Kruk reaches him.
And the entire rehearsal lunch holds its breath to see if there's going to be a murder before the actual wedding.
CHAPTER 8
KRUK
Icalculate the trajectory required to throw Derek into the sun.
The physics are unfavorable. Too much atmospheric resistance, insufficient initial velocity. I would need a catapult. I scan the perimeter for materials. The decorative wishing well shows promise.
"Kruk." Colletta's voice cuts through my tactical assessment. "Don't kill the Best Man. Please."
I pause three feet from Derek, who has gone very still, his pupils dilated in the universal mammalian fear response. Good. He should be afraid.
"He mocked you," I state. Simple fact. Undeniable.
"I know." She hops closer, still trapped in that ridiculous burlap sack, her face flushed and her hair coming loose from whatever pins attempted to restrain it this morning. "I know he did. But Monica will literally never forgive me if you murder him before the ceremony, and honestly, the guilt would probably ruin the sex we're definitely not having later."
The last part comes out in a rush, quiet enough that only I hear it with my superior Orcish hearing. My attention sharpens on her face. Her cheeks go redder.
Derek makes a small sound. I glance back at him. He looks like he wants to disappear into the ground.
"Please," Colletta adds, softer now, her hand reaching out to touch my arm. The contact burns through the thin fabric of this torture device they call a suit. "For me?"
I consider this.
The mission parameters are clear: protect Colletta, intimidate the ex-partner, maintain cover as her romantic attachment. Killing Derek would satisfy two of those objectives but complicate the third. Additionally, Colletta has explicitly requested his survival.
I adjust my strategy accordingly, recalculating the optimal path forward given this new constraint.
"Fine," I say, though the word tastes bitter on my tongue, like ash and disappointment mixed together. The predator in me wants to finish what we started, to see this through to its natural conclusion. But Colletta has issued a direct order, and I am hers to command. "He lives."
Derek's exhale is audible even from here, a shaky, trembling sound of relief that makes him seem even smaller than he already is. His shoulders sag as the tension drains from his body.
I turn back to Colletta, dismissing him entirely. "But we won the rest of the games."
Her mouth quirks at the corner. "All of them?"
"All of them," I confirm. "Overwhelming victory. Total domination. No one will remember his insult because they will only remember our supremacy."
She blinks up at me, and something shifts in her expression, becomes soft and startled. "That's... actually sweet? In a terrifying, hyper-competitive way?"
I do not understand why she seems surprised. Of course I will crush her enemies beneath my heel. This is basic partnership protocol.
"We start now," I announce, then scoop her up, sack and all, and carry her back to the starting line.
She yelps, grabbing onto my shoulders. "Kruk! I can walk!"
"No. You cannot. You fall." I place her next to our abandoned sacks. "I will carry you."
"That's not how the sack race works!"
"It is now."
Monica appears, looking frazzled, her coordinator headset askew. "Okay, everyone! Let's just... let's just move on to the next activity!" Her voice has a slightly manic edge. She avoids looking directly at me. "Lunch is served on the terrace, and then we have the trivia contest!"
Colletta groans quietly. "Oh god, the trivia."
