Page 9

Chapter Nine

Vargan

I wake to warmth—Savvy's body curled against mine, her head on my chest, breath tickling my skin. For a moment, I let myself believe this is normal. That I could have this every morning.

Dangerous thoughts.

My phone buzzes from my jacket. Careful not to wake her, I reach across the bed for it, checking the caller ID. Hammer.

"Hold on," I whisper into the phone, easing away from Savvy. She stirs, mumbling something in her sleep, but doesn't wake as I pull on my jeans and slip out of the bedroom.

In the hallway, I answer properly. "What's the word?"

"What's your location?" Hammer asks, getting straight to business.

"Still in Shadow Ridge."

"Why's your ass not on the road yet?" His voice sharpens with irritation. "You told me yesterday the bike was fixed."

I wince, grateful he can't see me. "Had some loose ends to tie up."

"That must be one special piece of ass to keep you sitting in a danger zone." Hammer sighs heavily. "Listen, the original plan was for you to ride all the way to Nogales, but since you're still there, I might be able to arrange a pickup closer to your position. We've got a team assembling near the border."

Hope and dread war in my chest. "Timeline?"

"Twenty-four hours, maybe less. Be ready to ride at a moment's notice." He pauses. "You still have cash for fuel and motels? You still have three hard days of riding ahead of you."

"Yeah," I answer, though my funds are running lower than I'd like.

"Police scanner chatter picked up an APB with your description in counties south of there. They're closing in, brother. Stay off the main interstates and stay low."

"I will."

"And Vargan?" Hammer's voice softens slightly. "Whatever's keeping you there, you leave it behind. Once we give the signal, you'll have maybe an hour window before the route closes."

I glance back at the bedroom door, thinking of the woman sleeping behind it. "Yeah." My jaw tightens. "I know the drill."

I end the call, leaning against the wall. Twenty-four hours. After that, I'll be running for the border, leaving behind whatever... this is.

Last night wasn't supposed to happen. Not the way it did—not with such intensity, such honesty. It was meant to be one night of pleasure before we parted ways. Instead, it's become something I can't name, something that's wormed its way under my skin and lodged there.

The bedroom door opens, and Savvy appears in a t-shirt that barely reaches mid-thigh. Sleep-rumpled and smiling, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"Morning," she says, crossing to me. She rises on tiptoe, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. No hesitation, no regret. Just warmth.

"Morning," I reply, my hands automatically finding her waist. "Sleep well?"

"Mmm." She leans into me, arms winding around my neck. "Better than I have in years."

I should tell her. About the call, about the new deadline, about how everything is about to change. But her lips find mine again, and the words die in my throat.

"I need to get to the diner," she murmurs against my mouth. "The breakfast rush will be starting."

"Right," I say, releasing her reluctantly. "I'll be here."

She steps back, her smile lingering. "I know."

She disappears into the bathroom, leaving me troubled by the certainty in her voice. She thinks I'm staying. That last night changed something.

And didn't it? The question haunts me as I dress, as I listen to the shower running, as I watch her emerge fresh-faced and glowing.

"I'll see you later?" she asks, pausing at the top of the stairs.

I nod, not trusting my voice. She grins before descending, and moments later, I hear the front door close behind her.

I check my phone again—no new messages. Twenty-four hours. Maybe less.

To distract myself, I turn to what I know best—work. There's a loose section of shingles on the roof I noticed yesterday. The gutter on the west side of the house needs securing. Willie's truck still needs a final check before it's road-ready.

I throw myself into each task with single-minded focus, hoping physical exertion will quiet my restless thoughts. It doesn't work. Every hammer strike, every turn of the wrench feels like marking time—counting down the hours until I leave.

By mid-afternoon, I've finished the roof and the gutter. The April sun beats down mercilessly as I work under the hood of the old Ford, making final adjustments. The engine purrs now—not perfect, but solid. Reliable. Something Willie and Savvy can depend on when I'm gone.

The distant rumble of a diesel engine catches my attention. I straighten, wiping sweat from my brow as I watch the school bus lumber down the road, stopping at the corner.

Willie hops off, backpack slung over one shoulder. His eyes find me immediately, widening when he sees the truck with its hood up.

"No way!" he calls, jogging across the yard. "You got it running?"

I close the hood with a satisfying thunk. "Take a listen."

Sliding into the driver's seat, I turn the key. The engine roars to life, settling into a steady rumble. Willie's face breaks into a grin wider than I've seen since I arrived.

"That's awesome!" He circles the truck, running his hand reverently along the faded blue paint. "Does it drive?"

"Why don't you find out?" I leave the driver’s side door open and motion for him to sit.

He blinks in surprise. "Seriously?"

"It's your truck, isn't it?" I step out, gesturing to the driver's seat. "Just around the yard for now. You've got your learner's permit, right?"

Willie nods, eyes gleaming with excitement as he climbs into the truck. I fold into the passenger seat, showing him where the gears are, explaining the clutch pedal.

"Easy on the gas," I instruct as the engine revs. "Let the clutch out slowly."

The truck lurches forward, nearly stalling, but Willie adjusts quickly. We make a slow circuit of the yard, his confidence growing with each turn.

"This is so sick!" he exclaims, hands gripping the wheel tightly. "Wait till my friends see this."

"Your sister's coming," I note, spotting Savvy crossing the street from the diner, her face unreadable as she watches us.

Willie parks the truck, killing the engine with more force than necessary in his excitement. He's out the door in a flash, running to Savvy.

"Savvy! Did you see? Vargan got Dad's truck running! And he's teaching me to drive it!"

Savvy's smile seems forced as she approaches. "I saw. That's great, Willie."

Willie turns back to me, his grin threatening to split his face. Before I can react, he throws his arms around me in an awkward hug. "Thank you," he says, voice muffled against my chest.

Something shifts in my chest—a pressure I can't name. I pat his back, uncomfortable with the display but moved all the same. "No problem, kid."

Savvy's expression darkens further, her eyes meeting mine over Willie's head. There's something cold there, something I don't understand.

"Willie," she says, "why don't you put your stuff in the house? Then we can go to the diner for ice cream to celebrate."

Willie releases me and bounds toward the house, energy rolling off him in waves. Once he's out of earshot, Savvy turns to me, arms crossed over her chest.

"Is everything okay?" I ask, confused by her mood. "I thought you'd be pleased."

"I am happy to have the truck working," she says, voice tight. "Thank you. But I need to ask—have your plans changed? Are you staying?"

The question catches me off guard. "What?"

"It's one thing for me to get attached," she continues, eyes hard. "I know better than to expect men will stick around. But Willie hasn’t learned that lesson yet, and I'd like to keep it that way."

Understanding dawns, cold and sharp. "You think I'm trying to hurt him. Hurt you."

"Aren't you?" She jabs a finger toward the house. "You're acting like you're part of this family, like you're here to stay. Fixing the house, the truck, teaching Willie to drive..." Her voice cracks slightly. "But you're leaving. And when you do, he'll be devastated."

The accusation stings more than it should. "Is this about last night? Savvy, I made it clear. I never pretended I was staying."

"I know that, even though I tried to pretend this morning that I didn't," she says, the hurt in her eyes making my chest ache. "And maybe you know that, but he doesn't. Why did you have to play pretend with him?"

She's right. I let myself get lost in the fantasy, in the warmth of her, in the illusion of belonging. "I'm sorry," I say, the words inadequate even to my own ears. "I should have told you right away. I got a call from my club president this morning. Twenty-four hours. Less than that now. That's all I have."

Her eyes widen, the anger giving way to something closer to grief. "Twenty-four hours?"

"They're setting up a border crossing. Once they call, I'll have about an hour to get moving." I reach for her, but she steps back. "Savvy—"

"We'll be at the diner," she says, turning away. "When you finish packing, you can come by to tell Willie you’re leaving. Before he gets too attached."

I watch her go, feeling like I've been gut-punched. Even though I told her the truth, it wasn't soon enough. For the second time today, I've failed to say the words that matter when they needed to be said.

Inside the house, I shower quickly, trying to wash away the guilt and confusion. Savvy's right to be angry. I've been selfish, allowing myself to enjoy their company, their home, without honoring the truth of my situation.

I pack my bag methodically, checking the few possessions I've kept with me.

I understand Savvy’s implication. She wants me gone now. And she’s right. It would be better to leave now. Before Hammer calls, before law enforcement closes in, before I have to see the disappointment in Willie's eyes or the resignation in Savvy's.

My decision made, I sling the bag over my shoulder and head downstairs. I'll say goodbye properly, tell Willie some lie about why I'm leaving, then be on my way. It's the right thing to do.

Outside, the late afternoon sun casts shadows across the yard. I set my phone down on the motorcycle seat as I secure my bag to the bike, then turn toward the diner, steeling myself for what comes next.

That's when I see it—Victor's black truck, parked in the diner lot.

My blood runs cold, then hot with fury. My beast stirs, drawn by the sudden spike of adrenaline. I leave the bike, forgetting my phone in my haste, crossing the street with purpose, every sense on high alert.

Through the diner windows, I can see them—Savvy cornered near the register, Royce standing too close to her, his posture aggressive. Victor sits in a booth with Willie, leaning in close, the boy's face pale with fear.

Red bleeds into the edges of my vision as the beast claws its way closer to the surface. I force it down, knowing a full berserk episode now would only make things worse. But I let enough of it show to make my presence felt as I push through the diner door.

The door flies open, drawing every eye to me. The few customers present shrink back in their seats. Willie's gaze finds mine first, relief and something else—doubt?—warring in his expression.

Victor leans in, whispering something to the boy before standing slowly. He approaches me shoulders back and head held high, stopping just out of arm's reach.

"Is it true?" Willie asks from the booth, his young voice cracking. "Did you kill a man?"

The question hits harder than a physical blow. I glance at Savvy, who looks stricken, then at Royce, whose smile confirms my suspicion—they planned this, timed it perfectly.

I look back to Willie, seeing the trust I'd built crumbling in his eyes. I could lie, but what would be the point? The truth will find him eventually.

I nod once, the movement costing me more than I can express. "Yes."

"It's not what you think," Savvy calls from her spot, still caged in by Royce's presence.

I hold up a hand, signaling for her to stop. "It's the truth, Savvy."

"See?" Victor says, his voice sickeningly smooth. "I told you what he was. A killer. A monster. And you let him into your home. Near your little brother."

"Shut up," Savvy hisses, trying to push past Royce.

He blocks her path, grinning. "Now, now, Savvy. Is that any way to talk to the mayor? Victor's just looking out for the town's safety."

"By harassing a fifteen-year-old?" I growl, taking a step forward.

"Ah, ah," Victor warns, raising a cell phone. "One more step, and I call the sheriff. He's just around the corner, as it happens. Lucky coincidence, wouldn't you say?"

Not luck. Planning. They set this up perfectly—waiting until Willie was present, until they had Savvy isolated, until they could corner me in public.

"What do you want?" I ask, though I already know.

Victor smiles, all teeth and no warmth. "Just doing my civic duty, reporting a dangerous fugitive. The reward money is just a bonus."

"Let them go," I say, nodding toward Savvy and Willie. "This is between us."

"Oh, but it's not," Victor replies. "See, Ms. Greene here has been harboring a fugitive. That's a federal offense. And since she's Willie's guardian, well... that could complicate his living situation."

The implication is clear—if Savvy gets in trouble, Willie could be taken away. Put in foster care. My fists clench at my sides, rage building.

"Victor," Savvy's voice is steady despite the fear I can smell on her. "You've made your point. Now leave Willie out of this."

Victor ignores her, turning to Royce. "Why don't you explain to our orc friend here what happens next?"

Royce steps away from Savvy, approaching me with exaggerated confidence. Up close, I can see the fear he's trying to hide, smell the anxiety coming off him in waves. But he's putting on a show for Victor, for the diner patrons watching wide-eyed from their tables.

"Here's how it's gonna go, freak," Royce says, jabbing a finger at my chest. "You're going to jail. The diner's going to Victor. And once Savvy sees what a mistake she made choosing a monster over me, maybe I'll take her back. If she begs prettily enough."

The beast surges, nearly breaking free. I clamp down on it, hard, fingers digging into my palms until I feel blood.

"Don't touch him, Royce," Savvy warns, moving closer. "He'll break you in half."

"Will he?" Royce smirks, emboldened by her concern. "I don't think so. Not with the sheriff about to walk through that door. Not with your brother watching. He's smarter than that."

Royce is right, and he knows it. I won't risk Savvy or Willie, not even to wipe that smug smile off his face. So when Royce shoves my chest, hard enough to rock me back a step, I do nothing.

"What's wrong, orc? Lost your nerve?" Another shove. "Or maybe you only kill when your victim can't fight back?"

My vision narrows, the beast howling for release. I take a deep breath, holding it in check. Just a few more minutes, and they'll have what they want—me in cuffs, them free to pressure Savvy into selling without my interference.

"Leave him alone!" Willie's voice cuts through the tension. He's stood up from the booth, fists clenched at his sides. "He's not a monster, he's my friend!"

"Willie, stay back," I warn, but it's too late.

Royce turns, his attention shifting to the boy. "Friend? Is that what he told you? Did your friend tell you how he crushed a man's skull with his bare hands? How he left a woman widowed?" He sneers. "That's what orcs do, kid. They destroy everything they touch."

Willie falters, uncertainty crossing his features. Royce presses his advantage, moving toward him. "Your sister's too stupid to see it, but you're a smart kid. You know what he is."

"Don't talk to him," Savvy says, stepping between Royce and her brother. "Willie, go to the kitchen. Now."

"Better idea," Victor interjects smoothly. "Willie, come with me. The sheriff will want to talk to you about what you know about our fugitive friend here."

That's all it takes. As Victor reaches for Willie's arm, something in me snaps. Not the beast—something deeper, more animalistic. The instinct to protect.

"Don't touch him," I growl, the sound barely human.

Victor freezes, genuine fear flickering across his face. Royce turns back to me, sensing the shift in the atmosphere.

"Or what?" he challenges, but his voice wavers.

"Vargan, don't," Savvy pleads, clearly seeing what's coming. "They're baiting you."

I know she's right. I know this is exactly what they want. But as Royce steps toward Willie again, clearly intent on using him as leverage, something in Savvy's expression changes.

"Screw it," she says, her eyes meeting mine across the diner. "Let them have it."

Permission granted, I let go.

The beast rises, not in a red haze of uncontrolled rage, but in cold, calculated fury. I move fast, catching Royce by the throat before he can touch Willie.

"I said," I repeat, lifting him until his feet dangle above the floor, "don't touch him."

Royce claws at my hand, face reddening as his airway constricts. Behind me, I hear Victor dialing his phone, the sound of the door opening as new customers enter—or perhaps exit.

I don't care. All I see is the fear in Willie's eyes, the determination in Savvy's, and the pathetic creature squirming in my grasp.

"Vargan," Savvy's voice cuts through the haze. "Enough. He's not worth it."

I loosen my grip slightly, allowing Royce to drag in a ragged breath. "Touch either of them again," I tell him, voice low enough that only he can hear, "and I'll show you exactly how I killed that man in the alley. Understood?"

He nods frantically, eyes bulging. I release him, and he collapses to the floor, gasping and clutching his throat.

Victor backs toward the door, phone to his ear. "Sheriff? Yes, at the diner. There's a disturbance. An orc just attacked my nephew. Hurry."

I turn to Savvy, knowing our time is measured in minutes now. "Take Willie and go. Get out of town for a few days."

She shakes her head, stubborn to the end. "I'm not running."

"This isn't about the diner anymore," I insist, gripping her shoulders gently. "It's about keeping you both safe. Please."

Willie steps forward, eyes wide but no longer afraid. "We're not leaving you."

The loyalty nearly breaks me. I open my mouth to argue further, but the sound of sirens cuts me off. Through the window, I see the flash of red and blue lights.

"Vargan..." Savvy's voice is tight with emotion. "I can't—"

"I know," I say, releasing her. "It's okay."

The door bursts open, and two sheriff's deputies enter, hands on their holstered weapons. "What's going on here?" one demands, taking in the scene—Royce on the floor, Victor pointing at me, the tension thick in the air.

"That orc assaulted my nephew," Victor says immediately. "Unprovoked attack. We want to press charges."

The deputy approaches cautiously, eyeing me with obvious distaste. "That true, orc?"

I say nothing, knowing just by his disgusted tone when he called me 'orc', anything I say will be twisted against me.

"It wasn't unprovoked," Savvy interjects, stepping forward. "They were threatening my brother."

"She's lying to protect him," Victor says smoothly. "They've been... involved."

The deputy looks between us, clearly uncertain. His partner, a younger man with nervous eyes, has his hand resting on his gun.

"I'm going to need you to put your hands behind your back," the first deputy says to me. "We'll sort this out at the station."

I could fight this. It would take nothing for me to overpower them both, make a run for my bike, and head for the border. But one look at Savvy's pleading eyes has me complying. I turn, wrists extended behind me, while they fumble with cuffs too small for my forearms before deciding on zip ties.

"You're under arrest for assault," the deputy recites. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..."

As they continue reading my rights, my eyes find Savvy's. There are tears tracking down her cheeks now, her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. Willie stands beside her, shoulders shaking with the effort not to cry.

"It's going to be okay," I tell them, though I know it's a lie.

The deputies lead me outside to the waiting SUV. The last thing I see before they push me into the back seat is Savvy, arms around Willie, watching me go with devastation written across her face.

The door slams shut, sealing me in darkness broken only by the flashing lights reflecting off the diner windows. Through the glass, I can see Victor approaching Savvy, mouth moving in what I'm sure are threats disguised as condolences.

As the cruiser pulls away from the diner, I realize my phone is still sitting on my motorcycle—my only connection to Hammer and the club, my only chance at escape. And my time is running out. Twenty-four hours, Hammer had said. Maybe less.

The club will call, and I won't answer. The window will open, and I won't be there. And Savvy and Willie will be left to face Victor's wrath alone.

The cruiser takes me further away from freedom, and all I can think is how I've failed the only humans who ever saw me as anything more than a monster.