Page 21 of Captured By the Orc

“Come on.” The words rumble from my chest as I yank her up by the hand, our fingers twined. We need to move, to get clear of the brig’s anti-beam tech.

As we sprint down the narrow corridor, the thrumming energy of combat gives way to a different kind of electricity. Lila’s close, her breaths shallow and quick. I can’t think of anything except getting her off this death trap and back on my ship and in my arms.

A fierce protectiveness grips me, tighter than the grip on my useless weapon.

The corridors of the warlord’s ship bleed red with emergency lights, throbbing like the pulse in my ears. Metal grates harshly against the soles of our boots as we dash up to the next level. My comm unit is slick in my palm, a useless lump of tech that refuses to sync with my damn ship.

“Garoth!” Lila’s breathless voice splinters the tension, but it’s too late.

I whirl just in time to see a mountain of muscle and malice, the warlord leader as his hand snaking out to grasp her delicate throat. He hoists her into the air, her legs kicking futilely, her braid undone and whipping like a flag of defiance.

“Drop your weapons,” he growls, “or she dies now.”

My blasters clatter to the deck. My hands ball into fists, knuckles itching for the taste of his flesh. The smile I flash is all teeth, no humor. “Let her go or die.”

His laughter booms through the hallway, bouncing off the walls, mocking us both. It’s the sound of inevitability; it scrapes across my insides like shrapnel, telling me this bastard will never let her live.

She’s the embodiment of everything I’ve been taught to disdain—softness, diplomacy, peace—and yet she’s carved aplace inside me, raw and indelible. There’s no walking away from this, not when every instinct screams to protect, to possess, to shred anyone who dares threaten what’s mine.

Adrenaline spikes, hot and wild, as I launch myself at him. We collide with the force of colliding stars, and I feel her slip from his grasp. My fists are relentless, each blow is a promise, a vow etched in pain and fury.

“Garoth, stop!”

Her voice cuts through the haze, but I can’t, I won’t—not until?—

Hands tug at me, insistent, pulling me from his bloody face. I’m panting, half-mad with the need to obliterate, to annihilate. But it’s her. Lila.

And I would do whatever she wants if it makes her happy.

She gestures to the space behind her, where dozens of armed Kylorians have materialized like specters from the shadows, weapons trained on the remaining warlords.

Her arms wrap around me in an embrace that feels like a solar flare igniting my chest. “You did it,” she whispers, her breath hot against my neck. Every muscle in my body, coiled tight with aggression, begins to uncoil at her touch and the knowledge that she’s safe.

“By winning against their leader, the remaining warlords are bound to your will,” she says, pulling back just enough to look up at me, pride mingling with the moisture in her eyes. It’s a strange feeling, having someone look at you like you’ve hung the damn moons.

The warlords, those monstrous bastards who would see the galaxy burn for a drop of power, are kneeling before me—heads bowed, defeat etched into the lines of their armored bodies.

“Take him,” I command the Kylorians, nodding toward the crumpled figure of their leader. “Lock him away, and make sure he never sees the light of a star again.”

My gaze sweeps over the humbled warriors. “The rest of you, find something worth your strength. Honest work.” The words feel foreign on my tongue, but they’re right. This isn’t just about survival—it’s about rebuilding.

“Help rebuild Kylor,” Lila suggests, her tone steady and filled with the conviction that always seems to surround her like an aura. “From the last war.”

“Agreed,” I say, because her ideas are the kind that could end wars, mend planets. And because everything she stands for challenges everything I thought I was—in the best damn way possible.

As the Kylorians march the warlords away, Lila turns to me, her presence a gravity I can’t escape. There’s a pull between us, a connection that defies the vastness of space itself. It’s not the heat of battle that has my skin tingling, it’s her—close enough to touch, yet worlds apart from everything I’ve known.

“Let’s get out of here,” I growl, the words laced with a promise of something more.

“Lead the way,” she replies with a wink.

As we move through the once-hostile corridors, the ship around us falls silent, yielding to the possibility of what lies ahead. I think of Lila—her strength, her resilience, the fire in her soul that burns so brightly it could eclipse the stars.

“Garoth,” a Kylorian officer says. He dips his head in respect to both of us, his eyes lingering on Lila. “Diplomat Lila, the president requests your presence. The counsel awaits.”

Lila’s about to speak, probably to accept the summons with the grace she handles everything else when I snag her wrist. I yank her toward me, a little rougher than intended, fueled by the need to claim this moment for us. “Tell them she’s got a more pressing meeting and we’re not sure when she’ll return.”

I can’t help but grin, feeling a bolt of anticipation zip through my veins. It’s all I give her before I thumb the tractor beam at my side, the device humming to life.

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