Inside, Kelt stands over a table covered with maps and printouts. He looks up when I enter and his expression tells me immediately that this isn’t routine.
My body goes still. “What’s wrong?”
“We learned something new.”
The words land like stones. I move closer, scanning the documents on the table. Communications intercepts, satellite imagery and personnel files with faces I don’t recognize.
“Someone leaked Anna’s location,” Kelt says, his voice grim. “They know she’s at an orc commune in Maine. They don’t have our exact coordinates yet, but they know she’s here.”
All thoughts of the almost-kiss are gone, replaced with a cold focus. “How?”
“I intercepted communication between Aldridge’s security team and a private military contractor.” Kelt taps one of the files. “I don’t know how they know this, but they know and they’ve hired mercenaries.” He shows me the communication. “Theydon’t plan on taking her alive, their objective is termination. Four or five professionals have been hired. These humans are ex-military. Well-funded, well-equipped.”
I pick up one of the personnel files. Hard eyes stare back at me from the photograph. “When are the coming?”
“They were mobilized three days ago. Their current position is unknown, but they’re moving toward Maine.”
“Weapons?”
Kelt’s jaw tightens. “They’re equipped with scent bombs.”
The words hit like a physical blow. “Garlen went feral at Black Oak Academy because of a scent bomb. His mind fractured, driven by nothing but primal instinct. It took four of us to chain him. Scent bombs are designed to trigger that state deliberately—to turn orc protectors into mindless threats that can’t distinguish friend from enemy.”
“I know.”
“How are they getting scent bombs?” I demand. “Humans don’t know how to manufacture them. They never have. That technology is orc-made.”
Kelt’s expression darkens. “That’s what concerns me most. Either someone sold the formula, or...”
“Crimson Tusk. They manufactured the bomb used against Garlen. They’re the only faction with both the capability and the motive.”
“Orcs arming humans against other orcs.” Kelt shakes his head slowly. “If that’s true, this goes beyond the threat to Anna. This is a betrayal of our entire kind.”
The implications settle over me like ice water. “Crimson Tusk hates integration enough to arm human mercenaries with weapons designed to turn us feral? To use our own protective instincts against us. It seems impossible because I thought we’d built a good peace with them recently, but if they did this, then I was very wrong about that.” I pick up my cell phone and starttapping on the screen. “I have to alert my Irontree cousins in California about this new development.”
Kelt nods and reaches for his radio. “And I’m going to bring in Rogan and Urdan.”
Within minutes, both orcs arrive. Rogan enters first, his scarred face unreadable. Urdan follows close behind. They take in the documents spread across the table without speaking.
“Scent bombs,” Rogan says flatly after Kelt briefs them. “Being used by humans.”
“Yes.”
“How would they deploy them?” Urdan asks.
Kelt pulls out a tactical diagram. “Based on the equipment they’ve requisitioned, likely aerosol canisters. Thrown or launched. The bomb that hit Garlen was a timed device, but these mercenaries are trained for rapid assault. They’d want something faster. Break the perimeter, throw the canisters, wait for us to turn on each other while they extract the target.”
“They won’t care if we kill Anna in the chaos,” I say quietly. “In fact, that might be the point. She dies, the evidence dies with her, and they blame it on feral orcs.”
Rogan’s jaw tightens. “Convenient.”
“What’s our counter?” Urdan demands.
Kelt hesitates. That hesitation tells me everything.
“There isn’t one,” I say. “Not really. The only thing that pulled Garlen back was Ellie. Her presence. Her calm scent. Their bond.”
“Anna isn’t bonded to you,” Rogan points out.
