Page 15 of The Orc Protector's Secret Baby

"Easy," he rumbles, voice surprisingly calm. "I told you, I'm not here to hurt you."

"Shut up," I snarl. My hands are shaking, but I force steel into my voice. "I've heard all your lies before."

He starts to turn his head, but I dig the blade in deeper. A thin line of dark blood wells up.

"I said don't move!"

My heart hammers against my ribs. I'm acutely aware of how small I am compared to him. One wrong move and he could crush me. But I've got the advantage of surprise, and desperation makes me dangerous.

"Alright," he says, slowly raising his hands. "I'm not moving. What do you want?"

What do I want? To run. To be free. To never see another orc as long as I live.

But right now, survival is all that matters.

"Why are you here?" I demand. "Who sent you?"

He takes a deep breath, and I feel his chest expand against my arm. "No one sent me. I came here to clear my head. I didn't expect to find anyone."

Lies. It has to be. The woods aren't safe for solitary wandering, not even for orcs.

"You expect me to believe that?"

"It's the truth," he insists. "I'm Cagan of the Swordstone Clan. I give you my word as a warrior-"

"Your word means nothing to me," I cut him off. The name Swordstone sends a chill down my spine. I've heard whispers of their brutality.

I press the blade harder against his neck, my arms trembling with the effort. A thin trickle of blood runs down his green skin, but it's nothing more than a scratch. Terror claws at my insides as the realization hits me - I can't hurt him. Not really. Not enough to stop him if he decides to attack.

The orc - Cagan, he called himself - doesn't even flinch. Instead, he smiles. The expression is so unexpected, so out of place, that I nearly lose my grip on the blade.

"Let go," he says softly, his deep voice rumbling through his chest. "You're not going to hurt me, and I'm not going to hurt you. Just let go."

I glare at him, mustering every ounce of defiance I have left. My legs shake, threatening to give out, but I refuse to show weakness. I've come too far, survived too much, to back down now.

"I said, let go," he repeats, his tone firmer this time.

As I stare into his golden eyes, a sickening realization washes over me. He's humoring me. Playing along. If he wanted to, he could disarm me in an instant. Crush me like an insect. The only reason I'm still standing is because he's allowing it.

My stomach churns. I'm completely at his mercy, just like before. Just like always.

I take a step back, my eyes never leaving the massive orc before me. My heart pounds against my ribs, every instinct screaming at me to run. But I force myself to stand my ground, jaw clenched tight.

He hasn't attacked. Hasn't even tried to grab me. It doesn't make sense.

"What do you want?" I spit out, hating how my voice trembles. My fingers tighten around the makeshift blade, though I know it's useless against his thick hide.

Cagan holds up his hands, palms out. A placating gesture. As if I'm some wild animal he's trying to calm. "I told you, I just want to talk."

"Talk?" I scoff, the word bitter on my tongue. "Since when do orcs want to talk?"

His golden eyes narrow slightly. "We're not all the same, you know."

"Right," I sneer, taking another step back. My bare foot catches on a root, and I stumble slightly. Panic flares in my chest – any sign of weakness could be deadly. But Cagan doesn't move to take advantage.

Instead, he sighs heavily. "Look, I understand why you don't trust me. But I swear on my honor as a warrior, I mean you no harm."

Honor? The word almost makes me laugh. As if orcs know anything about honor.