Page 20

Chapter Nine

Ash

T he war room is compromised.

I sit in the chair where Nova came apart in my arms, staring at the table where I spread her open and took her mouth like I owned it.

The leather still holds her scent—citrus and woman and the musk of what we did together.

My hands remember the weight of her thighs, the way she trembled when she said my name.

Torgash.

Not the sanitized version I give humans who can't handle the truth of what I am. My real name, the one that tastes like blood and survival on my tongue. She said it with reverence, with absolution, seeing straight to the core of me without flinching.

The trust in that moment—letting me see her completely undone, calling me by my real name without fear—it's carved itself into my bones. Makes the secret I'm keeping about her sister feel like poison in my chest.

Something restless prowls through my chest, confused by my restraint. I could have taken her completely. Could have buried myself inside her until she forgot every reason we shouldn't be doing this. But that's not what she needed.

She needed to surrender without being conquered. She needed to know she could let go without losing herself, that she could trust me.

And hell, watching her break apart under my hands, seeing that fierce control finally crack—it was better than any claiming could have been.

The door clicks open behind me. I don't turn, don't acknowledge whoever's stupid enough to interrupt.

"Brooding makes you look almost human," Diesel says, dropping into the chair across from me.

If he can smell what happened in here—and with an orc's senses, he definitely can—he's not letting on. Club courtesy, maybe. Or he's smart enough not to poke that particular bear.

"Go to hell."

"Can't. Got news you need to hear." He sets a folder on the table, careful not to touch the surface where Nova's scent still lingers. "Another foreclosure went through. Williams family. Lost their farm to some shell company out of Atlanta."

I force myself to focus, to push thoughts of Nova's broken breathing aside. "Same pattern?"

"Identical. Fake documentation, rushed timeline, judge who's suddenly very accommodating." Diesel leans back, studying my face. "Judge Kellerman's been rubber-stamping Royce's bullshit for months."

"Kellerman's been taking bribes for years," I realize. "Not just from Royce, from anyone willing to pay."

"Looks that way. Organized corruption that chews up anyone who gets in its way." Diesel's expression darkens. "The Williams family is just the latest."

The pattern makes sense in a way that's almost worse than conspiracy. Not some grand design, just a machine designed to grind up anyone who can't afford to fight back.

Just like Nova's fighting now.

Diesel pulls out another document. "There's more. Vargan found irregularities in the property transfers—they're not random. Royce is building a corridor."

I study the highlighted parcels on the map. "Access to what?"

"Transportation. Something big enough to require multiple properties in sequence." The connections become clearer as I trace the pattern. "Hotels, maybe. Casino. Something that needs significant infrastructure and road access."

"That's a lot of families to displace."

"All of them with the same documentation problems, all pushed through Kellerman's court." I trace the pattern of seized properties. "He's not just taking farms—he's reshaping the entire county for development."

Damn. Royce isn't just stealing land—he's erasing an entire community.

"We need to move faster," I tell Diesel. "We need to record the depositions, secure the evidence, and protect the witnesses before Royce realizes how much we know."

"And Nova?"

"Stays protected. Whatever it takes."

Diesel studies my face, reading something there that makes him nod slowly. "You know this won't end quietly, right? Royce has too much invested to just walk away."

"I know."

"And you know what that means for her? For whatever's happening between you two?"

I meet his eyes, letting him see the cold determination in my bones. "It means I keep her safe while she sees justice done. Everything else is secondary."

After Diesel leaves, I sit alone in the war room, surrounded by evidence of corruption and the lingering echo of Nova's surrender. Two battles raging simultaneously—one for Shadow Ridge's future, one for the woman who's getting under my skin in ways that terrify me.

But as I study the map of displaced families, the pattern of destruction, one thing becomes clear: Royce underestimated the woman he's threatening. Nova isn't just another obstacle to remove. She's the reckoning he's been avoiding.

And I'll be damned if I let anyone stop her from delivering it.

Even if it means burning down everything I've built to keep her safe.

The burner phone on the desk buzzes, breaking the thought. Hammer's encrypted number flashes on the screen.

"Yeah?" I answer, settling back in the chair that still holds Nova's scent.

"Diesel says you've got movement on the Royce situation." No greeting, no small talk. Straight to business, the way Hammer handles everything.

"More than movement. We've mapped his entire operation." I pull up the property files on my laptop. "He's not just stealing individual farms—he's carving out a development corridor. Twenty-three properties so far, most seized through Kellerman's court."

"Twenty-three?" Hammer's pause carries calculation. "That's infrastructure-level planning."

"Casino, most likely. Maybe a resort complex. Royce thinks like his uncle, but with bigger ambitions. Whatever he's planning needs highway access and doesn't give a damn about displaced families." I trace the highlighted parcels again. "We're talking hundreds of millions in development potential."

"And your sheriffs stumbled right into the middle of it."

"She's not stumbling. She's hunting." The distinction matters more than it should. "Question is whether we let her finish the hunt or step in before Royce decides she's too dangerous to leave breathing."

Hammer goes quiet, processing implications. Running an MC means thinking ten moves ahead, weighing risks against rewards, deciding which battles are worth the blood they'll cost.

"The brothers want to escalate," he says finally. "Vargan's been pushing for a show of force since the Henderson foreclosure. Says we're wasting time with paperwork when twenty brothers rolling up to Royce's office would solve this faster."

"Vargan's wrong." The words scrape the back of my throat.

"We start throwing our weight around, and Nova's case becomes worthless.

Everything she's built gets tainted by association with MC intimidation.

We could crush Royce tomorrow, but unless Nova proves the corruption legally, some other piece of shit will just step into his place next month. "

"And if Royce moves first? Eliminates the threat before she can use what she's gathered?" Hammer counters.

The thought sends ice through my veins. "Then we handle it. But Nova gets to fight this her way first."

"Because you're going soft on a human sheriff?" Hammer's voice goes flat.

Heat crawls up my neck. Hammer's writing off Nova like she's some civilian who's got me twisted around her finger instead of the sheriff who's built a bulletproof case so fast.

"Because she's good at her job, and the legal route keeps us clean when this goes federal," I tell him.

"Uh-huh." Hammer's testing me. "How good at her job is she?"

Sharp enough to build an airtight case in three days. Smart enough to see patterns other investigators missed. Stubborn enough to keep fighting when anyone reasonable would have accepted the threats and backed down.

"Skilled enough to make Shadow Ridge untouchable for the next son of a bitch who thinks of following in Royce's footsteps," I tell Hammer.

Hammer goes quiet. I can practically hear him calculating moves and countermoves.

"Then we give her the room to work. But Ash?" Hammer's voice turns hard. "You make this work. Whatever it takes. Club's invested too much in this town to lose it because some corrupt prick got lucky with an ambush."

After Hammer ends the call, I sit staring at the phone. The weight of club expectations pressing against something more personal, more urgent. They want Nova protected because she's useful. I want her protected because—

Because what? Because she said my real name without flinching? Because she surrendered to me completely, trusting me with her pleasure and her vulnerability? Because every time I think about losing her, something vicious and possessive snarls in my chest like something vital is being ripped away.

The war room door opens again. Vargan fills the doorway, massive even by orc standards, hardened face grim with whatever news he's carrying.

"Morris surfaced," he says, jaw tight.

I straighten. "Where?"

"Atlanta. Meeting with a lawyer from Pierce & Associates." Vargan drops into the chair Diesel vacated, metal protesting under his weight. "Same firm handling Royce's property transfers."

Shit. Morris is selling everything he knows. "What's he trading?"

"Department procedures, security protocols, which judges take bribes." Vargan's expression darkens. "Plus every backdoor Dawson built into the system."

My hands clench. Morris knows the sheriff stations' weak spots, the corrupt channels Nova's trying to shut down. He's handing Royce a roadmap to destroy her case.

"Santos know?"

"Santos figured it out when Morris cleaned out his locker. Been waiting for him to surface somewhere." Vargan glances at his phone. "But here's the thing—Morris doesn't know Nova's been operating from here."

Thank the gods for small favors. Everything we've built stays secret.

"We need to move fast," I tell Vargan. "Before that piece of shit connects the dots."