"Come with me."
The words tear from my throat before I can stop them, desperate and raw and completely honest. She freezes, eyes wide with shock, and I press on before courage abandons me.
"We'll find my brothers, build something new. I can protect you, Forla. I swear by my ancestors' bones, nothing will ever hurt you again while I draw breath."
For a moment, hope flickers in her dark eyes. I see her imagine it—the open road, adventure, a life unbound by fear and careful safety. But then reality crashes back, and the walls slam shut.
"You know I can't."
The gentle finality in her voice breaks something inside me that I thought was already shattered beyond repair. She touches my face with infinite sadness, her thumb tracing my cheek like she's trying to memorize the texture.
"Talia and Brom saved me from slavery," she whispers. "Gave me family, home, purpose. I won't abandon them now, not when they need me."
I want to rage, to demand, to throw her over my shoulder and carry her to safety whether she likes it or not. Every orc instinct screams at me to take what's mine, to claim my mate and damn the consequences.
But that's what her captors did—stripped away her choice, treated her like property instead of person. I won't be another man who steals her freedom, even if it kills me to let her go.
"I understand," I say, though the words feel like swallowing molten metal. "They're your family."
She nods, tears streaming down her face. "And you have yours to find."
We dress in heavy silence, both knowing this is goodbye. Every movement feels weighted with finality, each shared glance another small death. When she's fully clothed, she looks smaller somehow, more fragile, like a piece of my imagination that's starting to fade.
At the barn door, she presses something into my hand—a small carved charm. A protective symbol, worn smooth by anxious fingers during countless dark nights.
"So you remember," she whispers.
I close my fist around the token, feeling its edges bite into my palm. "As if I could forget."
I kiss her one last time, pouring all my love and desperation into it. She tastes like tears and goodbye, like everything I'm walking away from and everything I'll never have again. When we break apart, both of us are shaking.
"I'll come back for you," I promise, though we both know it's a lie. "When my brothers are safe, when the danger's passed—I'll come back."
She nods like she believes me, but I see the truth in her eyes. This is it. This is all we get. One perfect night stolen from an imperfect world, and now duty calls us back to our separate hells.
I turn away before my resolve crumbles completely, before I do something we'll both regret. My axe feels heavier than mountains as I shoulder it, my pack like carrying the weight of every mistake I've ever made.
At the edge of the farmyard, I look back one last time. She stands silhouetted in the barn doorway, small and brave and heartbreakingly alone. The sight burns itself into my memory—something to carry with me through whatever darkness lies ahead.
Then I force myself to walk away from the only woman who's ever made me want to be more than just a weapon.
Behind me, I hear her whispered words carried on the morning breeze: "Come back to me."
The plea follows me into the forest, an anchor and a torment both. I will come back, I swear silently. Somehow, someway, I'll find my brothers and then return to claim the woman who owns my heart.
But first, I have to survive what's coming.
The charm burns against my palm like a brand, marking me as hers even as distance grows between us. I tuck it safely awayand turn my face toward the horizon, toward duty and danger and the impossible hope that love might be enough to overcome everything that stands between us.
Behind me, the farm grows smaller until it disappears completely.
Ahead lies uncertainty, but for the very first time since the shipwreck, I have something worth fighting for beyond mere survival.
I have something worth coming home to.
8
FORLA
