Page 8 of Caged By the Orc

"Some life," I mutter, glaring up at him. My voice drips with sarcasm as I force myself to hold his gaze. "Trapped here, at your beck and call. I'd rather—" I cut myself off, biting back words I know I'll regret. But the unspoken threat hangs between us, sharp as a blade.

"Rather what?" he challenges. "Go back to that shithole tavern? Struggle to make ends meet? At least here you have stable food and a roof over your head."

His words hit too close to home. I turn away, blinking back tears of frustration.

"You don't know anything about me," I say quietly.

"I know you're a thief," Sarod retorts. "And ungrateful to boot."

I whirl back to face him. "You want gratitude? Fine. Thank you, oh mighty Sarod, for not killing me. Thank you for the privilege of being your servant. Is that what you want to hear?"

His jaw clenches. "I want you to do your job without attitude."

"Then let me work in peace," I snap. "Stop hovering over me like I'm about to steal the silverware."

For a moment, I think he might actually hit me. His hands clench into fists, and I brace myself. But then he takes a deep breath, visibly forcing himself to relax.

"Get back to work," he growls. "And remember your place."

As he storms out, I sink to my knees. The tears I've been holding back finally spill over. I've never felt so trapped, so powerless.

But as I wipe my eyes and pick up the scrub brush, a spark of defiance ignites in my chest. I won't let him break me. Somehow, some way, I'll find a way out of this mess. I have to.

I scrub the floor with renewed vigor, my mind racing. Sarod's footsteps fade down the hallway, but the weight of his presence lingers. I can't live like this forever. I won't.

My eyes dart around the opulent dining room, taking in every detail. The heavy curtains, the ornate vases, the gleaming silverware. Each item a potential tool, a possible key to my freedom.

"Think, Josie," I mutter under my breath. "There's gotta be a way out of this mess."

I picture Mom's face, her warm smile and tired eyes. The thought of her waiting for me, wondering where I've gone, makes my chest ache. I have to get back to her. We've struggled for so long, barely scraping by. But together, we've always found a way.

My hands move mechanically across the floor as I plot. The servants' entrance at the back of the house. The food delivery schedule, where Sarod gets a huge sum of fresh ingredients directly sent to his front door. The guards' rotation. Bits and pieces of information I've gathered over the past weeks, fitting together like a puzzle.

A plan starts to take shape in my mind. Risky, but possible. I'd need to time it perfectly, wait for just the right moment. And I'd need supplies. Money, food, something to trade.

My gaze lands on a small statuette perched on a nearby shelf. Solid gold, by the looks of it. My fingers twitch, remembering the weight of Sarod's jewelry. No. I shake my head, banishing the thought. That's what got me into this mess in the first place.

But maybe... maybe I could take just enough to get by. To give Mom and me a fresh start somewhere far from here. Somewhere Sarod and his threats can't reach us.

Fear and excitement war in my chest. It's dangerous, so dangerous. If I'm caught... I shudder, remembering Sarod's words. His promise of death if I cross him again.

But the alternative – staying here, trapped and powerless – is unbearable. I have to try. For Mom. For myself.

I dip the brush back into the bucket, my movements slow and deliberate as I continue to clean. On the surface, I'm the perfect picture of a diligent servant. Inside, my mind whirs with possibilities, mapping out escape routes and contingency plans.

One way or another, I'm getting out of here. And when I do, Mom and I will have the life we've always dreamed of. No more scraping by, no more living in fear. We'll be free.

A small smile tugs at my lips as I work. For the first time in weeks, I feel a flicker of hope. It's risky, it's terrifying, but it's possible. And that's enough to keep me going.

7

SAROD

Islam my fist into the practice dummy, feeling the satisfying crunch of impact. Sweat drips down my face as I unleash a flurry of punches on this practice dummy, my green skin glistening in the sunlight. The upcoming zyrphix match looms large, and I need to be at my best. My muscles burn with each hit, but I push through the pain. This is what it takes to be a champion.

But fuck, I can't focus. My eyes keep drifting to Josie as she works in the garden. Her small frame bends as she pulls weeds, brown hair falling in her face. I growl and hit the dummy harder, trying to channel my frustration into my training. Why can't I get her out of my head? She's just a human, for fuck's sake.

"Harry!" I bark, my tusks gleaming as I bare my teeth in annoyance. "Get over here with my towel!" I need a break, need to clear my head. Maybe if I can't see her, I can finally concentrate on what really matters - winning this damn match and proving I'm still the best zyrphix player in the league. Fuck, I can't let some human girl mess with my focus like this. It's unlike me.