But the second I saw that developer threatening her livelihood, threatening the bakery she built with her own hands, every rational thought evaporated. All I could see was a threat to my mate. All I could feel was the primal, bone-deep need to destroy anything that dared hurt her.
I didn't think about what she wanted. I didn't ask what she needed. I just acted.
And I lost her.
The realization sits like a stone in my gut, heavy and immovable.
I push myself off the stool and walk out of the freezer, locking it behind me. The shop feels cavernous and empty. I move through the familiar space on autopilot, cleaning the counters, wrapping the remaining cuts, prepping the display cases for tomorrow.
Except there won't be a tomorrow. Not the way there was before.
I won't hear her yelling at me through the thin wall. I won't find her stomping into my shop with flour in her hair and murder in her eyes. I won't get to watch her cheeks flush pink when I say something that flusters her, or feel her small hands gripping my shoulders when I lift her onto the counter.
I finish closing up the shop and climb the narrow stairs to my apartment above the butchery. The space is sparse—a bed, a kitchen I barely use, a single worn armchair by the window that overlooks the alley.
I sink into the chair and stare down at the narrow strip of pavement between our buildings. Her kitchen window is dark.She's probably upstairs in her own apartment, trying to forget I exist.
I deserve that.
The first daywithout her stretches endlessly.
I open the shop at dawn out of habit, going through the motions of breaking down a side of beef with mechanical precision. The bone saw's familiar shriek echoes through the empty space, and I wait for the inevitable bang of Quinn storming through my back door to yell at me.
It doesn't come.
The silence is worse than any amount of her yelling ever was.
I serve customers with half my attention, answering questions about cuts and cooking times while my mind circles the same agonizing loop. She was right. I steamrolled her. I treated her like territory to defend instead of a partner to support.
In Orc culture, there's no distinction between the two. Protecting your mate is supporting them. Eliminating threats is showing love.
But Quinn's human. And humans need something different. Something I clearly don't understand.
By midday, I abandon the shop entirely, flipping the sign to "Closed" and retreating upstairs. I drop into the armchair by the window and stare at the alley below, my chest aching with a hollowness I've never experienced before.
This is worse than any physical wound. This is worse than the broken ribs I got in the fighting pits back home, worse than the deep knife gash across my shoulder from a bar fight in my twenties. Those healed. Those left scars I could wear with pride.
This just hurts.
I stay in the chair as the sun arcs across the sky, watching the shadows shift across the alley. Quinn's back door stays firmly shut. No pink apron. No furious stomping. No her.
When darkness finally falls, I eat cold meat straight from the fridge, tasteless and impossible to swallow. I choke it down anyway and return to the window.
Her apartment light is on now. I can see the faint glow through the curtains.
She's so close. Just across the alley. A thirty-second walk.
She might as well be on another planet.
The second day is worse.
I don't bother opening the shop. I sit in the chair by the window and stare at her building like a pathetic, lovesick fool. Every time her back door opens, my heart lurches, but it's never her. Just deliveries. Just the trash pickup.
I keep replaying the freezer scene in my mind, analyzing every word, every choice, trying to pinpoint the exact moment I destroyed everything.
It wasn't just dragging the developer into the freezer. That was the final straw, but I'd been building toward it from the beginning. Every time I loomed over someone who annoyed her. Every time I brought her meat she didn't ask for. Every time I made a decision for her instead of with her.
I thought I was courting her the right way. I thought providing and protecting would prove I was worthy.
