I clench my jaw. I’ve always been the steady one. The Irontree who keeps his composure and handles things with charm and a well-placed smile. Garlen loses his mind over his Bride, Keric broods like a storm cloud, and I’m the one who smooths everything over. That’s who I am. That’s who I’ve always been.
I used to joke that I was immune to the mating pull. I’d met plenty of human women over the years and felt nothing beyond friendship. The freight train that Garlen described when he first saw Ellie? I figured it was something that happened to other orcs. Not me.
Then I met Sloane Adams through a laptop screen, and there was that immediate pull.
That first video call was supposed to be fifteen minutes. She needed a quote for her follow-up coverage on the Anna Kim story—the whistleblower who exposed the university fraud scheme. I was coordinating media for the family. Simple. Professional.
She appeared on my screen at two in the morning because I was working late and was nothing like I expected. Curlydark hair, messy like she’d been running her hands through it. Glasses. Tired hazel eyes that still managed to be sharp as knives.
An hour later, I’d completely forgotten to take notes. And so had she.
“Two minutes,” the pilot’s voice comes through. “Prepare for insertion.”
The team moves, doing final checks. The helicopter begins its descent.
My mind again drifts back to Sloane. After that first call, we kept talking. I learned she drinks too much coffee, works too late and has a laugh that’s husky and warm—the kind of laugh I found myself trying to earn. She’s brilliant at her job but gets passed over for on-camera work because she doesn’t “look the part.” That made me angry on behalf of a woman I’d never met in person.
Sloane is fantastically beautiful. Her auburn hair is long and thick and her blue eyes and freckles are mesmerizing. I could tell that her fiancé wasn’t right for her. I didn’t say this out loud, but I’d learned they have a long-distance relationship and saw each other rarely. And one of them would need to give up their job to move across the country to be together. He wanted Sloane to quit.
Ridiculous.
“Thirty seconds,” the pilot says.
I grip my rifle. Feel the helicopter touch down.
The last time I talked to her was three weeks ago. She was hyped about the money trail she’d found—Aldridge’s connection to the Reyes cartel. Shell companies in Panama, wire transfers through Cayman banks. The piece of the puzzle that Anna’s evidence hadn’t touched. Finding all this out and passing it over to human law enforcement should finally trigger an indictment for the formerly untouchable Aldridge.
“Sloane, this is dangerous,” I told her. “Of course I want Aldridge to go down, but you need to remain safe. Cartels don’t negotiate with journalists. They make them disappear.”
She waved it off. “I’ve got local contacts. A security protocol. I’ll be careful.”
I wanted to say more. Don’t go to Colombia without me. Come to California and let me…but what was I going to say? I was nobody to her. Just a voice on the other end of a video call. “Just be careful,” I said instead.
“I’m always careful.” She smiled at me through the screen.
It was the last time I saw her face.
Two days ago, I was at Keric and Anna’s wedding celebration in Maine. I should have been happy for my cousin. I should have been charming the guests and making everyone laugh. Instead, I stood at the edge of the party, unable to summon a single smooth word, my mind 2,500 miles south in a Colombian jungle.
Hold on, Sloane, I thought.
“Go, go, go,” Kelt orders through the headset.
My headphone is off. The helicopter door slides open and we pour out into the Colombian night. Hot, humid air hits my face. The rotors are deafening and then they’re fading as the bird lifts off to a safe distance.
Just jungle sounds now.
My orc senses expand outward, adjusting to the darkness. What would be nearly impossible for human eyes becomes gray twilight for me. I can see the shapes of trees, vines, undergrowth. I hear insects, night birds and small creatures moving through the brush.
And beyond that, maybe half a click out—the compound.
Kelt signals with hand signs now. No more voice comms unless necessary. Formation up. Move out.
We slip into the jungle. Kelt takes point and moves fast and silent despite his size. Cole and Martinez spread to the flanks. Aldar has his tablet strapped to his forearm, monitoring drone feeds. And I’m in formation, rifle up, not hanging back.
The weight of the weapon feels strange in my hands. I’m trained with it—all of us are—but it’s never been my tool of choice. I solve problems with words, strategy, charm. Tonight, I need to be something else.
The jungle is dense and dark. The two human team members we’ve hired, Cole and Martinez, are moving well because of their Navy SEAL training and their tech, but this is much easier for me. For orcs, our senses cut through like blades. I can hear the generator hum from the compound now, maybe half a click out. Radio music and humans speaking Spanish. Six, maybe seven distinct voice that are getting closer.
