Page 13

Savvy

Six Months Later

A year can change everything. Last April, I was a woman desperate to save her family's legacy, fighting Victor Hargrove at every turn, and utterly alone in my battle.

Now, on this perfect spring morning, I stand on my porch watching Shadow Ridge blooming with life.

The diner has been busier than I can ever remember. I had to hire two new waitresses to help Helen and Mandy handle the weekend crowds. It seems the "dangerous biker" reputation that initially made folks nervous about the Ironborn has transformed into something closer to curiosity, even admiration. It doesn't hurt that the bikers spend generously, tip well, and have brought an economic boost to our struggling town.

From where I stand, I can see the back of Silas’s old garage that Vargan converted into his custom motorcycle shop three months ago. "Thronshade Customs" reads the hand-painted sign, with "Bikes Built for Orc Bodies" in smaller letters beneath. It still makes me smile.

Victor's black truck rolls down Main Street, but these days it's just another vehicle. People don't scurry away or watch nervously as it passes. Victor and Royce may still live in their mansion on the hill, awaiting trial for fraud and conspiracy charges that keep getting delayed, but their power has evaporated along with their development contract.

Willie bursts through the screen door behind me, backpack slung over one shoulder. "I'm heading to the shop after school," he announces, taking the porch steps two at a time. "Vargan's letting me help install the custom exhaust on Crow's new bike."

"Just be home by dinner," I call after him. "And wear your safety gear!"

He waves without looking back, already jogging toward his truck.

The rumble of motorcycles draws my attention to the road, where a convoy of Ironborn riders approaches the house. They're a common sight now, these caravans of green-skinned bikers passing through on their way to or from the Shadow Ridge chapter. What's unusual this time is the rider in the lead—Hammer himself, his massive form unmistakable even from a distance.

As they near, I see Helen's truck following behind them. She pulls into my driveway while the motorcycles continue on toward town, all except Hammer's, which makes a circle in the diner parking lot then pulls in behind Helen.

"Morning, Savvy," Helen calls, climbing out of her pickup. She's wearing a crisp blue blouse I've never seen before, her silver hair twisted into an elegant knot instead of her usual practical bun. "Thought I'd stop by on my way to the diner."

"Morning," I reply, noticing the extra care she's taken with her appearance. "You look nice today."

A faint blush colors her cheeks as Hammer dismounts his bike, removing his helmet to reveal a face weathered by years on the road but still handsome in a rugged way.

"Ms. Greene," he greets me with a formal nod. "Hope you don't mind me stopping by. I wanted to thank you personally for hosting our chapter meeting tonight."

"It's Savvy," I remind him, smiling. "And it's no trouble. The diner's closed Mondays anyway."

Hammer turns to Helen, his stern expression softening noticeably. "Helen, you look nice."

"As do you, Gorrin," she replies, using his real name with a familiarity that raises my eyebrows.

There's a moment of charged silence between them, speaking volumes about conversations I haven't been privy to. When did these two start talking on a first-name basis? And why hasn't Helen mentioned it?

"Well," Helen says, breaking the moment, "I should get to the diner. Mandy will need help with the prep for tonight's meeting."

"I'll join you," Hammer offers quickly. "I need to check in with Crow and Diesel anyway."

They leave together, Helen in her truck, Hammer on his bike, but the way they glance at each other before departing tells me everything I need to know. Something is definitely going on there.

I'm still smiling about this development when strong arms wrap around me from behind and the familiar scent of motor oil and leather envelops me.

"What's so amusing?" Vargan asks, his tusks grazing my ear as he speaks.

I lean back against his chest, reveling in the solid warmth of him. "I think Hammer and Helen are... involved."

Vargan chuckles, the sound rumbling through both of us. "You just noticed? They've been dancing around each other since his first visit three months ago."

I turn in his arms, surprised. "And you didn't tell me?"

"Wasn't my secret to tell," he says with a shrug. "Besides, it was fun watching you not notice."

I swat his chest playfully. "Some friend you are. Does Willie know?"

"Willie's known longer than I have. Said he caught them talking behind the diner when Hammer was here in February."

The image makes me grin wider. Helen—pragmatic, no-nonsense Helen—talking to a orc like a teenager. And with the president of an outlaw motorcycle club, no less.

"Good for them," I decide. "Helen deserves happiness. They both do."

Vargan hums in agreement, his eyes warm as he studies me. "As do we all."

It still takes my breath away sometimes, looking at him in the daylight—this powerful orc with his green skin and imposing tusks, the beast who chose to stay when he could have run, who fought the charges against him not just for himself but for us, for the future we are building together.

"Speaking of happiness," he says, reaching into his jacket pocket, "I have something for you."

He pulls out a small velvet box, and my heart skips several beats.

"Vargan..."

"Before you say anything," he interrupts, sudden nervousness evident in his usually confident demeanor, "I know it might seem fast. It's only been six months since I came back. But I've known since the moment I saw you standing outside Victor's mansion, willing to give up everything for me, that there would never be anyone else."

He opens the box, revealing a ring unlike any I've seen before—a band of what looks like hammered silver, inset with a small amber stone the exact color of his eyes.

"It's orc tradition," he explains, seeing my puzzled expression. "Silver, not gold. Amber for protection. I made it myself, in the shop after hours."

Tears prick my eyes as I understand the significance—not just a ring from a jewelry store, but something crafted by his own hands, imbued with his culture, his heritage.

"In the camps," he continues, voice dropping lower, "they took everything from us. Our names, our culture, our traditions. I never thought I'd have the chance to honor any of it again. To pass it on." His eyes meet mine, vulnerable and hopeful. "To have a family to share it with."

I'm crying openly now, unable to contain the emotion welling up inside me. A family. Our family. The promise of a future neither of us thought possible a year ago.

"Savannah Greene," he says formally, dropping to one knee despite the ridiculousness of the gesture given our height difference, "will you marry me? Be my bondmate, my heart, my home?"

"Yes," I answer without hesitation. "Yes, Vargan Thronshade. A thousand times yes."

He slides the ring onto my finger, where it fits perfectly. Of course it does—he makes custom motorcycle parts; sizing a ring would be child's play for those skilled hands.

When he rises, lifting me off the ground in his enthusiasm, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, pouring all my love into it.

"We should tell Willie first," I say when we finally break apart, both breathless.

Vargan sets me down gently, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "He already knows. I asked for his blessing three weeks ago."

My heart melts all over again. "You asked my sixteen-year-old brother for permission to marry me?"

"He's your family," Vargan says simply, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And family matters to you, so it matters to me."

This man—this orc who society taught me to fear, who taught himself to trust no one—understands the core of me in a way no one else ever has.

"I love you," I tell him, the words inadequate for the depth of feeling behind them.

As if sensing my thoughts, Vargan squeezes my hand. "I love you too."

I look up at him, this orc who turned my life upside down and showed me that sometimes losing what you think you want leads to finding what you truly need.

The ring on my finger catches the sunlight, sending amber reflections dancing across our joined hands—green and pink, orc and human, different but perfectly matched.

A year ago, I thought my world was ending when Victor threatened everything I'd built. Now I understand it wasn't ending at all.

It was just beginning.

Dear Reader,

Vargan and Savvy have lived in my head for over a year now, and it's been a relief to see them come together on the page. They have quickly become two of my favorite characters.

Hammer and Ash have also been very loud and will get their own stories, but there was another, quieter voice speaking to me from a far back corner.

Crow (Brotan)

He was the youngest of the thousands of orcs who crossed the Rift when our world collided with another twenty-something years ago, and he never had a chance to learn anything the easy way. He was raised as a weapon to be used to defeat the “second coming of orc”. Humanity scarred him deeply.

But one night, being treated with compassion from a human changes everything for him. And when that one human finds herself the target of revenge meant for him, he'll do anything to keep her safe, including burning this whole new world down.

Want to meet our next Orc hero? Turn the page to read Brotan’s first chapter.

Reagan