Page 14

Chapter

Nine

TESSA

The orc’s eyes roll up, and he falls like a log, his big body hitting the floor with a thud. His head bounces off the rotting floorboards, and I let out a yelp of alarm. I drop the board I hit him with and hurry to his side, kneeling in the dust and mice droppings.

“Oh, gods.” I shake his shoulder. “Hey. Hey! Wake up!”

He doesn’t move, and in the half-light, I notice the wound on his temple.

“No,” I groan. “Come on, wake up!”

I was aiming for his back , not his fucking head. I only wanted to incapacitate him long enough to stop him from following me, but he was too fast and shifted his entire stance mid-swing to fend off my attack.

I push on his shoulder, but he’s heavy, definitely too heavy for me to lift on my own. I picked this space because it’s hidden, and if I was being followed by Damen’s crew, it would have made the perfect hiding spot, dark and secluded, with a back exit I could escape through.

My gaze flits toward the other room, the one that leads to what used to be a kitchen, where the door to the other side of the street waits for me. This stranger surprised me, chased me, and is undoubtedly angry at me for stealing from him.

The smart thing—the only thing—to do would be to leave him here while he’s unconscious and run. I don’t know how he followed me this far, but he’s faster than I expected for his size and clearly determined to catch me.

Guilt gnaws at me as I watch the trickle of blood run down his cheek and drip slowly onto the floor. I know head wounds bleed a lot, but what if I seriously hurt him? I put a lot of force into that swing. What if he bleeds out here? Could I live with that?

In all my years living on the street and working my job, I haven’t killed anyone. I’ve hurt quite a few, mostly men who thought I was easy prey because of my gender and size, and I’ve permanently maimed one or two who deserved it.

Leaving this man here could mean signing him over to the gods.

Even if he doesn’t bleed out, it’s only a matter of time before someone else comes in here, looking for a dry place to sleep.

Some people living on the streets of Ultrup would kill him first and empty his pockets after.

Or perhaps rats would find him, drawn to the scent of his blood…

Stop thinking about rats!

I grit my teeth, trying to make my legs move, but I just can’t leave him here. There are lines I won’t cross, it seems, and this is one of them.

“Ugh, wake up, you big lump!”

I nudge his shoulder again, and he lets out a low groan, his eyelids fluttering.

I scramble back, out of his reach. Well, he’s clearly not dead. But neither is he fully awake yet.

A thought insinuates itself into my mind, one that feels mighty evil in light of what I just did to him, but he’s right here, and I need answers.

Biting my lip, I waver for a moment, weighing my options, then quickly pull the length of rope from around my waist and cut it in two.

I use the first half to tie the man’s hands behind his back and fasten the other half around his ankles.

If I could move him, I’d tie him to the wall somehow, but there’s no shifting his dead weight.

My hand hurts worse than before, so I’m not as fast as I should be, and each time the still-damp rope scrapes against the blisters, I wince, stifling a whimper.

Why am I doing this?

I keep glancing at him, because the last thing I want is to be caught unprepared. One good kick from him, and he could injure me far worse than I did him.

My work complete, I move back and survey his prone form. His breathing is even, and his eyelids flutter from time to time, but he’s still unconscious. That wound is still bleeding too, the nasty cut already swelling.

His face is smushed against the floor, and the guilt intensifies. He’s breathing in dirt—and gods only know what else. I heave a sigh, then unwrap my scarf and tuck it under his cheek. It doesn’t do much, but it makes me feel better.

What a mess.

His eyelids flutter once more, nearly opening before closing again. He’ll wake soon, I think, which is a relief. At least I haven’t accidentally killed him. Whether I’ve caused lasting harm is still uncertain, though I hope his skull is tougher than a human’s, since the rest of him certainly is.

I let myself study his figure, comparing it to mine.

When we faced off on the roof, he stood at least a head taller than me.

But it’s more than that. His shoulders are broader than any man’s I’ve ever seen, which was why he couldn’t follow me through the narrow window.

Despite his size, he’s quick and nimble enough to catch me, something I didn’t anticipate.

If he got his big hands on me…

Something squirms low in my belly at the thought. I blink, and heat rushes into my face.

If he got his hands on me, he’d break me in half, that’s what would happen. He’s angry I stole from him, so he stalked me, but I got the better of him, didn’t I? He’s the one lying on the floor, unconscious and trussed up.

My gaze falls on his face. I note the straight line of the one visible eyebrow and the tusk poking up from the right side of his mouth. It’s white and sharp, and my fingers itch with the need to touch it.

I jerk my hand back, horrified at myself. No, that’s just my injured skin twinging with pain. I don’t want to touch the man, I need answers from him.

Carefully, I reach over and shove him again. “Hey, wake up.”

I don’t have all night to spend here. I need to return home and read the pages I stole from Damen’s ledger.

They came at a high price, and I’ll be damned if I don’t make use of them.

Besides, the entire gang will be searching for the burglar who dared break into their mansion, so it would be best if I made myself scarce for a few days.

Or better yet, a few weeks, during which time I’ll find Lindie.

Once I have her, she might be able to explain to her boss why I had to break into his office.

Or I might find myself permanently exiled from Ultrup. If Lindie is nowhere to be found, I won’t dare return to the city anytime soon.

I think of my cozy apartment above the bakery and Etta, who will worry about me if I disappear in the night. I’ll have to tell her I’m leaving for another messenger job that will keep me on the road for a while. I’ll use the money I stole to pay for my room in advance so she’s not short on funds.

In fact…

I inch closer to the unconscious man and pat him down, slipping the purse I’d chucked at him from his pocket.

I stole this money fair and square, and he’s got more than enough stashed in that lockbox in his room.

I mutter a curse, annoyed I didn’t think to check him for weapons earlier.

Running my hands along his side, I find the hilt of a dagger strapped to his waist, snug in a thick leather sheath.

I tug it free and toss it across the room.

It’s too large for me, unbalanced in my hand, clearly custom-made for an orc.

When I reach for his left boot, he shifts with a low grunt. My breath catches in my throat, and I jerk my hands back. His face scrunches up, then he exhales, a long sigh that sends up a swirl of dust in front of his face.

I wait a heartbeat, then dip the fingers of my left hand into his right boot and find a short knife. I tuck it into my belt, just in case.

His satchel rests beside him, the flap half open.

I flip it open fully and root through the contents.

I discard a few metal clips and an apple, push aside a small glass jar filled with the same yellow ointment I saw in his room, and finally nick his coin purse.

The chime of the coins inside is light and disappointing. Mostly silver and copper, not gold.

He groans, and I jerk back, jumping out of the way. Then I remind myself he’s tied up and relax just a little. I round his form again and crouch at a safe distance, watching his face intently.

He blinks, slowly at first, and furrows his brow. Then he tries to lift his head and lets out a hiss of pain.

“Fuck,” he mutters, scrunching his eyes shut.

I’m torn between wanting to reach over to help him and a strange sort of pride that I bested a man this strong.

I see the moment he realizes he’s been tied up. The muscles of his arms bunch, and he drags in a sharp breath, then stills, his entire body freezing in place.

Slowly, he twists his head enough to look up, and his dark gaze falls on me. We stare at each other in silence. His eyes widen at the sight of my face, and I remember I took off my scarf to stuff it under his head—an act of kindness I’m regretting now that he feasts his gaze hungrily on me.

I’ve never been looked at like this before. He traces the shape of my face with his gaze, but there’s more than just curiosity in his eyes. He stares at me as if I’m the prize he was after tonight, not the gold I stole.

And now he knows exactly what I look like.

Damn it, Tessa.

Lindie had warned me I was too soft-hearted to survive the streets.

That’s why she talked me out of joining Damen’s gang full-time and only let me work select jobs.

At first, I thought she just wanted the gang to herself, but the truth was, she was hardened in ways I wasn’t.

I’d only lived this life for under a decade—she’d been surviving on the streets since she could walk.

Now my impulse to help this stranger has put me in danger. If nothing else, he could now identify me. He could sell the information about me to the gang leader, and I know Damen would pay him handsomely for it.

I really shouldn’t have stolen from him.

He’s still staring at me, but he makes no move to attack, so my breathing gradually levels out. His expression is calmer now, the raw hunger I glimpsed a moment ago gone, or simply hidden.

“Hello,” he rumbles, the deep timbre of his voice reverberating through the small space. “Lovely to meet you.”