Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Sloane
Islept like hell and I don’t care, because I’m eating pancakes in a mountain mansion surrounded by orcs and a darling corgi, and somehow this has become my life.
The kitchen is loud this morning. Garlen is at the stove flipping pancakes again while Zoe chatters about a class party on Friday.
Ellie is packing lunches and simultaneously quizzing Zoe on her spelling words.
Aldar is at the table with his tablet, probably texting Lucy, though he’d deny it under oath.
Loki weaves between everyone’s legs, tail wagging, living his best chaotic corgi life.
And Jonus is pouring me coffee. Cream and sugar, barely any actual coffee, exactly the way I like it. He sets it in front of me without being asked and our fingers brush on the handoff. A small thing, except that warmth zings through my entire body.
I slept terribly last night because every creak of the house, every sound outside the window made me tense.
I wasn’t afraid for myself last night, I was afraid for Zoe upstairs and for Ellie and the baby growing inside her.
For Laurie and Dane next door. For Jonus, whose bruised knuckles I can see wrapped around his own coffee mug.
The fear I felt yesterday wasn’t the pit fear. I know that fear intimately. I lived with it for twelve days and I can manage it. This is worse. Because in the pit, I only had myself to lose.
I pick at my pancakes and watch Jonus move through the kitchen. The big orc ruffles Zoe’s hair, checks the front window out of habit and refills my coffee before I’ve even finished the first cup.
The thought crystallizes for the hundredth time: I’m not staying in Truckee because it’s safe. Yesterday proved that it’s not safe. I’m staying because of him.
“Okay.” I set my fork down and clear my throat. “I need to bring something up and I’m just going to say it because it’s been bugging me.”
Several faces turn my way.
“I’ve been keeping a running tally of everything you’ve all spent on me.
It’s been super sweet of everyone to take care of me like this, but I can’t accept all of these handouts without compensation.
The laptop, the phone, the clothes, the Walmart runs, the medical bills.
It’s too much. I owe this family thousands of dollars at this point and I need to start paying you back.
” I look at Jonus. “Especially to you. I make a good salary at the Times. I have an actual savings account. I can set up a payment plan or—”
“You don’t owe us anything,” Jonus says.
“Jonus, I’m serious. I’m not a charity case. I have money and I can—”
Ellie exchanges a glance with Garlen. A small, knowing smile tugs at her lips. “Sloane, honey. Has anyone explained to you how orc finances work?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
Garlen turns from the stove, spatula in hand.
“Orcs mined gold and precious metals from our ancestral mountain caves for centuries. When our species integrated into human society, we began converting those resources into human currency and investments. Every orc family that originally came from a commune has generational wealth.”
I stare at him. Then I look around the mansion and at the enormous kitchen and the custom furniture sized for orcs. Then I think of the entire mission to rescue me from Colombia, which must’ve been ridiculously expensive.
Oh wow.
“So when you said you were both teachers…”
Ellie laughs. “Oh, we are both teachers, but we teach because we love it, not because we need the income.”
I turn slowly to Jonus. “You’re rich?”
“The Irontree family has vast resources, yes, and I’m part of that family.”
“How rich?”
He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that reminds me he’s only twenty-nine, even though he acts mature beyond his years.
“Enough that you would never need to worry about money for housing or living ever again. That your children would never worry. That no one in this family would ever need to worry.”
I sit with this for a moment. This orc who makes me turkey sandwiches with no crusts, who sleeps in a nice but essentially ordinary bedroom with a single photo on the shelf, who carried me through a jungle, has never once bragged about his wealth.
I just stare at him, stunned.
His dark eyes meet mine and he shrugs. “Currency is something humans fret about but not orcs. All I worry about is if you’ll eventually want to stay with me.”
The table goes quiet. Zoe is oblivious, feeding Loki a piece of pancake under the table. But every adult in the room heard what he just said. He wants me to stay.
“Well,” Ellie says brightly, breaking the tension.
“We need to get going or we’ll be late. Zoe’s bus will be here soon.
Let’s hit it Mr. Irontree, our students await.
” She kisses Garlen, scoops up Zoe’s backpack, and herds her daughter toward the door.
Garlen follows after giving Jonus a look I can’t quite decode.
The house empties. Aldar disappears to his room. And then it’s just me, Jonus and Loki again.
I stare into my coffee. “I can’t believe you’re all filthy rich and yet Aldar buys me underwear at Walmart.”
Jonus chokes on his coffee. “You needed clothes quickly. Walmart was practical.”
“Jonus, I assumed you were an upper middle-class orc trying to make his way in the world and now I find out you’re…you’re…I don’t know, it makes me feel like we don’t have as much in common as I thought. Why do you want me to stay if you’re rich and I’m not and never will be?”
“Sloane, do I act rich?”
“No,” I laugh. “Not at all.”
He shrugs. “Again, the currency doesn’t mean as much to me as it does to humans. Mainly I have a lot of gold and jewels I can use if I need anything special, like a house or a vehicle. But mainly all I need is your beautiful presence, and of course my family.”
I shake my head, but I’m smiling despite everything. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” I respond.
He laughs and then lifts me from my spot at the kitchen table. “Let’s get to work,” he orders.
We settle into our usual spots on the couch. Laptops open, Loki between us. I try to focus on the article, but my brain won’t cooperate. I keep rereading the same paragraph about Aldridge’s shell company structure in Panama and none of it sticks.
My phone rings. I glance at the screen and see that it’s Melissa Duncan, my editor at the Times. I’m surprised she’s calling because usually we text. I put it on speaker phone so Jonus can hear what we’re saying too.
“Sloane.” Melissa’s voice is warm with relief and sharp with purpose. That’s Melissa—she can make you feel loved and terrified in the same sentence. “It’s good to talk to you. I want you to know how grateful I am that you were rescued and made it out okay.”
“Hey, Melissa. Thanks, I’m happy I made it out okay too.”
“Good. Good. Now listen. Legal has reviewed your draft and the documentation. We’re almost ready to go.”
My heart rate picks up. “How soon?”
“Days. Maybe sooner if you can get me confirmation on the last Cayman banking records. Sloane, this piece is extraordinary. The international angle, the cartel connection, the firsthand account of being kidnapped because of your investigation—” She pauses.
“This is Pulitzer territory. You know that, right?”
“Well,” I admit. “I was getting the good kind of goosebumps when I was putting it all together. But you can never be sure…”
“Oh I’m sure. And after this publishes,” Melissa continues, “every outlet in the country is going to want you. Interviews, panels, follow-ups. The Times wants to feature you, not just the story. We’re talking cover profile, Sloane.
The story of how you were rescued will be huge in itself. This could define your career.”
“That’s wonderful. Exciting. But I did all of this to take down Aldridge. I want him behind bars.”
“Yes, of course. And the more your story gets out, the harder it will be for that asshole to stay out of prison. But I need you back in DC,” she finishes. “Press tour, debrief, follow-up pieces. This story needs you back here at the Washington Bureau. How soon can you return?”
I look over at Jonus on the other end of the couch. He’s pretending to work on his laptop, but I can tell he’s listening. His jaw is tight.
“Um…I need some time to figure out logistics,” I tell Melissa. “I’m still recovering and there are security concerns.”
“I understand. But don’t wait too long. This window won’t stay open forever. The news cycle moves fast and we need to strike while the iron is hot.”
“I know. I’ll call you back soon.”
I hang up and the phone feels heavy in my hands.
Jonus doesn’t push. He just watches me from across the couch with those dark eyes.
I state the obvious. “She wants me back in DC after the story publishes.”
“What do you want to do?”
He doesn’t make demands, guilt-trip me or imply that leaving would be a betrayal of what’s between us.
He just asks what I want and somehow that’s worse, because if he’d demanded, I could push back.
If he’d guilted me, I could get angry. But this quiet question forces me to actually figure out the answer.
I want to stay. I want this house, this family, this orc, these mountains.
I want mornings with Loki and group chats with Anna and Ellie and the sound of Jonus making me breakfast before I’m even awake.
I want wound care that makes me blush and drives that feel like I’m on another planet.
I want to learn what it means to be loved by someone who shows up, every single time, without being asked.
But saying that means giving up the career I built from scratch.