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I didn’t respond as I reached the landing. Hopefully, they would get my passive-aggressive memo that I wasn’t hungry and all I wanted from them this morning was for them to leave me the hell alone.
My entire body was buzzing. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry or scream. Or punch a wall. I had never been a quick to anger type of person growing up. In my family, we didn’t really show emotion. We were the “bury it deep inside and forget about it” type of folk. But right now, I wanted to strangle somebody.
At least I understood Ansel a little more and why it was so important for him to get to Gregor. But that didn’t mean I needed to give up an entire year of my life—maybe even longer—for this. Liam and Demie may have sworn their allegiance to Ansel, but I had made no such promise. And it wasn’t fair to keep me here while they fought this losing battle.
It broke my heart to learn about his parents, and if there was something I could do to help I would, but I’m just a fae who works in tech. I’ve never even held a gun before. Like Ansel pointed out so kindly last night, I would only make the work harder for them.
All I could do now was continue with my first plan of escaping through the window since Liam could no longer be trusted. I should be working on the window now, but my hands were so shaky, I worried I’d drop the screwdriver into the alley below.
So, to get rid of this buzzy feeling under my skin, I shadow-boxed in the center of the room until my biceps were aching. Even when I was tired and covered in sweat, I continued to punch the air, imagining my fists were connecting with Liam’s face. Breaking his perfectly shaped, aristocratic nose.
Got to stay fit,I reminded myself, when the burning in my lungs was almost too much to tolerate.Carter might be proposing soon. Gotta make sure you still fit in that wedding dress gathering dust in your closet.
Chapter fourteen
Iwasabletoget some work done in the afternoon. Even though my arms and shoulders were sore from my shadow-boxing rage session, I dug deep and found some extra energy to work on the next screw. But I was only able to twist it a few inches from the wall before I threw in the towel. My arms were going to fall off if I kept going. Halfway removed was better than nothing.
The screws were fat, thick suckers, rusted over from years of being rained and snowed on, and I had to throw in all my weight with each rotation of the screwdriver. Removing the next four was going to be hell, but if I focused all my time and energy on this (what else was I going to do?), I could be home before the next weekend rolled around. Just in time to watch Fantasy Boyfriend Island with Carter, our old favorite trashy reality TV show we watched religiously every Sunday night when we were dating.
Hey, maybe you’ll grow a nice set of shoulders like Ansel,I thought, giggling at the ridiculous idea that I could even come close to the mountain range that he carried on top of his back. Hopefully I ended up with toned arms by the end of this because my body was definitely sore enough. There had to be some muscle breakdown and rebuilding going on because as I showered, I couldn’t reach up and grab the shampoo or conditioner without wincing.
I was trying to stay positive.Hey, you may be someone’s prisoner right now, but at least you’ll have nice shoulders by the end of it.I couldn’t afford to think any other way because everything else was so fucking bleak. I was constantly teetering on the line of a mental breakdown and unfortunately for me, I didn’t have any emergency Xanax to help me through this. And I could only handle so much shadowboxing in a day before my arms stopped working.
I ran a comb through my hair and changed into a clean matching sweatshirt and tapered sweatpants. It was getting close to dinner time and my tray would be coming soon. I considered taking Demie up on his offer to eat downstairs just to piss Liam off but decided against it. The fact that I wasn’t home right now, in my own clothes and in my own bed, was still too upsetting to think about without wanting to rage out or scream-cry. As much as I wanted to antagonize the elf, I just wanted to be alone tonight.
I waited on the bed, thumbing through one of the magazines Ansel had left me. I still had a while before he returned home and that made me . . . a little sad.
Why? Do you miss him?A little voice sneered in my head.
No. Definitely not. Why would I miss him? Luckily, I didn’t have to explore that thought thread for very long. The door opened then, and Ansel walked in, balancing a tray on his arm containing two seperate plates of food.
“You’re back early.” I said, closing the magazine. “Was work slow today? All the drug dealers taking a day off? I wonder if they’ve unionized, and this is their mandatory mental health day.” The corners of my mouth lifted into a stupid smile.Stop. You’re just excited he brought you food.
He smirked, setting the tray on the dresser. “Something like that,” he said. He grabbed the two plates and carried mine to me on the bed. He handed me mine before sitting next to me with a relaxed sigh.
I studied the food. It was either a giant pastry or a mini calzone. Either sounded great to me, I just didn’t want to be biting into something savory expecting it to be sweet and vice versa. There was no fork or knife, so I couldn’t cut into it to find out what was inside. “What is this?”
“A meat pie,” he said.
“Oh. Did you make it?”
He bit into his food and chewed a couple bites. “Aye, it’s my ma’s recipe. The crust is store bought. She would have considered it a sin to use store-bought dough, but I don’t have enough baking tools downstairs to make it from scratch. It’s a delicacy from where I’m from, though the only difference is we cook the meat inside. In the homeland, we eat it raw.”
I frowned down at the pastry. I had heard orcs liked to eat raw meat, but I had forgotten about that fun little fact until now. I took a bite and moaned; it was soft yet flaky, the crust was buttery, and the meat and vegetables inside had a wonderful blend of herbs and spices. “So, you weren’t born in Baltimore?” I had heard a slight accent that I noticed only showed up late at night when he was really tired.
He chewed, swallowed, and then nodded. “I was born in an orc settlement just outside of Scotland. It’s small but it’s considered its own sovereign country. We call it the homeland because there is no English translation for the word, only Orcish. My parents and I moved here when I was thirteen.”
“Why did your parents immigrate to America?”
He dusted the flakes off his fingers and angled his chin towards me, giving me a questioning stare. “I didn’t know we were playing our questions game again. If that’s the case, it’s my turn, lass.”
I twisted my mouth, trying to hide my smile. “We’re not,” I insisted. “I am just trying to learn more about the strange orc I’ve been sharing a room with. I’m a little curious, that’s all.”
He didn’t argue any further. “The homeland is clan-based and very territorial. The title of clan leader is given to the strongest male orc in the group, but there is a period after he has been chosen where all the orcs can challenge him for that position. Like the game king-of-the-hill, but there is nothing fun about this. Just blood, violence, and unnecessary death. Growing up, our clan leaders grew more and more greedy with their positions and started murdering any male orcs above the age of fourteen—the age of adulthood in my culture—so no one would challenge their position. My parents and I moved just a few weeks shy of my fourteenth birthday. They sacrificed the comforts of their world so I would be protected.” He paused for a moment, staring into the distance with his brows pushed together. Finally, he shook his head softly. “They didn’t even speak English at the time. I would come home from school every day and teach them the lessons I had learned. We learned English together.” He let out a long sigh. “They moved here so I would be safe. If only they had known they were exchanging one type of violence for a different kind.”
I brushed the crumbs off my hands and set my plate down next to me. I wanted to tell him Demie had told me about his parents, and that I was sorry. I couldn’t imagine losing both my parents in such a violent way, but I could tell his wound was still raw and gaping. If he wanted to tell me, he would. So, I played it safe and asked, “So, I have a question, and please don’t take offense to this. I’m sure you know exactly what you’re doing as the—” I waved my hands in the air— “the boss of this operation. I’m only asking because I’m genuinely curious, but why don’t you let Demie and Liam help with your mission of taking Gregor down?”
“They help,” he said, and I had to stifle a laugh. Demie watches TV all day while Liam takes out his frustration on the dumbbells and bench press. Unless they do stuff at night I don’t see; they are most certainly not helping. If they were, I don’t think they would have thrown me to the wolves at the club. Ansel sighed as if he could hear theuh-huhvoice in my head. “They are in charge of planning, weaponry, and explosives. Everything except the physical part of the job. But since we haven’t had any good leads in a while, they haven’t had anything to do.”
