Page 41 of Her Rugged Orcs

"You can't fix what's completely shattered."

Her words are like daggers to the chest. I take an involuntary step forward, my body moving on instinct to comfort her. But she's already turning away, putting distance between us again, and I force myself to stay still. Every muscle in my body screams to go after her, to prove her wrong, but I know that would only drive her even further away.

30

EIRA

Iwake in the darkness. My body yearns for the warmth I've denied myself. The night breeze carries their scents - Grash's earthy musk, Murok's spice, Dren's rain-kissed forest. They sleep mere feet away, yet the distance feels like leagues.

My fingers trace the edge of Dren's cloak that he draped over me earlier. The fabric still holds his warmth, and I hate how much comfort it brings. I hate how my heart leaps when Grash's eyes find mine across the fire, or how Murok's voice makes my skin tingle.

"Can't sleep?" Murok's whisper cuts through the silence. I keep my eyes fixed on the stars above.

"I'm fine." The white lie falls from my lips.

"Liar," he says, but there's no bite to it. Just sadness.

He always could see right through me. I am a liar indeed.

Grash shifts in his sleep, reaching out unconsciously to the empty space beside him where I used to lay. My heart clenches at the sight. I remember how safe I felt between them, how Grash's arms would shield me from the world, how Murok's clever fingers would trace patterns on my skin, how Dren's quiet strength anchored me.

"We miss you," Murok says softly.

I curl tighter into myself, clutching Dren's cloak. "You miss what you thought I was."

"No." Dren's voice startles me. I hadn't realized he was awake. "We miss who you are."

I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the burning sensation behind them. Their warmth, their touch, their fierce protection - it had felt real. So real that sometimes I forget it started as just a mission to them.

Grash stirs, his eyes finding mine in the darkness. The longing in his gaze mirrors the pain in my chest. "Come back to us," he rumbles.

I turn away, but I can't stop my body from trembling at the memory of their touch, their warmth, their...everything.

The stars blur as tears threaten to spill. I blink them away, refusing to show weakness. My sister. They're here because of my sister. The truth burns in me like poison, making each breath harder than the last.

"Come back to us," Grash repeats, his voice rough with emotion.

I want to laugh at the irony. Come back? I was never truly there. I was only a mission, a task to be completed. Every touch, every kiss, every moment I thought was real - it was all orchestrated. They knew exactly what they were doing when they saved me in the pits. They knew how desperate, how broken I was.

"Why haven't you told me?" The words slip out. "About my sister?"

The silence that follows is deafening. I hear Murok's sharp intake of breath, see Dren's shoulders tense, watch Grash's eyes widen in the firelight.

"How long have you known?" Murok asks carefully.

"Long enough." I wrap Dren's cloak tighter around myself, hating how much I crave its comfort. "I heard you talking. About how she sent you. About how I was just a mission."

"Eira-" Grash starts, but I cut him off.

"Don't." My voice cracks. "Don't pretend it was anything else. You found a broken slave girl and played your parts perfectly. The protector," I look at Grash, "the strategist," my eyes find Murok, "and the silent guardian." Finally, I meet Dren's silver gaze. "Was any of it real? Or was I just that easy to manipulate?"

"It became real," Dren whispers, and the raw honesty in his voice makes me flinch.

"When?" I demand. "When did it stop being a mission and start being real? When you held me while I slept? When you killed for me? When you fucked me?"

That word makes Grash growl, but I don't care. Let them feel a fraction of the pain I'm feeling.

"The mission stopped mattering the moment I saw you in those pits," Murok says softly. "Everything after that was real."

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