Page 15 of Thankful for My Orc
“Go,” I say, already standing. “People need you.”
“I’m really sorry about this—”
“Don’t be. This is what you do.” I pause, surprised by what I’m about to say. “Can I come with you? Not close to the fire,” I add quickly, seeing his expression. “But maybe I could wait somewhere nearby? See you in action?”
His expression tightens, a mix of surprise and something almost vulnerable. “You want to watch me work?”
“I want to see the man who stepped between me and the spattering grease without hesitating demonstrate why he deserves to be on that crew.”
His smile is brilliant and brief. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Seven
Forge
My mind races as Jordan drives me back to the firehouse. Having her here, wanting to see me work, feels both thrilling and terrifying. The guys said the hazing was officially over, that I’d proven myself. But what if today proves the opposite? What if Jordan sees me falter and realizes I’m just the rookie they used to haze?
As we pull up to the bay doors, I give her hand a quick squeeze. “Stay well clear once you arrive at the scene. Park behind the cordon and keep back. Deal?”
“I’ll stay out of trouble. Don’t worry about me, firefighter.”
Her smile is brave, but the flicker of concern in her eyes hits me harder than it should. The idea of her anywhere near dangertightens something in my chest—but beneath that, there’s a spark of pride. She wants to see me do what I was born to do.
With no time to spare, I sprint inside to join the crew. The bay is already a blur of movement. I haul on bunker pants, coat, and boots while Chief snaps out assignments. Helmet and gloves in hand, mask clipped at my side, I climb aboard the engine with the others. Within seconds, we’re rolling, siren bouncing off brick and glass.
Jordan follows in her car. When we reach the scene, she parks well back, safely behind the cordon. Even from here, I can see her leaning forward in her car, watching me with an intensity that makes something primal stir in my chest. She’s here to see what I can do. I won’t let her down.
The apartment building is a three-story brick structure, with smoke pouring from the second-floor windows. Chief Brokka barks orders, and we spring into action. “Ironwood, you and Kam take the second floor. Reports of two elderly residents still inside apartment 2B. Your size advantage—use it.”
The words send a surge of pride through me. My size isn’t a liability here—it’s an asset. I catch a glimpse of Jordan watching from behind the cordon, now leaning against her car door. Something fierce and determined settles in my chest. Let her see what this orc can do.
All of us turn on the radios strapped to our belts and gear up with face masks, helmets, gloves, and axes as the chief directs the crew. Oxygen tanks and masks are on standby; we typically don’t need them unless toxic chemicals are involved in the fire.
The stairwell is thick with smoke, but Kam and I navigate it with confidence. The sixty pounds of gear doesn’t slow either of us, even as smoke curls into my lungs. I was built for this. When we reach the second floor, I don’t hesitate. I know the couple in 2B.
I’ve got the couple,” I say to Kam.
“Good. I’ll clear the rest of the floor.” He moves off to the end of the hall.
“Thessa! Darius!” I call out, finding their door unlocked. I stride inside, my voice cutting through the blaring fire alarm and the sirens outside. My lungs are built for this. Smoke that would choke humans barely stings my throat.
I find them huddled in the bathroom, an elderly minotaur couple sitting on the floor, clinging to each other. Thessa is conscious but disoriented; Darius is weak and appears to have inhaled too much smoke. They have wet towels over their mouths, but both are coughing, tears pouring down their shaggy faces.
I hit the toggle on my radio, “I got them, Chief. They’re both alive and conscious.”
“Roger, Forge. Keep your radio open and let me know if you need help.”
“You’re safe now,” I tell them in their An’Wa dialect. The relief in their eyes when they hear their native language is worth everything.
I switch to English because the Chief is listening, and I know they speak English fluently. “Can you stand up?” Thessa nods yes as Darius shakes his head no.
“I’m going to help both of you get out of here. Keep the towels over your mouth and nose. When I lift you up, Darius, don’t struggle. Let me do all the work.”
I help Thessa up, and lean her against the sink, then shoulder Darius in a fireman’s carry. Holding Darius secure with one hand, I wrap my arm across Thessa’s back and grip her tightly around the waist. She leans on me, and I shift Darius a little to counterbalance the sudden pull on my arm. Their combined weight should break me. Instead, my muscles burn with a welcome fire. Carrying what others can’t—that’s what I was made for.
The moment we emerge from the building, I scan the crowd, my gaze finding Jordan’s. Even through the smoke and chaos, I see her clearly. Her hand is pressed to her lips, eyes wide with awe—and something hotter. The fire in the building is nothing compared to the blaze in my veins.
Kam comes out the door right behind me. “I got the wife, Forge. Good job, rookie.” He scoops the frail, barely conscious minotaur into his arms and places her gently onto one of the waiting stretchers as I lower Darius onto another.
