install these supplements. He said the new moon phase was the best time for environmental integration because their metabolic rates are lower."
She gestured to the boxes. "We didn't want to disturb the town or make a fuss, so we decided to do it at night. The King specifically told me he would handle the notifications."
Thokk went very still.
The brothers exchanged glances. Bram lowered his weapon completely, looking at a loss. Vorn was trying to hide a smile.
"The King authorized this?" Thokk asked.
"Yes," Mary said. "Personally."
Thokk reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out his notepad, though he didn't open it. It was a nervous tic I’d started to recognize—the need to organize, to check lists. "There’s been no official communication. No memos. No work orders. Nothing in the logs."
"Well, that’s hardly my fault," Mary huffed. "I’m just doing my job. Can we finish? These stones are heavy and my back is killing me."
Thokk stared at her for a long moment, then looked at the scattered drakestones glowing softly in the dirt. He ran a hand over his face, dragging his palm down his tusks. The tension that had been holding him upright seemed to shift, changing from combat readiness to a heavy, sinking dread.
"Let them finish," Thokk said finally. "Rokk, help them with the boxes. Garn, check the perimeter one last time."
"On it," Rokk said, easily hoisting the box Mary had struggled with onto one shoulder. "Come on, ladies. Let's get your rocks in the holes."
As the group moved toward the pens, chattering now, Thokk didn't move. He stood staring into the darkness beyond the fence line.
I moved closer, brushing my arm against his. "Thokk?"
He looked down at me. The golden flecks in his eyes were dim. "If Mary, Ava, and Joyce weren’t the thieves," he said softly, "then who was?"
The question hung in the air between us, cold and heavy.
We had built this entire operation on the assumption that the suspicious activity—the boxes, the meetings—was linked to the luminook theft ring. We thought we had them. We thought we were closing the net.
But if the boxes were just moss and rocks...
"We’ve been watching the wrong people," I whispered.
Thokk nodded grimly. He straightened his belt again, his fingers tracing the leather pouches. "And if we’ve been watching the wrong people... then the real threat is still out there. And they know we’re distracted."
I looked back toward the dark tree line. The sense of safety I’d felt moments ago, the thrill of the pack, began to curdle. The night suddenly felt very big, and very empty.
"We need to get back to the office," Thokk said, his voice hardening back into command mode. "We need to review everything. Every log, every camera feed. We missed something."
He took my hand, his grip tight. "Stay close to me, Cassidy."
"Always," I said.
But as we walked back to the cruiser, the silence of the woods didn't feel peaceful anymore. It felt like it was holding its breath.