Natalie’s voice came through one more time, breathless and terrified.
“They’re here!”
Then the connection cut off, leaving nothing but static.
Audrey kept shouting into the radio for several more minutes. She called for Natalie, Shauna, Owen. She must have shouted at least a dozen times, trying different frequencies, but no one picked up.
She jumped out of the tub and unlocked the bathroom door, ran through the house and burst outside onto the porch, the radio still clutched in her hand. She stopped there and stared down the road toward the forest, as if she could see all the way to where her team had been attacked. A few orcs passing by sent her odd looks, clearly confused by her panicked expression.
She hid the radio behind her back and forced a smile onto her face. She waved at them, trying to act like everything was fine. They nodded back uncertainly and continued on their way,though one of them kept glancing back at her with a puzzled expression.
Audrey went back into the house. She leaned against the closed door and slid down to the floor.
“What the hell happened?” she whispered to herself.
She didn’t know what to do. It seemed like the Tusk Hunters had just been attacked, but by whom? Had the orcs somehow discovered their base? Had another horde stumbled across them? She tried to reassure herself that they were going to be fine. They were hardened hunters who knew what they were doing, they’d survived countless dangerous situations before, and they’d survive this one too.
She felt the urge to go help them. Every instinct told her to grab her weapons and go, but she forced herself to stay put. Her mission was here, where Jorrad the Brutal walked around free and unpunished. If she could take care of herself in enemy territory surrounded by over a hundred orcs, then her team could take care of themselves as well.
But even as she tried to convince herself of that, her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Audrey sat on her bed with the radio clutched in her hands, her fingers trembling as she adjusted the dial. Static crackled through the speaker. She tried another frequency, then another, moving the dial in slow increments while her heart hammered against her ribs.
“Natalie,” she said into the receiver. “Shauna. Owen. Anyone, please.”
Nothing but static answered her.
She adjusted the antenna, angling it toward the window, then toward the door, then back again. Her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped the radio twice. She switched frequencies again, listening to the empty hiss of white noise that filled the room.
Half an hour passed this way. She cycled through every frequency she knew, then tried ones she didn’t. Her throat grew tight and her eyes burned.
Finally, she set the radio down.
The light in the room had changed. She glanced through the window and saw the sun setting, orange light fading into deep purple. Dinner would be soon. The horde would gather at the community center, and she’d be expected to sit beside Morgath like she had every evening.
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t sit at that table knowing Jorrad the Brutal would be there too, probably laughing and joking with the other warriors, maybe even at her expense. The idea of eating in the same room as him, breathing the same air as him, made her sick.
But it was more than that. Everything about this place suddenly felt wrong.
She had slept with Morgath. She had let him touch her, kiss her, hold her through the night. She had touched him back, wanted him, craved him, let herself forget who he was.
What had she been thinking?
Jorrad was his warrior. Jorrad served under his command, fought in his horde, and followed his orders. Maybe Morgath hadn’t killed her family with his own hands, but what did that matter? He could have given the order. He could have told his warriors to tear through her town, to break into houses, and slaughter everyone they found inside.
And even if he hadn’t given that specific order, he’d kept Jorrad afterward. He knew what kind of orc Jorrad was. Everyone called him Jorrad the Brutal. His name said everything.
How could she have forgotten, even for a moment, that Morgath the Skullreaper had killed people during the war?
The war lasted two years before the peace treaty was signed. Two years of orcs rampaging through human towns and cities, taking whatever they wanted, killing whoever got in their way. Morgath and his horde had been part of that, had fought, killed and destroyed, and she had no idea how many people had died because of them.
And she had slept with him.
The realization settled over her like a weight pressing down on her chest. She felt devastated, disgusted. The shame of it crawled over her skin and made her want to scrub herself raw until the feeling went away. She felt dirty.
Audrey decided she wouldn’t go to dinner. She’d tell Morgath she wasn’t feeling well. She was still injured, after all. Well, not really. The bandages wrapped around her ribs and arm were useless now, because she’d healed completely, but she wouldn’t remove them if they made her look more credible.
