Page 7 of The Orc Protector's Secret Baby

I can’t keep having that same conversation, over and over. But I don’t know how the hell I’m going to stop it.

Is this just going to be my reality forever? Waiting to take his place, all the while watching him fuck it up even more and ignoring everything I have to say?

I shake my head, looking around for another practice dummy. My eyes fall on Natus instead, a good friend of mine and an elite soldier in Swordstone. He walks into the training area, a smirk on his face.

“Need some help? The practice dummies could use a break.”

I can’t even muster up a joke to throw back at him. Nor a smile. I just nod and cross the area to the weapon rack.

“Grab a weapon,” I tell him.

After a quick look, I grab a long machete and turn to him. He chooses a similar looking machete, and the two of us walk to the middle of the sparring ring.

My skin feels like it’s buzzing, and I drown out the entire world around me. All I see is my target. Natus and I take up our fighting stances, and he looks just as focused as I am.

I make the first move, lunging forward, my machete aimed for his throat. He blocks it with his own knife and holds the position as I try to force the knife closer to his skin.

Eventually, he thrusts forward, pushing my machete away with his. I back up, readying myself for his attack. It comes faster than I thought, and Natus aims for my stomach. I block him and send him flying across the ring.

He’s back on his feet in seconds, grinning at me. “You’re going hard today. Afraid I’m gonna tell everyone about how I kicked the future Chieftain’s ass?”

His words trigger me more than they should. Suddenly, I don’t see Natus, my old friend anymore. I see my father.

I start circling around him, slowly. He keeps me in his eyeline, his machete raised up. He thinks I’m going to go for his throat again.

I dart forward, making contact with his leg. My knife slashes the skin there, blood immediately seeping out. I leap back, ignoring his grunt of pain, and ready myself for more.

He squares his shoulders, a look of determination taking over. When he darts forward, he goes for my left bicep. I use my knife to push him away before he even gets close, the sound of steel-on-steel ringing through the air.

I growl, leaping forward again, cutting into his other leg. Before he can even back away, I go for his throat again. He manages to block me, but barely. One second slower and I would’ve broken skin.

I keep going, not giving him a second to recover. My rage begins to take over until it’s all I feel, all I see.

I let myself imagine what it would feel like if this were actually the Chieftain. If it were his blood I was spilling.

That alone is enough to make me go absolutely feral.

All I can do is fight. I become a machine, a true monster, making swing after swing, letting all my senses be washed away but one. My sense of smell.

I follow the scent of blood all around the ring, refusing to give up. I can’t stop. I’ll never stop. Not until he’s dead.

I hear the way he speaks to me, the way he speaks to my sister, the way he treats her. Dooming her to an arranged marriage for nothing other than political reasons. Reasons that don’t even make sense because we have enough allies.

I see the way he doesn’t believe in me, never has, even though I’ve never given him a reason to feel that way. I’ve never let him down, always done what I was supposed to.

Oftentimes, I imagine what it would feel like to take his life. To fight him to the death. I’m not really sure what would stop me at this point.

“Brother! Cagan! Stop!”

I hear the voice, and for a second, I pause, but then I keep going, tackling him to the ground.

“Cagan please! You’re going to kill Natus!”

I freeze, my machete midair. My ears perk up, and I finally let myself see again.

Natus is below me, blood visible in several places. He’s panting, his eyes slightly widened.

I back away, immediately apologizing.