"Close enough." He considered his next words carefully. "When Orcs mate, they join one partner's clan or forge a new one if both are leaders. Children belong to everyone—raised by the whole clan, not just their parents. My sister's mate was our clan as well, so Ardin is my responsibility as much as hers."
Understanding bloomed in my chest. "Others in your clan must have felt the same way."
From what I'd seen, at least a hundred Orcs had followed him from the deep. From tunnels carved by their ancestors' hands, from the only world they'd ever known. They'd abandoned everything—history, comfort, certainty—and climbed into the blinding light of an alien surface.
Following him.
That kind of devotion wasn't given freely. It was earned through years of sacrifice, of proving yourself worthy of such faith. My heart squeezed as I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw not just the warrior but the leader who'd inspired such unwavering loyalty.
"They must trust you," I said quietly.
"One hundred and forty-three souls." His voice carried a note of reverence. "Some were blood family to Ryhain's mate. Others had sworn to our clan, or their mates had. A few came simply because they'd dreamed of the surface since they were tusklings." Warmth crept into his tone. "We are stronger together. That is the heart of what it means to be clan."
"And the others stayed below?"
"They had their own ties. Elderly parents too frail for the journey. Mates from other clans who wouldn't leave their ownpeople. Some couldn't fathom abandoning the deep tunnels—they were born in darkness and couldn't imagine living in light." He met my eyes, and I saw the old grief there. "The split nearly broke us. But it had to be done."
The settlement seemed so peaceful, nestled here in its mountain cradle. So safe. So removed from the chaos of the world beyond. The isolation had felt like protection—a buffer between this fragile new community and the humans who might fear them.
But isolation could be a double-edged blade.
"What happened to Ardin?" The question slipped out, but I needed to know. "I know he was shot, but... how did hunters even find him? The village seems so sheltered."
Every muscle in Ruka's body went rigid. His hands curled slowly into fists, knuckles blanching beneath the sage-green of his skin. When he spoke, each word came out carefully measured, stripped of inflection—the kind of flat tone that barely leashed a storm. "He was playing in the valley near the river. Just... being a child. Exploring." A pause, heavy as stone. "My war chief studied the area. Ardin did not cross the treaty line and still they shot him."
My stomach dropped. "On purpose?"
"They saw an Orc." His lips barely moved. "For some, that is reason enough."
White-hot rage blazed through my chest, burning away everything else. "Those fucking bastards. They shot achildand just—what? Left him there to bleed out?"
"They fled when they heard him cry out. Whether from fear or indifference, I cannot say." Ruka's jaw clenched so hard I heard his teeth grind. "I was hunting nearby. I heard the shot, then Ardin's screams."
The image crashed through my mind—this massive warrior racing toward his nephew's cries, not knowing if he'darrive in time. My hands fisted in my lap hard enough to hurt. "Tell me you're going after them."
"Argon is tracking them as we speak." Something predatory flickered behind his eyes—ancient and utterly merciless. "They left a trail even a blind human could follow."
Good. I leaned forward, my voice dropping low. "And when you find them? What then?"
For one breathless moment, I saw it—the warrior beneath the chief, the capacity for savage violence that lurked in those powerful hands. The promise of retribution that would be both terrible and earned. Then he drew in a long, deliberate breath, visibly pulling himself back from whatever dark precipice he'd been standing on.
"We turn them over to the county sheriff." His eyes locked onto mine, burning with barely restrained fury. "We have laws, Jordan. We are not the monsters they believe us to be, no matter how much easier it would be to prove them right." His voice dropped to something almost dangerous. "We will do this the right way. We will show them exactly who we are."
The restraint that must have taken—the sheer force of will required to choose justice over vengeance when every instinct probably screamed for blood. I wasn't sure I could have been that measured. I wasn't sure Iwantedto be.
I studied him as he spoke—really studied him this time. The weight of leadership carved into those massive shoulders. Those hands, powerful enough to snap steel, resting with deliberate gentleness on his knees. The iron control threading through every word, every measured breath.
God, he was magnificent.
Yes, there were the obvious things. The dark sage of his skin that made me want to trace patterns across it. The broad chest straining against his tunic with each breath. The sharp cutof his jaw that could probably cut glass. My pulse kicked up just cataloging them, heat pooling low in my belly.
But it went so much deeper than surface attraction. It was the tenderness with which he'd cradled his nephew, those massive hands impossibly gentle. The respect he'd shown me from our first meeting, when contempt would have been so much easier. The way he chose the harder path—justice over the swift, savage satisfaction of vengeance.
The way his gaze settled on me like I was someone worth seeing. Worthknowing.
Heat bloomed across my cheeks, spreading down my neck. When exactly had this shift happened? When had I crossed the line from cautious stranger to... this? When had this magnetic pull settled in my chest that made it hard to breathe. This hyperawareness of his every movement, every rumble of his voice that seemed to vibrate through my bones.
I swallowed hard against the sudden, reckless impulse to close the distance between us, to discover if his skin was as warm as it looked. If those lips were as soft as they seemed.