Page 16 of The Orc Protector's Secret Baby

"What do you really want?" I demand, searching his face for any sign of deception. "If you're going to kill me, just get it over with."

Cagan's expression softens, and something that looks almost like pity crosses his features. It makes my skin crawl. "I'm not going to kill you," he says quietly. "I'm not going to hurt you at all."

I bare my teeth in a snarl. "Then what? You want to take me back to your clan? Use me as a breeder?" The words taste like ash in my mouth, memories of past horrors threatening to overwhelm me.

"No!" Cagan's vehement denial startles me. He takes a step forward, and I immediately tense, ready to bolt. But he stops, seeming to realize his mistake. "No," he repeats, softer this time. "Nothing like that. I just... I want to help you."

I stare at him, searching for the lie. It has to be there. Orcs don't help humans. They use us. Hurt us. Destroy us.

But I can't find any deceit in those golden eyes.

"Are you lost?" Cagan asks, his voice surprisingly gentle for such a massive creature.

I shake my head, my wet hair clinging to my face. "And you aren't going to tell anyone that I'm out here either." It's not a question. It's a demand, even if my voice wavers.

My fingers tighten around the makeshift blade, though I know it's useless against his thick hide. No one can know I'm here. If word gets back to the Sword Hammer clan... I suppress a shudder. I'd rather die than go back to that hell.

Cagan's golden eyes study me, and I force myself not to flinch under his gaze. I've survived worse. I can survive this.

"Alright," he says after a long moment. "I won't tell anyone."

I narrow my eyes, searching for the lie. There has to be a catch. There's always a catch with orcs. "Why?" I demand. "What do you want in return?"

He shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. It looks out of place on his fierce features. "I don't want anything. You clearly need help, and-"

"I don't need your help," I snarl, cutting him off. The words taste like ash in my mouth. How many times have I heard that before? How many times has "help" turned into pain and humiliation?

Cagan holds up his hands, palms out. "Okay. You don't need help. But at least let me give you some supplies. Food, water, maybe a proper weapon?"

I blink, thrown off balance by his offer. It has to be a trick. Some new, cruel game. "Why would you do that?"

He sighs, running a hand through his thick black dreads. "Because it's the right thing to do. And because..." He trails off, his gaze distant. "Because I know what it's like to feel trapped. To want to escape."

For a moment, I see something in his eyes. Something that looks almost... human. But I push the thought away. He's still an orc. Still dangerous.

"Fine," I say, my voice hard. "But if you try anything, if you tell anyone I'm here, I'll-"

"You have my word," Cagan interrupts, his tone serious. "No one will know you're out here. I swear it on my honor as a warrior."

There's that word again. Honor. But there's something in his voice, in the set of his jaw, that makes me pause. Maybe... maybe he's telling the truth.

Cagan opens his mouth, clearly about to say something else, but I don't give him the chance. My instincts scream at me to run, to get as far away from this orc as possible. Without a second thought, I bolt.

My bare feet pound against the forest floor as I sprint away from Cagan. Branches whip at my face and arms, but I ignore the sting. All that matters is putting distance between us.

I don't look back. I can't. If I see him pursuing me, I might lose what little courage I have left. Instead, I focus on the path ahead, dodging trees and leaping over roots with the agility born of years on the run.

My lungs burn, and my muscles scream in protest, but I push harder. I've survived this long by never letting my guard down, by never trusting anyone – especially not an orc. No matter how sincere Cagan seemed, I can't shake the feeling that he's dangerous. Not just because he's an orc, but because... because for a moment, I almost believed him.

That terrifies me more than any physical threat.

As I run, my mind races. What if Cagan was telling the truth? What if he really did want to help? But even if that's true, it doesn't matter. Getting involved with any orc, no matter how seemingly kind, is asking for trouble. I've learned that lesson the hard way, over and over again.

No, it's better this way. Better to be alone than to risk being betrayed or hurt again. I've built my life around survival, around staying hidden and free. I can't let one conversation, one moment of weakness, jeopardize everything I've fought for.

I hope I never see Cagan again. He represents an unwelcome complication in my carefully constructed solitude. Just the thought of him makes my chest tighten with anxiety. What if he changes his mind and decides to tell his clan about me? What if he comes looking for me again?

I shake my head, trying to clear these thoughts. It doesn't matter. I'll be long gone, hidden so well that even if he does try to find me, he never will.