Page 3 of Resisting the Wicked Orc

Lydia whirled back, her sleek ponytail slicing through the air. “That’s coming out of your pay, Rava. I took a chance hiring someone with your qualities. If you can’t keep your shit together around the merchandise, don’t bother coming back.”

The threat hung between us. My cover depended on this job, on staying close to Lydia and her shady dealings. Three weeks of careful observation, cultivating her trust, learning her patterns—all of it would be wasted if she fired me now. I couldn’t go back to Kaz empty-handed, not when I’d finally found a solid lead.

I swallowed my pride and nodded, ignoring the way my tail wanted to lash behind me. “It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.” She turned away, muttering about insurance and liability.

The rest of the day crawled by. I smiled at customers, wrapped purchases, and picked over Lydia’s phone conversation in my mind. Francis. Harrington pieces. Authentication. Fire marks. Each word a potential link to the missing ifrit relics, while my skin still tingled with the lingering heat of my magic’s betrayal.

By closing time, my nerves were shot to hell. Lydia had checked her watch every fifteen minutes since five o’clock, her impatience growing with each glance. Customers had thinned out, leaving only stragglers picking through the dregs of what the market had to offer. I’d started breaking down the displays, carefully wrapping the more delicate pieces in tissue paper.

“Leave it.” Lydia’s voice cut through my concentration. “I need someone with actual competence to handle the breakdown tonight.”

My tail twitched. I gripped the edge of the folding table, willing the heat in my palms to stay dormant. “I can finish?—”

“You’ve done enough.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Go home. We’ll discuss your future with Vintage Baby on Monday.”

I nodded, not pushing my luck after the scarf incident. The abrupt dismissal was unusual—not because Lydia had any capability for kindness. She typically squeezed every minute of labor from her employees, and my shift didn’t end until the merchandise was behind locked doors.

I made a show of gathering my things, shoulders slumped for the benefit of anyone watching. But once I’d disappeared into the thinning crowd, I circled back through a row of food stalls and found a spot to watch from the shadows.

Lydia moved with efficiency, packing jewelry into cases, folding scarves with crisp movements. No phone calls. No mysterious visitors. Just Lydia, acting like any other vendor hurrying to close shop.

I followed her to the parking lot, ducking behind a woodworking stall when she glanced back. She loaded everything into her black Audi, arranging the cargo with care in her trunk.

I expected her to leave then. To slide into the driver’s seat and disappear into the night with her secrets.

Instead, she reached deeper into the trunk and pulled out a small package wrapped in brown paper. She tucked it under her arm and walked back toward the now-empty market.

Jackpot.

I crept after her. The market grounds looked different without the crowds and canopies. Skeletal, almost, with just the permanent wooden stalls remaining. Lydia’s steps clicked on the cobblestones, the sound sharp in the evening quiet.

She rounded a corner near the river’s edge, where a cluster of storage sheds housed equipment for the weekly market. A tall, thin man approached from the other direction, his back stiff with the kind of posture that screamed military or money. Human, from what I could tell—no visible markers of supernatural heritage.

My heart hammered against my ribs. This had to be it. Proof that Lydia was trafficking in artifacts, ifrit or otherwise. I shifted forward, trying to get a better view of the package.

A hand clamped around my wrist, yanking me sideways. I nearly yelped in surprise before another hand covered mymouth. My back hit wood, and I found myself face-to-face with the orc from earlier.

Zral’s finger pressed against his lips. No trace of that crooked smile remained on his face now. His eyes were sharp and focused, the playful flirt replaced by something far more dangerous. He nodded toward the sheds and pointed to our left.

I followed his gesture and froze. Twenty feet away, half-hidden behind a vendor’s cart, stood another watcher—a broad-shouldered man scanning the area with practiced care.

How had I missed him? Kaz would have my hide if he knew how spectacularly I’d fucked up. I’d been so fixated on Lydia and the freedom at the end of those damn relics. Now, thanks to my single-minded focus, I was trapped between a rock-hard orc and a potentially deadly situation.

So much for proving myself.

CHAPTER TWO

ZRAL

Ididn’t think anyone said ‘no’ to me anymore.

Not since Miranda turned Osen’s world on its head, and Carissa helped Torain with his ambitions. Not since Hannah domesticated that prick Galan. Competition for a casual bit of fun had been nonexistent since they’d mated, and I’d been more than happy to reap the rewards.

The red-skinned beauty glared up at me, amber eyes blazing with fury. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone looked at me with such raw irritation.

It was almost refreshing, and definitely interesting.

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