Page 20 of Bound to the Alien Orc (Alien Gambits #1)

Chapter 20

F ear grips me like a vise, squeezing the air from my lungs as Claws presses closer, his rough hand sliding up my leg. His touch is like sandpaper, abrasive and unwanted, sending shivers of revulsion down my spine.

My mind races, desperate to find a way out of this nightmare. I push against him with all my strength, but it’s like trying to move a mountain. His grip is firm, his body an immovable wall pinning me against the cold, unyielding metal of the door.

“Get off me!” I shout, my voice raw and filled with panic.

But he just laughs, a cruel, mocking sound that echoes in the confined space. His hand moves higher, his fingers digging into my flesh, bruising and possessive.

I squirm, twisting and writhing, desperate to escape his grasp. But it’s useless. He holds me effortlessly, his strength far surpassing my own. I glance around the room, my eyes wild, searching for anything that could help me. But there’s nothing.

“Let go of me, you bastard!” I scream, the words tearing from my throat in a desperate plea. I lash out, trying to kick him, but he slams my head against the door, stars exploding behind my eyes. Pain lances through my skull, dazing me for a moment.

He laughs again. The stench of his breath, hot and rancid, fills my nostrils as he leans in, his tusks pressing against my cheek.

“Scream all you want. No one cares about you here, Fresh Meat.”

His hand moves under my shirt, his cold, clammy fingers caressing my skin, leaving trails of revulsion in their wake. Bile rises in my throat, and I clench my teeth, fighting the urge to vomit.

Suddenly, the door behind me opens, and I stumble backward, off balance. Claws tries to grab me, but I duck under his arm, putting distance between us. My heart pounds in my chest, adrenaline surging through my veins as I whirl to face my savior.

“What the void is going on in here?” Throk roars, his face a thunderous mask of fury. His eyes blaze with anger, his fists clenched at his sides.

“N-nothing,” Claws stammers, backing away, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “I was just showing the prisoner to the machines.”

Throk glares at him, his eyes narrowing to slits. He takes a step forward, his massive frame radiating menace. “Then why was she screaming? What did you do, Korg?”

Claws swallows nervously, his gaze darting around the room like a cornered animal. “N-nothing.”

Throk lets out a low growl, a sound of unadulterated rage. His fist lashes out, connecting with Claws’ face with a sickening crunch. The guard staggers backward, blood spurting from his shattered nose.

“Liar!” Throk snarls, towering over the fallen guard. “I’m not going to let you get away with this, Korg. You’re a disgrace.”

Claws scrambles to his feet, his hand clutching his bloodied face. “You can’t do anything,” he spits, his voice nasal and thick. “It’s my word against hers. And everyone knows she’s just human scum.”

Throk grabs him by the front of his shirt, hauling him up until they’re tusk to tusk. His claws dig into the fabric, shredding it like paper.

“I am the Foreman of this mine,” he growls, each word laden with deadly intent. “And if you ever question me again, I will make sure you rot in the deepest, darkest pit I can find. Now, get out of my sight.”

Claws hesitates, his eyes wide with fear. Then, with a final, venomous glare in my direction, he wrenches himself free of Throk’s grasp and storms off, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Throk turns to me, his expression softening. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

I shake my head, tears welling in my eyes, blurring my vision. “No, I’m okay,” I manage, my voice trembling. “Thanks for stepping in. I was worried he was going to...”

Throk nods, his jaw tight. He opens the door, gesturing for me to follow. “Come, I’ll bring you to the machine room.”

I nod, my legs shaky as I follow him out of the room. “Thanks,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow hard, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill down my cheeks.

We walk in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the echo of our footsteps on the cold, hard floor. Each step is an effort, my body heavy with the weight of what just happened. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold myself together, to keep the pieces of my shattered composure from crumbling completely.

As we approach the room from the day before, I can’t shake the feeling that this is just the beginning. That the horrors of this mine will test me in ways I never imagined. The thought sends a tremor through me, and I hug myself tighter.

I don’t know if I’m going to survive in this world. But one thing is certain — I won’t let them break me. I’ll fight with every ounce of strength I have. Because giving up is not an option.

Not now, not ever.

Throk guides me into the equipment room, his presence a reassuring bulwark against the lingering horror of Claws’ attack. I step inside, my eyes adjusting to the weak light, taking in the rows of machinery and tools lining the walls.

“I have to get back to work,” Throk says, his voice gruff but not unkind. “Will you be alright here on your own?”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The idea of being alone, even in this room, sends a flutter of unease through me. But I know Throk has duties to attend to, and I can’t expect him to babysit me all day.

“I’ll be fine,” I manage, my voice steadier than I feel. “Just... could you lock the door? I don’t want any more surprises.”

Throk’s eyes soften with understanding. “Of course.” He steps out, pulling the door shut behind him. The sound of the key turning in the lock is both a comfort and a reminder of my confinement.

I stand there for a moment, just breathing, trying to calm the racing of my heart. The adrenaline starts to fade, leaving me shaky and exhausted. But I can’t afford to fall apart. Not now, not definitely not here.

My thoughts drift to Droilin, and a pang of longing hits me. I wish he were here, his powerful presence a shield against the dangers of this place. I can almost feel his arms around me, his voice a low rumble of reassurance in my ear.

But Droilin isn’t here, and I’m on my own. The thought is both terrifying and empowering. I’ve always relied on myself, on my own wits and skills. And that’s what I’ll have to do now.

I force myself to move, to focus on something else. I survey the room, taking stock of the equipment, the tools, the potential. If I’m going to survive Morcrest, I need to make myself indispensable. And that starts with doing what I do best — fixing things.

My gaze lands on a machine in the corner, its panel hanging open, wires spilling out like entrails. I approach it, my mind already whirring with possibilities. It looks like a compressor of some sort, similar to the ones I worked on back at the space station.

Time slips away as I work, the outside world fading into the background. For a little while, I can almost forget where I am, what happened. Almost.

I’m just finishing up, the compressor humming to life under my hands, when a loud bang at the door startles me back to reality. My heart leaps into my throat, and for a moment, I’m back in that room with Claws, his hands on me, his breath hot against my skin.

The silence that follows the bang is almost deafening. I strain my ears, listening for any sign of who might be on the other side of the door. Slowly, I wipe my hands on my pants and cross to the door, unlocking it with trembling fingers.

“Time’s up, Fresh Meat!” a gruff voice bellows as the door to the machine room bursts open.

Burly’s eyes narrow into slits as he scans the room, his gaze piercing and accusatory. “Where’s Korg?” he demands, his voice cold and sharp.

I swallow hard, trying to keep my composure. “Throk had a word with him,” I reply, my voice sounding small and strained even to my own ears. “He left a while ago.”

Burly’s lips twist into a sneer, his expression filled with contempt. He takes a step closer, his bulk looming over me. “Is that so?” he growls, his breath hot against my face. “You better not be lying to me, Fresh Meat.”

I shake my head vigorously, my heart pounding in my chest. “No, no, I’m telling the truth. I swear.”

Burly’s eyes bore into mine for a long moment, as if trying to see into my very soul. Finally, he grunts, a sound that could be either satisfaction or disgust. “Alright, let’s go,” he snarls, his hand closing around my arm in a bruising grip as he yanks me forward.

“Please, I’m making progress here. Just a little more time?”

But Burly is already shaking his head. “Rules are rules, Fresh Meat. Now move.”

Resigned, I follow him out into the bitter cold of the Morcrest night. The icy wind bites at my exposed skin, and I hunch my shoulders, trying to conserve what little warmth I have.

To my surprise, there’s no landcrawler waiting for us. Just an endless expanse of snow and darkness.

“Where are we going?” I ask, a shiver running through me that has nothing to do with the cold.

Burly smirks. “We’ll be escorting you back. On foot.”

I groan, realizing I have no choice but to trek through the frozen wasteland. Burly falls into step beside me, his presence a constant reminder of my captivity.

We walk in silence, the crunch of snow beneath our feet the only sound. I to stay alert for any opportunity to escape, but my mind keeps drifting to Droilin. His absence feels like a physical ache, a coldness that seeps into my bones and leaves me feeling more vulnerable than ever.

“Keep moving, Fresh Meat,” Burly snaps, shoving me forward.

I stumble, nearly losing my footing on the icy ground. Gritting my teeth, I press on, refusing to show any weakness.

After what feels like an eternity, the first buildings of Frosthok come into view. But instead of relief, a sense of unease settles in my gut. We’re nowhere near my cell.

“Almost there,” Burly says, his tone mocking.

We wind through the streets, the cold air burning my lungs with each breath. Finally, we stop in front of a nondescript building.

“This is your stop, Fresh Meat.”

Confusion furrows my brow. “This isn’t my cell.”

“No, it’s not.” Burly lets out a sharp whistle, and two figures emerge from the shadows.

Orcs, clad in red hoods and combat boots, armed to the teeth. Fear coils in my stomach. I don’t recognize their uniforms. I turn to run, but Burly’s iron grip stops me.

“What is this?” I demand, struggling against his hold.

Burly ignores me, turning to the smaller of the two hooded orcs. “She’s all yours. Make it look good.”

The orc nods, and Burly’s grip on my arm tightens painfully. Panic rises in my throat as he drags me forward.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice trembling.

No one answers. Instead, the largest orc, a brute with a milky white eye, turns to Burly, who is still holding me.

“Let me do it. Hold her steady,” he growls.

Before I can react, his fist slams into Burly’s jaw with a sickening crunch. He crumples to the ground, unconscious.

The smaller orc, Smalls, backs away, his hands raised. “What the void, Krehok? We had a deal!”

Krehok laughs, a cold, cruel sound. “Deal’s off. The human’s worth more on the black market.”

My blood runs cold. The black market? They’re going to sell me?

Smalls lunges at Krehok, but the brute sidesteps easily. His fist connects with Smalls’ stomach, doubling him over. Smalls’ staggers back, then turns and flees into the night.

Krehok turns to me, a predatory gleam in his eye. “Looks like it’s just you and us now, human.”

I try to wrench my arm free, but the orc’s grip is unyielding. “Let me go!”

“Not a chance,” Krehok sneers. “Females fetch a high price. Even damaged goods like you’ll be.”

Fear turns to anger, and I spit in his face. “I’m not property, you bastard!”

Krehok’s face twists with rage. His fist slams into my cheek, sending me to the ground. Pain explodes through my skull, stars dancing in my vision.

I try to stand, but Krehok’s boot presses down on my chest, pinning me to the frozen earth. “You’ll pay for that, bitch.”

He reaches down, his hand wrapping around my throat, squeezing. I claw at his fingers, but it’s useless. The world starts to fade, darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision.

Is this how it ends? Sold into slavery, just another victim of this cruel, unforgiving galaxy?

The distant rumble of an engine pierces the haze of pain. Krehok looks up, alarmed, as a landcrawler speeds towards us.

A figure leaps from the vehicle before it even stops. A voice I never thought I’d hear again roars through the night.

“STOP!”

Droilin. He came for me.

Krehok’s grip on my throat tightens. “Stay back! The human’s mine!”

“Tasha, hold on!” Droilin’s voice is desperate, pleading.

But the darkness is closing in, the world fading away.

“TASHA!”

And then nothing.