Page 85 of Wrangling the Orc Cowboy

“Go,” Sharga squawked.

Dad lifted his hand and approached us, though he stayed well away from Sharga. “Gracie, let’s be rational. You’ve had your fun. It’s time to go back to the real world.”

“This is my life now,” I snapped. “You don’t get to decide anything for me any longer.”

Mom tsked, crossing her arms on her chest. “Do you actually think you can play farmhand for a bunch of orcs? Where your biggest accomplishment is how many likes your latest post gets? Surely this won’t sustain you forever.”

“It’s perfect for me,” I said, my voice getting stronger by the second. “I’m good at it. And it’s mine. I built this career. Unlike the one you forced on me without ever once asking if it was what I wanted.”

Dad rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We won’t allow you to throw away everything we worked for.”

“Youworked for,” I said. “You signed the contracts, you controlled everything I wore, ate, and said. That was never my life, it was yours. I don’t want it anymore.”

Mom let out a sigh. “Well, that’s unfortunate. Because the world’s already watching, sweetheart.” Her sharp gaze landed on Tark standing by my side. “And him? Oh, our investigator had a lot to say about him, didn’t she?”

Something about the way she said it chilled me. “Investigator? You actually hired someone to snoop on me?”

She shrugged. “We needed to know what we were dealing with here. Tark, Tark, Tark. That's your name, right? Deleting things never erases them completely. Screenshots are forever and when someone's willing to pay, anything can be dug up on a person who, how can I say this? Who has aninterestingpast.”

Tark stiffened beside me while ice slid through my veins.

I took a step toward her, but she was already reaching into her bag, tugging out her pristine, ever-present designer covered phone. One tap. Two. And then?—

My breath stuttered as I heard it. My stomach dropped. The slow, rumbling start of Tark's voice echoed in my ears.

“The land stretches before us…”

“Allow me to read some of the comments. There are so many.” Mom cackled.

How dare she mock the male I loved.

“Wiiiide as the heaaaart can see,” Mom crooned, her voice painfully nasal.

Dad chuckled and deepened his tone as he leaned close to the screen, reading. “A skyyyy so loooonely it cries for companyyyy.”

Tears burned the back of my eyes. Tark didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.

I glanced up at him.

The male I adored stood still as a pillar, and I knew he was fortifying himself against an oncoming storm. I could see it, every awful feeling these words awakened inside him. Every insecurity rising through the cracks. “I wrote a poem and…” He wouldn't meet my gaze. “I recited it. I thought that maybe someone would like it. I should’ve told you. I’m sorry.”

Mom sneered and read from her phone. “Is he auditioning for some bad Orc-Western crossover? Yikes.” Her smirk rose higher. “Imagine thinking sunsets can save this level of awkward. Hashtag SecondhandEmbarrassment.” The chuckle she released raked down my spine. “Here's another one. 'Who lethim post? No, seriously. Who?'“ Her gaze met mine. “Sweetie, really. Who is this male you've hooked up with? We'll get you counseling. Help you through this. You'll soon see we were right all along.”

Hell, no.

A rage like I’d never known roared to life inside me.

“Shut. Up,” I snapped.

Mom blinked, startled by the sheer violence in my tone. She recovered quickly, smirking. “Oh, come on. Even you have to admit how embarrassing it?—”

“You don’t get to laugh at him. Not now. Not ever.”

Dad raised an eyebrow. “Gracie, let’s not be dramatic.”

“And you don’t get to talk about drama. It's so entrenched in both of you it seeps from your pores.”

Their faces hardened, my mother’s lips pressing into a thin line, my father’s gaze darkening with the kind of barely restrained anger I recognized too well. But I didn’t shrink back this time. I wasn’t the girl they could dismiss or manipulate anymore.

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