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Koda holds me through it all, his strong arms a shelter from the storm raging both outside and within me. And as the first rays of sunlight begin to filter through the grimy garage windows, I feel a glimmer of hope.

Ten

Koda

The soft murmur of Pamela's voice fills the small room, her words in a language I don't understand but find strangely soothing. I watch her from my position by the door, marveling at the peace that seems to settle over her as she prays.

We've been at Lou's garage for two days now, lying low and trying to plan our next move. The constant vigilance, the knowledge that danger could find us at any moment. It's wearing on both of us. But Pamela? She's holding up better than I ever could have expected.

Her eyes are closed, a small wooden cross clutched in her hands. I recognize it as the one she always wears around her neck. When she finishes her prayer, she opens her eyes and gives me a small smile. "Sorry," she says. "I hope I wasn't disturbing you."

I shake my head, moving closer to sit on the edge of the cot next to her. "Not at all. It seemed important to you."

Pamela nods, her fingers tracing the outline of the cross. "It is. My faith. It's always been a source of strength for me. Especially now."

I grunt in acknowledgment, unsure what to say. Religion has never been a big part of my life. The orc clans I grew up with had their own beliefs, sure, but nothing like this.

"What were you saying?" I ask, genuinely curious. "It didn't sound like any language I know."

A soft laugh escapes her. "It was Vietnamese. A prayer my grandmother taught me." She hesitates for a moment, then asks, "Would you like me to teach you?"

The offer catches me off guard. Me, praying? The thought is almost laughable. But the hopeful look in Pamela's eyes makes me reconsider.

"Sure," I say gruffly. "Why not?"

Her face lights up, and something in my chest tightens at the sight. She scoots closer to me on the cot, her small frame dwarfed by my bulk.

"Okay," she begins, her voice taking on a teacherly tone that I find oddly endearing. "Repeat after me: L?y Cha chúng con ? trên tr?i."

I stumble through the unfamiliar words, my gruff voice mangling the delicate sounds. Pamela giggles, the sound like music in this dingy room.

"Not bad for a first try," she encourages. "It meansOur Father, who art in heaven. It's the beginning of the Lord's Prayer."

We continue like this for a while, Pamela patiently teaching me the words, explaining their meaning. I'm not sure I believe in any of it, but I can see how much it means to her. How it grounds her, gives her strength.

As we finish the prayer, Pamela looks up at me, her eyes shining. "Thank you, Koda," she whispers. "For indulging me in this. I know it's probably not your thing."

I shrug, suddenly uncomfortable with the gratitude in her gaze. "If it helps you, it's worth doing."

She reaches out, her small hand resting on my much larger one. The touch sends a jolt through me, a reminder of the growing connection between us.

"It does help," she says. "But you know what helps even more? Knowing you're here. Knowing you'll protect me."

The faith in her voice humbles me. I turn my hand over, engulfing hers in my grip. "Always," I promise gruffly. "No matter what."

Pamela leans into me then, her head resting against my chest. Without thinking, I wrap my arm around her, marveling at how perfectly she fits against me.

We sit like that for a long moment, the silence comfortable between us. I can feel Pamela's heartbeat, her warmth seeping into me. It's a moment of peace in the chaos our lives have become, and I find myself wishing it could last forever.

"Koda?" Pamela's voice is soft, almost hesitant.

"Hmm?"

She pulls back slightly, looking up at me. There's something in her eyes, something that makes my breath catch.

" I think I'm falling in love with you," she whispers.

The words hit me like a physical blow. Love? Me? I'm a mercenary, an orc, a creature of violence. How could someone like Pamela, so full of light and faith, love someone like me?