"Are you ready for this?" I asked, though I was asking myself as much as him.
I glanced at Ruka—my mate, fierce and loyal, who would burn the world down for our people—for me—if he had to.
"I am ready," he said. "Let us face this enemy together."
I pushed through the automatic doors like a warrior entering battle, and Ruka matched my stride. The waiting room fell silent, human eyes tracking us with that familiar mixture of fear and fascination. Good. Let them remember this moment—a human who refused to bow to their prejudice and the Orc male she loved.
"Jordan!"
Tammy emerged from the ER, her scrubs wrinkled from a long shift. She pulled me into a brief embrace before stepping back, her gaze bouncing between me and Ruka with barely concealed curiosity.
"What are you doing here?" Her smile was uncertain. "Please tell me you're coming back to work."
"Not in this lifetime," I said, and something in my tone made her smile falter. "But we need to talk to everyone. All of you. Now."
Tammy glanced over her shoulder at the nurses’ station, then leaned in closer. "Look, I don't know what this is about, but fair warning—Nadine's been an absolute nightmare lately. Like, next-level terrible. She's been tearing into everyone overnothing. If there was a puppy around, she'd probably kick it across the room."
Ruka and I exchanged a glance. The pieces were clicking into place, forming a picture that made my jaw ache from clenching.
"I'm sure she has been," I said quietly, steel threading through my words.
I squared my shoulders and strode toward the nurses' station, my fingers finding Ruka's for one brief, electric moment—a touch that said we're in this together—before releasing. He followed in my wake, a mountain at my back. Nurses looked up from their charts and computers, conversations dying mid-sentence.
"I need everyone's attention." My voice cut through the ambient noise of the ER—the beeping monitors, the distant sirens, the murmur of worried families. "This is important."
More staff materialized from exam rooms and supply closets, drawn by the gravity in my tone. I counted them as they gathered—six, seven, eight. Tammy positioned herself closest to us, worry creasing her forehead.
"Do any of you remember those donation boxes Nadine organized a few weeks back?" I asked, my gaze sweeping across each face like a searchlight. "The ones filled with blankets and supplies?"
Heads nodded. Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group. A young nurse with copper-red hair—Allie—spoke up first. "Yeah, I remember. She was super specific about which blankets to use. Said they were old inventory that needed clearing out."
"I must have packed a dozen of those boxes," added an older nurse—Trina—whose salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back in a severe bun. "Gave up my entire lunch break for it."
My hands curled into fists at my sides. I could feel the tension radiating through me as I prepared to detonate the bomb. "Those supplies were contaminated. The blankets deliberately infected the blankets with smallpox before you packeed them. And those boxes? They weren't going to local medical clinics." My voice rose, carrying to every corner of the emergency department. "They were sent to the Orc village."
The silence was a living thing, suffocating and absolute. I watched the blood drain from faces, watched as disbelief morphed into understanding and horror.
"What?" Tammy breathed, her hand going to her throat. "Jordan, that's... that can't be..." Her expression shifted from shock to confusion. "We all knew about the Orcs having an outbreak of smallpox. But..." She looked around at the other nurses, who were nodding slowly. "We were told it came from something they brought up from underground. Some kind of spore or contaminated artifact from the tunnels."
My jaw tightened, and I felt a flash of bitterness cross my face. "Let me guess where you heard that," I said, my voice sharp as a blade. "Nadine?"
Tammy's face went pale. "She... yes. She said she'd heard it from someone in public health." Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh God."
Allie shook her head slowly, looking sick. "I can’t believe she’d send contaminated blankets."
"It's true," Ruka said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in the sudden quiet. "The village where those supplies were delivered—my village—became sick within days. The fever, the rash, the suffering..." He had to pause, and I could see him forcing down the rage that threatened to choke him. "Four of our people died."
Allie made a small, strangled sound. "Oh my God. Oh my God, I touched those blankets. I folded them. I—" She looked at her hands as if they were covered in blood.
"We had children sick," I continued, my voice breaking slightly. "Babies. Elders. The whole village was quarantined. People were dying, and we couldn't stop it fast enough."
"Four people?" Trina whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Four people died because we..."
"You didn't know," Ruka said firmly, though I could hear the bitterness in his words. "The guilt belongs to one person alone."
Tammy's shock transformed into something else—a dawning horror mixed with fury. "That's why she's been so on edge. She's been waiting to see if anyone would figure it out." Her voice rose. "Where is she? Where the hell is Nadine?"
As if we'd conjured her from the depths of hell itself, Nadine's voice sliced through the charged air like a scalpel through flesh.