Chapter 3 #2
Tori's hand went to her cheek, touching the place where the bruising was no longer visible, at least physically.
"He was slapping me. While he was confessing.
Every time I tried to argue or defend myself, he'd hit me.
" She looked at Argon, and a fierce pride lit her eyes.
"I fought back. Kicked him. Broke his nose. "
"Good." The word came out fierce, almost savage. "That's good. That's evidence of self-defense."
"He went crazy after that," Tori continued. "He grabbed me by the throat and started squeezing."
Argon's hand tightened on hers, his knuckles white.
"I couldn't breathe," Tori whispered. "I thought that was it. That I was going to die in those woods and no one would ever know what happened to me."
"But Argon found you," I said softly.
"I'd been looking for her," Argon said, his voice rough. "When we found out Todd had come to get her, we went to the winery, found Todd and Dot and they told us what happened. I tracked her scent into the woods."
"How long did it take you to find her?"
"Twenty minutes. Maybe less." His jaw clenched. "When I got to the clearing, Stephen had her on the ground. His hands were around her throat. She wasn't moving."
"What did you do?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
"I didn't think," Argon said. "I just moved. He shot at me a couple of times but I grabbed him by the head and twisted."
"You broke his neck," I said, writing it down.
"Yes." His voice was flat, emotionless. "I didn't fight him. Didn't throw him around or beat him. Just... he was dead before he hit the ground."
I nodded, writing that down too. In a self-defense case, the lack of excessive force would matter. Argon hadn't brutalized Stephen, hadn't let his rage take over. He'd simply stopped the threat in the most efficient way possible.
"What happened next?" I asked.
Ruka shifted in his chair. "We got Tori back here for Jordan to treat. After that, Kael and I went back to dispose of the body." His expression turned sour. "I knew we couldn't trust Dawson."
"And you were right," I quipped, rolling my eyes. "What did you do with the body?" I asked, my pen poised over the paper.
"He'd been lurking in the Nantahala Forest for a few weeks. We made it look like he'd been pleasure camping. Set up his gear, got rid of the military paraphernalia, scattered some trash around, made it look lived-in."
"And then?" I prompted, even though my stomach was churning.
"Then Kael and I carried the body to the gorge," Ruka said. "About five miles northeast of the campsite. We made sure it landed on his head when we dropped it. The broken neck would look like he'd fallen while hiking, hit his head on the rocks."
I wrote it all down, my handwriting mechanical now. "How deep was the ravine?"
"Three hundred feet, maybe," Ruka said. "Deep enough that the fall would be believable. We figured it would be months before anyone found him. Long enough for the evidence to degrade, for the scene to look natural."
"But he was found after two months," I said.
"Yeah." Ruka's voice was grim. "We thought we'd have more time."
I set down my pen and rubbed my temples, trying to process everything.
The story made sense—horrible, tragic sense.
Stephen had been a monster. He'd killed two men, sabotaged Tori's business, kidnapped and assaulted her, and was in the process of strangling her to death when Argon intervened. Any jury would call it justified.
But they'd covered it up. They'd moved the body, staged the scene, lied to the police. I understood it, but it changed everything.
My mind was already running through the legal angles, calculating the risks.
Self-defense was a strong argument—Argon had acted to save Tori's life, used only the force necessary to stop an imminent threat.
But the prosecution wouldn't see it that way.
They'd argue that moving the body, staging the scene, destroying evidence—that proved consciousness of guilt.
That proved it wasn't self-defense at all, but murder followed by an elaborate cover-up.
And the worst part? They'd have a point.
Even if we could prove self-defense—even if we put Tori on the stand, even if we showed the jury exactly what kind of monster Stephen had been—we still had to explain why they'd hidden the body.
The necessity defense was weak. Arguing that they couldn't trust Dawson, that they feared for their lives if they came forward—it might work with a sympathetic jury, but it was a gamble.
A big gamble. Not a lot of juries around here would be sympathetic to Orcs.
And if we lost that gamble, Kael, and maybe Argon wouldn't just face charges for the killing.
They'd face obstruction of justice, tampering with evidence, maybe even conspiracy.
Years in prison, regardless of whether the killing itself was justified.
My chest tightened. I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't let Argon go to prison for saving his mate's life or Kael sacrifice himself to save his brother.
Which meant I had to get the charges dismissed before it ever got to trial. I had to find a way to make this case disappear entirely, because once we were in front of a jury, the outcome was too uncertain. Too risky.
"The broken nose," I said, looking at Tori. "You said you broke Stephen's nose when you fought back."
"Yes," she said.
"That's going to be in the autopsy report," I mused.
"Do you think they'll think the broken nose happened at a different time than the fall?" Argon asked quietly.
"Maybe," I said. "Hopefully the medical examiner will find that Stephen's injuries were consistent with a fall, broken nose and all."
I picked up my pen again, tapping it against my legal pad.
"Here's what we're dealing with. The prosecution is going to argue that Kael—or whoever they think did this—murdered Stephen in cold blood and staged the scene to cover it up.
The working theory is that Kael killed Stephen so Argon could mate with Tori. "
"But it was self-defense," Tori said desperately. "Stephen was strangling me."
"I know," I said gently. "And that's our defense if we need one. But we have to prove it. We need evidence that Stephen attacked you, that you were in imminent danger, that Argon had no choice but to use lethal force."
The burden of proof would be on us—we'd have to prove necessity, prove that calling the police wasn't an option, prove that they had legitimate reason to fear for their lives.
It was possible. But it was far from certain.
"The bruises," Jordan said. "You remember... Tori had bruises all over her neck and face."
I sighed, hindsight being twenty-twenty. "I wish I'd thought to take pictures."
"I did," Jordan announced. "I took photos of her neck, her face, her arms."
"Do you still have those photos?" I asked, my heart racing.
"Yes. On my phone."
"Send them to me," I said immediately. "Those photos are evidence that Stephen assaulted Tori. They prove she was in danger."
Jordan pulled out her satellite phone, fingers moving quickly over the screen. A moment later, my phone buzzed with incoming messages. I opened them, and my stomach turned.
The photos were brutal. Tori's neck was covered in dark purple bruises, clear finger marks where Stephen had tried to strangle her.
Her face was swollen, her lip split, bruises blooming across her cheekbone and jaw.
Her arms showed defensive wounds—scratches and bruises where she'd tried to fight him off.
"These are good," I said, my voice tight. "These prove assault. These prove he was trying to kill you."
"But they don't prove Argon killed him in self-defense," Ruka said. "They just prove Stephen attacked Tori."
"No, but they establish the context," I said.
"They show that Stephen was violent, that he was capable of murder.
Combined with Tori's testimony about his confession to killing the Watkins brothers, we can paint a picture of a dangerous man who was in the process of committing murder when Argon stopped him. "
If we go to trial, I thought. If I can't get this dismissed first.
I looked around the room, at the faces of my friends.
Argon, who'd killed to save his mate. Tori, who'd nearly died.
Ruka, who'd helped cover it up out of loyalty.
Jordan who'd patched up the injuries and helped them to heal.
And Kael, who was sitting in a jail cell right now, taking the fall for his brother.
"Here's the problem," I said quietly. "Even if we can prove self-defense, you still moved the body.
You still staged the scene. That's obstruction of justice, tampering with evidence, maybe even accessory after the fact.
The prosecution could argue that if it was really self-defense, you would have called the police immediately. "
"Dawson would have killed me," Argon said flatly. "Or arrested me and made sure I never saw trial. You know how he feels about Orcs."
"I know," I said. "And that's part of our defense too. We can argue that you didn't trust the local law enforcement to treat you fairly, that you had legitimate reason to fear for your life if you came forward."
"Will that work?" Tori asked.
"I don't know," I admitted. "But it's what we have."
If we go to trial. If I can't find another way.
I looked down at my notes, at the detailed account of violence and desperation and love. My friends had done something illegal, something that could send them all to prison. But they'd done it to protect each other, to survive in a world that still saw Orcs as monsters.
And now I had to figure out how to save them.
My eyes drifted to Argon and Tori, the way they sat pressed together on the couch, his arm around her shoulders, her head resting against his chest. They looked exhausted but peaceful, like they'd weathered a storm and come out the other side still standing.