Page 41 of The Orc's Protection
He steps inside and shuts the door behind him. “Bad?”
“Worse than random,” I reply. “There’s intent.”
Grulk exhales through his lips. “You’ve filed?”
“Yes.” I tap the closed laptop. “Initial report submitted. District security has logged it, but won’t begin formal review for at least forty-eight hours.”
“And?”
“And now we wait.”
He studies me for a long moment. “You don’t like waiting.”
“No.”
Grulk nods once. “The principal?”
“Will be notified once the review begins. I’m not bypassing protocol.”
A beat. Then, quieter, “And her?”
I don’t ask who he means; the time for pretending she isn’t important to me is over. Meeting his gaze, I say, “I’m telling her.”
“Good,” he says simply.
There’s no teasing in his voice this time. No innuendo. Just acknowledgment.
“I’ll cover your afternoon patrol,” he adds. “That gives you space.”
I incline my head. “Thank you.”
When I step into the foyer, the school hums with its usual weekday rhythm: children laughing, teachers calling instructions, the ordinary noise of safety. I station myself near the front entrance as students arrive, scanning faces out of habit more than suspicion.
When Riona walks through the doors, our eyes meet briefly across the foyer. Her smile is quick, warm, then carefully tucked away as she notices Principal Winters nearby. Professional distance settles between us like a practiced reflex.
It shouldn’t sting.
It does.
I complete my rounds and submit the necessary paperwork before heading toward the kindergarten wing. I keep my approach deliberate, visible, and unhurried. There’s no reason to draw attention.
Riona is at her desk, reviewing papers. The classroom is empty; it’s her planning period. She looks up as I enter, surprise flickering across her face before resolving into composed awareness.
“Good morning, Mr. Vraag,” she says, professional but curious. “Everything okay?”
“I need a minute,” I say. “Not about routine checks.”
Her pen pauses. “Okay.”
I lower my voice. “There’s new information about the window. I don’t want to get into it here.”
She doesn’t ask questions. Just nods once. “After school?”
“Yes,” I say. “Somewhere else.”
Her brow furrows slightly, not in fear but calculation. “Somewhere neutral, then.”
I nod. “There’s a coffee shop a few blocks from the school. Busy enough we won’t stand out.”
