“They expect resistance,” he says. “They don’t expect you inside their line.”
“They will if I fail.”
“Then don’t.”
That almost earns a reaction.
Almost.
The camp isn’t hidden.
It doesn’t need to be.
It spreads beyond the tree line in disorder, bodies moving with purpose, fires burning low and tight, the smell of iron and sweat thick enough to settle on the back of the tongue. Movement flows around me as I step into it, not forcing my way through, but aligning with it, matching pace and posture until I disappear into the pattern.
No hesitation.
No deviation.
An orc brushes past me, his shoulder clipping mine without a second glance, and I adjust my stride to match the surrounding movement, letting the rhythm carry me deeper instead of resisting it.
Voices rise and fall around me, sharp commands, low exchanges, none of them directed at me, none of them lingering long enough to invite attention.
Closer.
The structure tightens as I move inward, spacing narrowing, guards more deliberate in their positioning, their attention focused not outward but inward, protecting something central rather than scanning for threat.
That’s where I go.
A larger structure stands ahead, reinforced, positioned with intent rather than convenience. Two guards stand at its entrance, their posture different from the others—alert, still, watching.
I approach without slowing.
One steps forward, blocking the path, his gaze narrowing slightly as he looks me over. “Orders?”
I tilt my head just enough, letting the weight of the form carry the response. “From the front,” I say, roughening the tone, letting impatience edge into it. “Prisoner secured. Krago wants updates tight.”
He studies me longer than I’d prefer.
I shift my weight, just enough irritation in the movement to sell it. “You planning to question that,” I add, my voice tightening slightly, “or are you going to move?”
That does it.
He steps aside.
“Make it quick.”
I don’t acknowledge it.
I move.
The interior is dim, the air cooler, the noise from outside dulled into something distant and muted.
And then?—
I see her.
29
