Page 89 of The Savage Vow
They were hauled in opposite directions, and Orlena screamed.
“Nargol!”
Her name tore through Nargol like a blade. The pain of failing her mate again was something she would not get used to. She fought the orcs’ hold, but they lifted her from the floor. She kicked one’s knee, and he screamed, buckling to the floor. She spun and head butted another one. She continued to fight to try to get free. They couldn’t take Orlena from her.
Not again.
Blood slicked her wrists as she struggled against the shackles.
None of it mattered.
Hard hands gripped her and forced her toward a dark staircase that led below the stronghold. The orcs taking her had one hell of time getting her down the stairs. She was not going to make their job easy.
The dungeons were older than the structure above. They had been carved directly beneath the underbelly of Soza with stone hollowed out and shaped into corridors. The air was thick, stagnant with mildew and a sour residue of despair.
Torches burned low on the walls. Their flames cast shadows that highlighted the darkness. Water dripped somewhere in the gloom, eachpingloud through the narrow passageways.
Nargol memorized every sound.
Every turn in the corridor.
She was marched down the final set of stone steps and shoved forward. Chains clinked at her wrists where the warriors had bound her hands tightly behind her back. The iron bit into her skin, but she barely felt it.
Her attention was on Orlena who was being escorted ahead of Nargol. They tossed Orlena into a cell first. She stumbled and caught herself on the damp floor, turning immediately. Her gaze frantically searched and landed on her. She flew to the door just as the guards slammed them shut. The sound reverberated through the corridor. Rage detonated inside Nargol’s chest.
“Nargol!” Orlena cried out.
It took all four of the warriors to force her into the neighboring cell. She fought them hard, even with her hands bound behind her back. She drove her shoulder into one guard hard enough to send him crashing into the opposite wall. Another dove a fist into her ribs. She growled and tried to twist away.
“Enough,” one snarled.
They pushed her into the cell and closed the bars in front of her. A heavy lock snapped into place. She lunged at the bars and smacked her body into them. She bared her tusks at the warriors.
“You’re not getting out of here,” the largest one vowed. He had the nerve to smirk at her.
She memorized his face. The moment she was free, that smirk would be permanently erased.
“Take these shackles off of me and say that to my face in here,” Nargol spat out. She had fought orcs much larger than him. They may have removed her weapons from her, but she wouldn’t need them. She could take him down without them.
“It’s not me you should be worried about, bitch. It will be that noose that will be tight around your neck come morning.”
Orlena’s soft cry bit through the air at his words. Nargol watched the orcs stalk away. She let loose a roar that came from the depths of her soul. Anger. Despair. Desperation. She pulled and tugged on the shackles to try to break free of them.
“Nargol.” Orlena’s soft voice broke through the rage that had consumed her.
She turned and found Orlena with her tear-streaked face leaning on the bars. Nargol walked over to her slowly and tried to rein in her anger.
“I’m sorry,” Nargol whispered. She didn’t know what else she could say. She couldn’t care less that she was in the dungeon. The sight of her mate in another cell almost brought her to her knees. She should have hidden her away somewhere she could have been safe.
Instead of facing being hung by a lunatic orc.
Orlena closed her eyes. Her body trembled as she leaned into the bars. Nargol stepped closer and felt the most helpless she’d ever been in her life. Never would she have thought she’d be in a position such as this.
“Look at me,” Nargol said.
Orlena lifted her gaze. It was filled with fear. A lone tear slid down her brown cheek. The breath was ripped from Nargol’s chest. She wanted to break something. Kill something or someone. Preferably an orc named Grat.
“I am here.”
