Page 64 of My Orc Package Deal

The scarred one nodded. “The kitlings’ scents are all over it.”

“Milo?” I called. “Jay, honey?”

No answer, and I twisted to send Korrad a worried look. He stepped up behind me. “Milo, I know you’re in there.”

I thought perhaps we were all holding our breath, to enable us to hear the tiny, scared little voice finally whisper, “Dad? I’m—we’re stuck.”

I was already pushing the panel out of the way, relief warring with terror in my chest, when Korrad’s hand closed around my wrist. I whirled to glare at him.

“I’m going in there. All of you are too big to fit—I’m amazed Jay fit!—and you can’t pull down the lighthouse, not when I can⁠—”

He grinned and squeezed my wrist before dropping it. “I trust you, dkaar. I just wanted to help you lift the panel out of the way.”

Oh.

I backed away, mollified, especially after realizing how heavy the wood was. Jay must’ve been the one to lift it in and out each day, because Milo surely couldn’t have managed. Once the panel was off, a little crawlspace was revealed. Glad I was wearing my jeans, I hoisted myself in and was glad for the little lift Korrad provided.

“Be safe, love,” he murmured, low enough I wondered if I was the only one to hear him.

I was already crawling forward. “Milo, honey? Where are you?”

This was a little space around the outside of the tower, the forgotten space between the interior and exterior walls. I was surprised how well I could see, thanks to the sunlight coming in through the cracks in the wood, which illuminated the improvements the boys had been doing to their “fort” all summer.

The space was smaller than I’d expected, but the boys had clearly put a lot of effort into making it their own. The first section of the floor was lined with fabric—one of Korrad’s old flannel shirts, I recognized, spread out to cushion the rough wood—and a few mismatched pillows were stacked in one corner. A pile of comic books, two half-empty bags of chips, and a water bottle suggested they’d been planning to stay awhile.

I crawled faster, my knees protesting the hard floor, my palms scraping against the rough wood. The scent of dust and old paint mixed with something sharper—fear. Milo’s fear.

“Mom?” His voice was small, trembling, and my heart clenched.

“I’m coming, honey. Just hold on.” I kept my voice steady, even as my pulse hammered in my throat. The sound of his quiet sniffles spurred me on, and I ignored the sting of splinters digging into my palms. “Almost there, baby. Just a little farther.”

“Hurry, Mom.” His voice cracked. “Jay’s hurt.”

My breath hitched, but I forced myself to keep moving, my focus narrowing to the pool of sunlight ahead. The boys were huddled together, Milo’s small frame curled around Jay’s larger one. Jay was stretched out on his back, his head resting in Milo’s lap, a dark smear of blood on his forehead.

Fear clawed up my throat, but I swallowed it down. “I’m here, sweethearts.” I reached for Milo first, my fingers brushing his shoulder. He was shaking, his face streaked with tears, but he didn’t pull away. “Hey, Milo. You’re doing so well, holding it together for your brother.”

Milo’s breath caught, but he nodded, his grip tightening on Jay’s hand. “He tripped. There was a nail, and it scraped him.”

I nodded, my gaze flicking over Jay’s still form. His chest was rising and falling steadily, at least, but the blood—god, the blood—made my stomach twist. “Okay. Let me see.” I kept my voice calm, even as my hands trembled. “Milo, can you move just a little? Let me get a better look at him.”

Milo shifted carefully, his movements stiff, like he was afraid to jostle Jay. I scooted closer, my fingers hovering over Jay’s forehead. The cut wasn’t deep, but head wounds bled like hell. My fingers came away sticky, and I wiped them on my jeans, my mind racing.

“Jay?” I murmured, pressing my palm gently to his cheek. “Can you hear me, sweetheart?”

He didn’t stir, but his breathing stayed steady. That was good. That was good.

The blood was scary, but scarier still was the fact that he was still unconscious. “When did this happen?”

“Not too long ago. We were getting ready to go back to Aunt Jossy’s, and I didn’t want to go, and he was making me, and when he bent down to get me⁠—”

Milo’s voice had risen progressively higher, his breaths coming in heaving gasps, and I knew he was on the verge of another meltdown.

So I turned my attention to him, cupping his face in my hands. “You did great, baby. This wasn’t your fault, and you kept him safe. Now I’m here, and I’m going to take care of both of you.” I pressed a kiss to his forehead, my voice dropping to a whisper. “That’s my job.”

He clung to me, reminding me of how young he really was, no matter how brave he pretended to be. As I rocked him, I kept my eyes on Jay, willing him to wake up.

As if my prayer had power, I saw his eyelids flicker, then slowly open. His dark gaze was unfocused, confused, but I sighed in relief.