4. Josie

4

JOSIE

I stare up at Sarod, my heart pounding in my chest. His massive form looms over me, those amber eyes boring into mine with an intensity that makes me want to shrink away. But I can't. I'm trapped here in this dank alley with an angry orc who could snap me like a twig.

"You little thief," he growls, baring those sharp tusks. His hot breath washes over me, reeking of ale and something metallic. "Did you really think you could steal from me and get away with it? In my own damn territory?"

My voice comes out as a pathetic squeak, barely audible over the pounding of my heart. "I-I'm sorry. Please, I didn't— I was just so hungry. I didn't know what else to do." My excuses sound hollow even to my own ears.

"Shut up." He cuts me off with a snarl, slamming his meaty fist against the wall beside my head. I flinch, cowering further into the corner. "I don't give a shit about your reasons. You owe me your life now, girl. And I intend to collect." His amber eyes gleam with a predatory light that makes my blood run cold.

A chill runs down my spine, icy tendrils of fear creeping through my veins. What does he mean by that? Images of torture chambers and dark dungeons flash through my mind, each more terrifying than the last. My imagination runs wild with horrific scenarios, and I can almost feel the cold bite of shackles on my wrists.

"To pay your debt, you'll serve in my home," Sarod declares, his voice as unyielding as stone. "Starting tonight."

"What? No!" The words burst out before I can stop them, my voice shrill with panic. "I can't—I have a family, my mother, I—" My thoughts race, picturing my frail mother waiting for me at home, wondering where I've gone. How can I abandon her?

His hand shoots out, gripping my arm so tight I gasp in pain. His fingers dig into my flesh like bands, and I'm sure I'll have bruises later. "You don't have a choice," he growls, his face inches from mine. "Unless you'd prefer I turn you over to the authorities? I'm sure they'd love to make an example of a filthy human thief." His breath is hot on my face, and I can see the cruel glint in his amber eyes. The threat hangs in the air between us, heavy and suffocating.

"No, but?—"

"Do you really think they'll believe anything you say? Your word versus mine? You're fucked and you know it." Sarod's voice drips with cruel satisfaction, and I feel my stomach twist into knots.

Tears sting my eyes as the reality of my situation sinks in. I'm completely at his mercy, trapped in his vicious coils. And from the cruel glint in Sarod's amber eyes, I don't think he has much mercy to spare. My mind races, searching desperately for a way out, but every path leads to a dead end.

"Fine," I whisper, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. My shoulders slump in defeat, and I feel something inside me crumble.

A smirk twists Sarod's lips, his tusks gleaming in the dim light. "Smart girl," he purrs, his voice full of mockery that makes my skin crawl. "Now come along. We have a long walk ahead of us."

He drags me through the darkened streets, his tight grip never loosening. I stumble to keep up with his long strides, my mind reeling. What have I gotten myself into? And what will become of my family without me there to help support them?

As we reach the outskirts of town, grand mansions loom ahead, their windows dark in the late hour. The air grows cooler, and I shiver, partly from the chill and partly from fear. Sarod leads me up a winding path to an enormous stone structure that puts the others to shame. Its imposing silhouette against the night sky makes my stomach churn with dread.

My eyes widen as we step inside, and I can't help but gasp. I've never seen such opulence—gleaming reflective floors that mirror our distorted reflections, priceless artwork adorning every wall, and furniture that probably costs more than I'll make in a lifetime. The scent of polished wood and expensive perfumes tickles my nose, so different from the musty odor of my family's cramped home.

"Welcome to your new home," Sarod says with a mocking bow, his tusks glinting in the soft light of ornate magical lamps. "I hope you're ready to work, little thief. Because you've got a lot of making up to do." His words send a chill down my spine, and I swallow hard, wondering what kind of labor awaits me in this gilded prison.

I gawk at the sheer extravagance surrounding me. Crystal chandeliers drip from vaulted ceilings, their facets throwing rainbow prisms across polished floors. Plush rugs that could feed my family for months cushion each step. Ornate vases and priceless artwork line the walls, mocking me with their useless beauty.

My fingers twitch, longing to snatch something—anything—to pawn. The urge is almost overwhelming, a familiar itch that hit me back in the tavern when I saw Sarod's gold chain. But his watchful gaze keeps me in check, his amber eyes tracking my every move like a predator sizing up its prey.

"Like what you see, thief?" He smirks, gesturing around the grand foyer with a sweep of his muscular arm. His tusks catch the light as he grins, sending another shiver down my spine. "Try not to drool on my floors. They cost more than you'd make in a lifetime."

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to retort. The sheer arrogance in his voice makes my blood boil, but I know better than to provoke him. Instead, I force myself to look away from the tempting riches surrounding us, focusing on the polished floor beneath my feet.

"Alright, time to earn your keep." Sarod snaps his fingers, and a severe-looking human woman appears. She's tall and stands straight. Her black hair is pinned back into a bun that rests at the nape of her neck. As a human, I'd expect some kindness in those gray eyes, but… there's nothing there. "Greta, show our new... guest to the servants' quarters. Then put her to work scrubbing the kitchens."

"The kitchens?" I blurt out, my eyes widening in disbelief. "But it's the middle of the night! Surely no one's even using them right now."

Sarod's eyes narrow, his amber gaze piercing through me. "Problem?" he growls.

I swallow hard, feeling the weight of his stare. "No," I mutter, dropping my gaze to avoid his intimidating glare. My fingers fidget with the hem of my shirt, a nervous habit I can't seem to shake.

"Good," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Because from now on, you work when I say you work. When I say jump, you ask how high. When I say scrub, you scrub until your fingers bleed. Clear?"

I nod stiffly, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something I'll regret. Without another word, I turn to follow Greta down a narrow, winding staircase. With each step, the opulence of Sarod's mansion fades away, replaced by stark stone walls that seem to close in around us. The plush carpets give way to bare wooden floors that creak ominously under our feet.

At the bottom, Greta shoves a bucket and brush into my hands, the items feeling impossibly heavy in my exhausted state. The acrid smell of cleaning solutions assaults my nose, and I brace myself for a long, grueling night ahead.

"Get to it," she grunts. "And don't even think about slacking off."

Hours pass as I scrub greasy pots and scour burnt-on food from massive ovens. My back aches, my hands are raw, and exhaustion threatens to overwhelm me. My mind races with thoughts. How am I going to reach my mother again? How can I explain my situation? She's probably waiting for me. And I won't be able to come.

Just as I finish, Sarod strolls in, his imposing figure filling the doorway. The scent of his cologne mingles with the harsh cleaning solutions, making my head spin.

"Not bad," he says, his deep voice rumbling as he inspects a gleaming countertop. His massive hand runs along the surface, searching for imperfections. "But you missed a spot." Without warning, he knocks over my bucket with his foot, dirty water splashing across the floor I just spent hours cleaning. The sight of my hard work ruined in an instant makes my blood boil.

"What the fuck?" I snap, forgetting myself in my anger. The words burst out before I can stop them, echoing in the now-silent kitchen.

Sarod's amber eyes flash dangerously, his tusks gleaming as he bares his teeth. "Watch your tone, girl," he growls, taking a step closer. His shadow looms over me, reminding me of how small I am compared to him. "You're here to work, not talk back. Know your place."

Trembling with silent fury, I clench my fists at my sides. "I have a name," I growl, meeting his gaze despite every instinct screaming at me to look away. "It's Josie. And I deserve basic respect, even if I am just a servant to you."

"I don't care what your name is," he snarls, his breath hot on my face. "You're nothing but a thief who owes me. A worthless little pest I should've left to rot in that alley." His words cut deep, each one a knife twisting in my gut. "Now clean up this mess and get started on the dining room. I expect it spotless before tomorrow morning's breakfast. And if it's not, you'll wish you'd never set foot in my house."

As he storms out, I glare at his retreating back, my nails digging crescents into my palms. The sound of his heavy footsteps fades, leaving me alone with the bitter taste of humiliation. This partnership, if you can call it that, is off to a wonderful start. I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. How long before one of us kills the other? Given the murderous thoughts already swirling in my mind, I'd wager it won't be long at all.