Page 7

Chapter Seven

Vargan

T he old couch in Silas's living room is too short, forcing my legs to hang over the armrest. But it's better than the alternative—lying awake at Savvy's with her scent haunting me from down the hall.

It's been two days since the storm. Two days since I did something stupid—kissed a human woman who's gotten under my skin like shrapnel. Two days of working myself to exhaustion just to stop the memory of her taste from playing on repeat in my mind.

Orcs don't do regret. We move forward, always. But this... this feels like quicksand pulling me deeper with every struggle to break free.

The sun isn't up yet, but sleep is done with me. I rise silently, careful not to wake Silas in the next room. The old man has been generous with his space, asking no questions about why I suddenly needed a place to stay. But the knowing look in his eyes tells me he understands more than I've said.

I brew coffee in the ancient percolator on Silas's stove, watching dawn break over Shadow Ridge through the kitchen window. From here, I can see the back outline of the diner through the trees, where Savvy’s probably already started her morning shift.

My phone buzzes on the counter. Hammer.

"Tell me something good," I answer quietly.

"Progress," my president says, his voice gravel-rough even through the phone. "Ash found a possible witness—homeless guy who was digging through dumpsters in the alley that night. Says he saw the whole damn thing go down."

Something like hope stirs in my chest. "And?"

"And his story matches yours. But he's scared, Crank. Apparently, our grieving girlfriend has brothers who are some nasty pieces of work. They're trying to use you as a payday."

"Should I expect less from humans?"

Hammer barks a laugh. "You and me both, brother."

"So we're still on Plan B," I say, resignation heavy in my voice. “Crossing the border.”

"For now. But if we can get this witness to testify, our lawyer thinks we might swing a plea deal. Manslaughter instead of murder. You'd do time, but..."

But I wouldn't spend the rest of my life in a cage. Or worse.

"Keep me posted," I say, ending the call as Silas shuffles into the kitchen.

"You look like hell," the old man observes, reaching for the coffee.

"Didn't sleep much."

"Never do when a woman's on your mind," Silas says with the certainty of decades behind him. "Especially one you're trying to pretend isn't."

I don't deny it. What's the point? "Heading to the diner for breakfast?"

Silas nods. "Same as every other day. You coming?"

"Yeah," I say, though my gut twists at the thought of seeing Savvy. "I need to be seen."

"Making yourself a target," Silas says, eyes sharp. "Drawing attention from her."

I shrug one shoulder. "Better me than Savvy."

Silas pours his coffee, studying me over the rim of his mug. "You planning to stick around after your bike's fixed?"

"No." The word comes too quickly, too forcefully. "Got business elsewhere."

"Mmhmm." Silas doesn't sound convinced. "Well, that part for your bike should be here around noon. Should be able to finish repairs today."

Today. The word hits like a stone in my gut. Today I could leave this town behind. Leave Savvy to face Victor Hargrove and his nephew alone. Face my freedom at her expense.

"Good," I say, the lie bitter on my tongue.

The diner is packed when we arrive with the breakfast rush in full swing. Deliberately, I've timed our arrival to when the most eyes will be on us. Let them see the orc moving freely through their town. Let word get back to Victor.

Helen seats us at a booth near the window. The usual murmurs follow me through the room, but they lack the fear of days ago. Shadow Ridge is adjusting to my presence, whether they like it or not.

Savvy is behind the counter, filling coffee cups with practiced efficiency. She notices us—I see the slight hitch in her movements—but doesn't approach. Instead, she sends Mandy, the new teenage waitress, to take our order.

"She's avoiding you," Silas observes after Mandy leaves.

"Good," I grunt, though something in my chest aches at the confirmation.

"You two have a falling out?"

I stare out the window at Victor's black truck parked just down the street. Always watching. Always waiting. "Something like that."

Silas follows my gaze. "He's getting desperate. Been calling emergency town meetings, trying to pressure the last holdouts. Says he's got a deadline with the developer."

"What's his endgame?"

"Resorts. Golf courses. Luxury condos for city folks wanting a taste of country living without the actual country part." Silas's voice is bitter. "Shadow Ridge becomes 'Shady Valley Estates' or some such bullshit. And he makes a huge profit in the mix."

"And you all are just letting it happen?" I can't keep the judgment from my voice.

"Easy to stand firm when you've got nothing to lose," Silas says mildly. "I'm old, no family left. My house is paid for. But most folks here have mortgages, medical bills, kids to feed. Victor offered cash. Not fair value, but enough to start over somewhere else."

Our food arrives, brought by Helen instead of Mandy. She sets down my plate, loaded with enough protein and carbs to feed two humans, and gives me a look that could strip paint.

"You're an idiot," she says with an impressive snarl.

I raise an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." She plants her hands on her hips. "That girl hasn't smiled in two days. Fix it."

Before I can respond, she's gone, leaving me to stare after her in confusion. Silas chuckles.

"Helen's been here since the very beginning," he explains. "Thinks of Savvy like a daughter."

I return to my food, trying not to look toward the counter where I can feel Savvy's presence like a physical weight against my skin. This is better. Distance protects her. From me, from what I am, from the violence that follows my kind like a shadow.

Humans can't be trusted. Even ones like Savvy, who seem different. She'd asked for my comfort that night, but in the light of day, she'd have seen me for what I really am. Monster. Killer. Orc. And she'd have hated herself for wanting me.

I did her a favor by walking away first.

So why does it feel like ripping open a wound every time I catch her scent on the breeze?

By mid-afternoon, I've replaced three rotting boards on the farmhouse's front steps. The work is mindless, allowing my thoughts to wander as I measure, cut, and nail. Orcs need constant activity—it's how we're built. In the camps, they'd work us from dawn to dusk, channeling our energy into construction, training, anything to keep us from turning that energy against them.

I've chosen to work outside where I can keep one eye on the diner across the street. Victor's truck has circled the block four times since I started. Message received, asshole. I'm watching too.

My phone rings—Crow, one of my brothers from the club.

"How's exile, brother?" he asks when I answer.

"Tiring," I say, driving a nail with more force than necessary. "How's the search for our witness?"

"Getting interesting. Ash found a second one—woman who works at the bar next to the alley. Says she saw the guy pull a knife on you, heard the girlfriend egging him on."

I freeze, nail poised mid-strike. "She heard what?"

"Yeah, turns out our grieving widow was yelling 'kill the green bastard' right before you defended yourself." Crow's voice hardens. "Human solidarity only goes so far when there's money and fame at stake. She's been all over social media crying about orc violence."

The beast inside me stirs, clawing at my ribs. I take a deep breath, forcing it back down. "Any chance these witnesses will actually testify?"

"We're working on it. The homeless guy's scared, but the bartender... she might. Judge granted a continuance, so we've got time."

"How much time?"

"A week, maybe two. Long enough to build a case that might keep you off death row."

I drive the nail home, wood splintering under the force of my anger. "Keep pushing. I need options besides Mexico."

After hanging up, I sit on the newly repaired steps, mind racing. A week. Maybe two. And then what? Best case scenario, I face a jury who'll see my tusks before they hear a word of testimony. Worst case, I run forever, or they catch me and make an example of me.

And none of these scenarios involve staying in Shadow Ridge. None involve Savvy.

The sound of a school bus pulling away draws my attention. Willie approaches from the corner, backpack slung over one shoulder. He eyes me warily as he climbs the steps.

"Steps don't squeak anymore," he observes.

"Fixed the loose boards."

He's quiet for a moment, then asks, "Why?"

"Because they needed fixing," I say simply.

"No, I mean why are you doing all this?" He gestures to the porch, the recently repaired window, the garage where I've been working on his father's truck. "And why are you staying at Silas's when your bike's almost ready?"

Perceptive kid. Too perceptive. "Orcs don't like being idle."

Willie doesn't look convinced. "Is it because of what happened with Savvy?"

My head snaps up. "What do you know about that?"

"Nothing specific," he says, shifting his weight nervously. "Just that she's been sad. And you guys were getting along, then suddenly you're sleeping at Silas's, and she's all quiet and weird."

I stand, not liking where this conversation is headed. "It's complicated, kid."

"Adults always say that when they don't want to explain," Willie mutters, but lets it drop. "Whatever. I'm gonna do homework."

As he disappears inside, I return to my work, thoughts churning. Savvy's been sad. The knowledge sits uncomfortably in my chest. I thought distance was protecting her, but what if I'm just adding to her burdens?

No. Better a clean break now than deeper pain later. She deserves better than attachment to an orc with a death sentence hanging over his head.

The frame bracket for my bike sits in its box at the door of the garage, untouched since I picked it up this afternoon. I should be working on it right now, finishing the repairs, packing my minimal belongings. I should be gone by nightfall.

Instead, I'm finding excuses. Another board to replace. A gutter to fix. A window that sticks. Small repairs that won't matter once I'm gone, but somehow seem urgent enough to delay my departure for just a few more hours.

Pathetic.

The distant rumble of thunder interrupts my thoughts. Another storm approaching. I glance up at the darkening sky, then at the edge of the roof where a section of gutter has come loose. Better fix that before the rain hits.

I'm on the ladder when Victor's truck makes another pass, slower this time. Through the window, I see Royce in the passenger seat, staring at the house with naked hostility. I meet his eyes, letting my beast rise just enough to show in my gaze. A warning.

The truck speeds up, disappearing around the corner. They're planning something. The question is what—and when.

By the time the storm hits in earnest, I've secured the gutter and moved inside to check for leaks. The farmhouse is solid but neglected, evidence of Savvy's struggle to keep up with maintenance while running the diner and raising her brother.

The sound of footsteps on gravel pulls me to the window. Savvy's home earlier than usual for her evening shift. The rain is coming down in sheets now, and she makes a dash to the porch, shoulders hunched against the downpour.

When she enters, she's soaking wet, hair plastered to her face, uniform clinging to her curves in ways that make my mouth go dry.

"You're home early," I say, keeping my distance.

She startles, hand flying to her chest. "I didn't know you were here."

"Fixing the leak in the upstairs bathroom," I explain, gesturing toward the ceiling. "Storm's bad."

"Yeah," she says, dropping her bag on the hall table. "Helen sent me home. Said the diner was dead and I looked exhausted." A flash of lightning illuminates her face, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes. "Which I am."

An uncomfortable silence stretches between us. This is the longest conversation we've had since the kiss, and neither of us seems to know what to do with it.

"I should go," I say, moving toward the door.

"No!" The word bursts from her with surprising force. "I mean—the storm. It's dangerous out there. You should stay until it passes."

As if to punctuate her words, the lights flicker, then go out completely. The house plunges into darkness, the only illumination coming from periodic flashes of lightning through the windows.

"Power's out," Savvy says unnecessarily, her voice small in the sudden silence.

"I'll start a fire," I offer, heading for the living room. "There's wood stacked on the back porch."

Working in near-darkness is no hardship for me—orc vision is built for night. Within minutes, I've got a fire crackling in the old stone fireplace, casting warm light across the living room. Savvy stands in the doorway, still in her wet clothes, arms wrapped around herself.

"You should change," I tell her. "You'll catch cold."

She nods, disappearing upstairs. While she's gone, I raid the kitchen for candles, setting them up around the living room for additional light. By the time she returns in dry clothes—soft-looking pants and an oversized sweater—the room is almost cozy.

"I checked on Willie," she says, coming down the stairs. "He's going to Jacob's again tonight. Seems to be spending more and more time there." She gives a small, humorless laugh. "Probably for the best. This house has been... tense lately."

The guilt hits me square in my chest. I've taken her sanctuary and made it uncomfortable for her. Another reason to finish my bike and leave.

"Thank you," she says, moving closer to the fire. "For this. And for...everything else."

I don't pretend not to understand. "The repairs were nothing."

"It wasn't nothing to me." She sits on the couch, tucking her feet beneath her. After a moment's hesitation, I settle in the armchair across from her. Safer that way.

"Silas says your bike part came in," she says, eyes on the fire. "You'll be leaving soon."

"Yes." The word hangs between us, heavy with unspoken things.

"Where will you go?"

"Mexico, eventually. But I got word today..." I pause, not sure how much to share. "There might be witnesses. To what happened that night. Could mean I don't have to run forever."

Her eyes lift to mine, something like hope flickering in their depths. "That's good. Right?"

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm just delaying the inevitable."

Outside, the storm rages, rain lashing against the windows, wind howling through the trees. Inside, a different kind of storm brews—tension thick enough to touch, desires better left unspoken.

"Why have you been fixing things around here?" Savvy asks suddenly. "You don't owe me anything."

The question catches me off guard. I could lie, give her some line about keeping busy. But in the firelight, with her eyes on mine, I find I don't want to.

"Because I won't be here to protect you when Victor Hargrove makes his move," I say quietly. "I want to know you're safe, that your house is secure, that you can lock your doors and keep danger out."

The honesty in my voice surprises even me. Savvy's eyes widen slightly, her lips parting on an inhale that I can hear across the room.

"I can take care of myself," she says, but there's no bite in it.

"I know." And I do. She's the strongest human I've ever met. "But that doen’t keep me from wanting to help."

She's quiet for a long moment, watching me with an intensity that makes my skin hot. "Why did you walk away? That night, after..."

After I kissed her. After I crossed a line that can't be uncrossed. After I let myself pretend, for just a moment, that I could have something good and clean and untainted by what I am.

"Because I was afraid," I confess, the words dragged from some deep, honest place inside me. "Not of you. Of what I feel when I'm near you."

Her eyes never leave mine as she unfolds herself from the couch and moves toward me, each step deliberate. She stops just before the armchair, close enough that I can smell the rain on her skin, the hint of vanilla that clings to her hair.

"And what do you feel?" she asks, her voice barely audible over the storm.

The beast inside me stirs, but it's not rage driving it now. It's something far more dangerous—need. Want. A hunger that has nothing to do with food and everything to do with the woman standing before me.

I rise from the chair, bringing us chest to chest. She tilts her head back to maintain eye contact, fearless in a way that stuns me.

"Like maybe I've been wrong," I say, my voice rough with restraint. "About some humans."

Her hand lifts to my face, fingers tentative as they trace the line of my jaw, the curve of my tusk. I stand perfectly still, afraid to move, afraid to break whatever spell has fallen over us.

"Vargan," she whispers, and my name on her lips is almost my undoing.

Lightning strikes somewhere very close, the simultaneous crack of thunder making the house shudder. Savvy jumps, startled, and the moment shatters.

She takes a step back, then another, confusion and something like fear crossing her face. Not fear of me—fear of what almost happened. Again.

"I should check the windows upstairs," she says quickly. "Make sure they're closed. With this wind—"

"Savvy—"

"I'll be right back," she promises, but I can see the retreat in her eyes, the walls rebuilding. "Just... give me a minute."

She's gone before I can respond, footsteps hurrying up the stairs. I stand in the firelight, pulse hammering in my ears, wondering if I imagined the connection between us or if she felt it too.

It doesn't matter, I tell myself firmly. Tonight I'll finish the bike, let Hammer know I’m ready to move on, and I'll be gone. She'll be safe from Victor, from Royce, from me and the chaos that follows my kind like a curse.

This is for the best.

So why does it feel like I'm ripping out a vital organ with each step I take toward the door?

I pause, hand on the doorknob, one foot already over the threshold into the storm. Through the rain, I can see the diner's lights are back on—the power returning to at least part of town. I should go. Finish my bike. Leave before I do something we'll both regret.

But as lightning illuminates the yard between the house and garage, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window—tusks, green skin, scars mapping a life of violence and loss. And behind me, the warm glow of a home I've never had, a woman I can never claim.

I close my eyes, torn between what I want and what I know is right. The decision should be easy. It's not.

With a growl of frustration, I step back inside, closing the door against the storm. I'll wait until the rain passes, make sure she's safe, then leave. One last night to watch over her.

Then I'll do what orcs always do—survive. Move forward. Forget.

Even if forgetting Savvy might be the hardest battle I've ever lost.