Dungar grunted. “Absolutely not. Too dangerous.”
“But—”
“You need to stay here where it’s safe until this is over.”
The reasonable part of me understood his logic, but the rest of me chafed at the confinement. I’d spent months running,constantly moving, and staying in one place made me feel trapped even when I knew it was for my own protection.
“I know it’s fr-fr-frustrating,” Hail said, reading my expression with the accuracy that still surprised me. “But it won’t be much longer.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Will Carmichael isn’t patient,” Dungar said. “Fernandez has teams monitoring all the nearby towns. When he makes a move, we’ll know about it.”
“What if he decides to wait us out? We can’t stay inside this house forever, and Fernandez will need his crew for other jobs.”
The brothers exchanged one of their silent communications that I was beginning to recognize as family shorthand.
“Well, see, that was the other reason I came.” Dungar’s gaze swept across us both. “Detective Fernandez will be in town first thing tomorrow morning, and we’re going to set his plan in motion.”
“Good.” Finally, we’d be acting, not reacting.
Dungar left.
The rest of the day passed slowly, tension coiling tighter in my belly with each passing hour. Hail tried to distract me with stories about his childhood in the orc kingdom, sketches for the new pottery barn layout, and a thoroughly disastrous attempt at teaching me to play an orc card game that involved far too much strategy for my frazzled mind to handle.
“I don’t understand why the mining cards beat the crafting cards but lose to the hunting cards.” I stared at the confusing array spread across the kitchen table.
“It’s based on traditional orc society roles,” Hail explained patiently. “Miners provide raw materials for crafters, but hunters f-f-feed everyone, so they have the highest status.”
“But what about the family cards?”
“Family cards trump everything. Always.”
“That doesn’t make sense from a game balance perspective.”
Hail grinned, his tusks catching the afternoon light. “It makes perfect sense from an orc perspective. Family is more-more important than any individual achievement.”
I studied his face, seeing the quiet pride there when he talked about his culture, his people. “Do you miss the orc kingdom?”
“Sometimes. I miss the community, the way everyone has a place and a purpose.” He gathered the cards. “But I like the surface better. More poss-possibilities here. More freedom to become who you want to be instead of who tradition says you should be.”
“Is that why you chose pottery over something more traditionally orcish?”
“Partly. But mostly because clay spoke to me in a way nothing else ever had.” His expression grew distant, thoughtful. “In the kingdom, I was always the quiet brother, the one who st-st-stuttered through conversations and preferred books to battles. Here, I can be an art-art-artist. Create beauty instead of just s-s-surviving.”
The wistfulness in his voice made my heart ache. I reached across the table to take his hand, linking our fingers together. “I’m glad you came to the surface.”
“So am I. Otherwise I never would’ve met you.”
Heat fluttered low in my belly. Even after everything we’d shared, the way he looked at me still made me feel like the most desirable woman in the world.
“Hail…” I started to say, not sure what words would follow but knowing I needed to express my overwhelming gratitude and love.
A soft knock at the front door interrupted us. We both tensed, the peaceful moment shattered by the reminder that we were hiding, that danger could come at any time.
Dungar appeared from his office down the hall, moving with a weapon in hand and the controlled alertness that marked him as both sheriff and protective older brother. He checked the window before opening the door to reveal Greel standing on the porch.
“Everything alright?” Dungar asked, stepping aside to let his brother enter.
