Page 31

Grinder leads me through a common area where brothers pause mid-conversation to watch us pass.

A dozen orcs scattered around - some playing cards, others nursing beers, one reading a newspaper.

All with the unmistakable green skin that marks them as Ironborn.

No hostility in their gazes, just curiosity.

And something else. Respect, maybe. Or caution.

We reach a hallway lined with doors. Grinder stops at the last one, raps his knuckles against metal.

"What?" His voice is rough, distracted.

"Visitor." Grinder opens the door without waiting for permission.

Ash sits behind a desk covered in paperwork, head bent over a laptop and ledgers. Three months since I walked away. His green skin looks pale under fluorescent lights, scars more pronounced. Hair longer, jaw shadowed.

Then he looks up.

My chest locks. I can't breathe. Can't think.

His face goes blank in half a second. Whatever I saw—shock, pain, something that looked like relief—disappears behind the walls we both know how to build.

"Grinder." His tone gives nothing away. "Out."

The door closes.

I'm standing three feet from him, but it feels like miles. My hands shake, so I shove them in my jacket pockets. He doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Just watches me with those amber eyes I know too well.

"Why?" My throat barely works.

He closes the laptop deliberately and leans back in his chair. His eyes move over my face, down to my hands, back up. Taking in details. The weight I've lost. The exhaustion I can't hide. How long I've been standing in his doorway.

"You need to be more specific."

Same deflection. Same cold tone. But those eyes catalog everything.

"Derek Sullivan."

He nods once.

"Carman's case."

Another nod.

"Shadow Ridge."

Something flickers across his expression. "The operation was complete."

"Bullshit." The word explodes from me. "Hammer told me you burned legal connections and called in favors you can't get back. You did all of it without telling me. Without asking."

"Hammer told you?" His face goes completely still.

"Yes. He was worried about you." I step closer. "Why, Ash?"

"Would you have wanted me to ask?" One eyebrow raises. "Or would you have told me to stay the hell out of your business?"

Tension coils through my shoulders. He's right, and I hate him for it. "That wasn't your call to make."

"No?" He stands slowly, hands braced on the desk. "You left, Nova. Left your badge. Left that recording. Left me to figure out what the hell you were trying to accomplish."

"I was protecting you. The club. The case."

"So when you protect me, it's noble. When I protect you, it's wrong." His voice has an edge now.

"It was the only solution."

The bottom falls out. He's right, and I hate that he's right.

"You get to make unilateral decisions, but I'm not allowed to do my fucking job?" He moves around the desk now, closing the distance. "You get to sacrifice what matters for what you think is right, but I'm not allowed to?"

"This was my fight. My sister."

"And you were losing because you used your leverage to win my war." Flat. Brutal honesty. "You handed me victory and walked away with nothing."

Air catches in my throat. "So you fixed it. Made it all better. Swooped in and solved the problem I couldn't."

"No." He's close enough now that I catch his scent—leather and soap and that unique scent that is all Ash. "I kept a promise I made in your bed three months ago. I told you I'd get justice for Carman, even if you hated me for it."

"I don't hate you. I hate what you did."

"Then why are you here?" His eyes search my face. "You got what you wanted. Carman gets justice. Derek pays, and Shadow Ridge wins. It's everything you wanted."

"Because you didn't give me a choice."

"Neither did you when you left." His voice cracks slightly. "You made your decision. I made mine."

We're three feet apart. I can see the pulse in his throat, the way his hands clench and release like he's fighting not to reach for me. The same fight I'm losing.

"What did Derek's confession really cost you?" I flew all this way to find out.

"Nothing that mattered."

"Don't." I step closer. Heat radiates off him. "Don't dismiss it. Tell me what justice for Carman cost you."

He studies me for a long moment, weighing something in his mind. Finally, he sighs. "Legal connections. Resources I can build again."

"And Shadow Ridge?"

"Vargan's running the chapter. Club's fine without me."

"That's not what I asked."

His jaw works. "They don't need me anymore, and what I wanted wasn't there."

The words hit harder than they should. "Because of me."

"Because of the choices we both made."

Another step closer. Close enough now that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

"Why didn't you want me to know?" This question matters most. "Why arrange it all anonymously?"

Something shifts in his expression. "Because you didn't want my help. Made that abundantly clear. But Carman deserved justice, with or without your permission."

"And you?" My voice drops. "What did you deserve?"

His laugh is bitter, barely a sound. "I'm an orc with bloodstained hands, Nova. I don't waste time thinking about what I deserve."

"That's not an answer."

"Fine." His voice turns sharp. "I deserved to know why you couldn't tell me what you were planning."

The truth sinks in, heavy and undeniable. I'd done exactly what I accused him of—made decisions that affected us both without consultation, without trust.

"We're even, then." I meet his gaze steadily. "Both making choices the other didn't ask for."

"Is that why you came? To establish equal footing?"

"I came because—" The words stick in my throat. Why did I come? To confront him? To thank him? To understand what kind of man dismantles his life to keep a promise to someone who walked away?

"Because you fixed what I couldn't," I finally say. "And I needed to know why."

Something softens in his expression. "You know why."

And I do. The knowledge has been there since Hammer's call, since the moment I understood what Ash had done. I just haven't been ready to name it.

"Say it," I challenge him, needing to hear it aloud. "Tell me why you did it."

His hands clench once, then relax. "Because you fought alone long enough. Because Carman deserved justice. Because I promised."

"Those are reasons. Not the reason."

His gaze burns into mine. "Because I love you. Have since you pulled a gun on me in a diner parking lot. Will until they put me in the ground."

The confession lands hard. Three words that terrify me more than anything Royce ever threatened.

"That's not—" I shake my head. "You don't know me. Not really."

"I know exactly who you are, Nova Reyes.

" He steps closer, eliminating the remaining distance between us.

His massive frame dwarfs mine, skin the color of pine needles stark against the white office walls.

One tusk slightly chipped from some long-ago fight.

"Stubborn. Righteous. Too damn brave for your own good.

Willing to burn yourself to the ground if it means getting justice for someone else. "

His hand rises, hovers near my face without touching. "I know you push people away because letting them close means risking loss. Know you'd rather sacrifice yourself than ask for help."

His voice drops lower. "And I know that scares the hell out of you—someone seeing all the broken parts and staying anyway."

"You left," I remind him, the accusation weak even to my own ears.

"I stepped back. There's a difference." He doesn't look away. "Gave you the space to choose. To decide if what we started was worth fighting for."

"And if I choose to walk away?" The question is barely a whisper.

"Then you walk away." His voice roughens. "But you get the choice this time. No manipulations, no sacrifices, no noble bullshit about protecting each other."

Three months ago, I left to protect him. Now he's asking me to stay. To choose him instead of running.

"I don't know how to do this," I admit. The confession costs more than I expected.

"Neither do I." His honesty is unexpected, disarming. "But I'm willing to figure it out if you are."

His hand finally makes contact, callused fingers brushing my cheek with impossible gentleness. The touch breaks something loose inside me—a dam I've been maintaining since the police knocked on my door, since I learned how dangerous it is to love someone in a world that takes without mercy.

I lean into his palm, closing my eyes briefly against the rush of feeling. When I open them again, his gaze is steady on mine, waiting for an answer I'm not sure I know how to give.

But I know how to show it.

I close the final distance between us and press my mouth to his.