Page 13 of Vargan

"I know who he is!" Willie cuts me off. "The whole town knows! Royce was waiting for me after school, told me I better get my sister to get rid of the 'green freak' staying with us, or his uncle's protection might come to an end."

My blood runs cold, then hot with fury. "Royce had no right to approach you."

"Well, he did!" Willie's voice cracks with tension. "And he wasn't playing around, Savvy. He said if that thing—" he jabs a finger toward Vargan "—is still here tomorrow, he can't guarantee our safety anymore."

I'm vaguely aware of Vargan rising to his full height behind me, but I keep my focus on my brother. "You know better than to believe a word that asshole says."

"He's serious this time!" Willie's eyes are desperate. "Why are you doing this? Wouldn't it just be easier to sell and leave? Everyone else has!"

The words hit me like a slap. "No," I say, my voice dropping to steel. "It would never be easier to just give up and tuck tail. This is our home, Willie. Our family. We stand and fight for what is ours." I step closer, gripping his shoulders. "And I never want to hear you say that again. Do you understand me?"

Willie's eyes fill with tears. He tries to pull away, but I wrap my arms around him instead, holding him against me as his shoulders shake.

"I'm just tired of fighting," he whispers against my hair.

"I know, buddy," I murmur, my anger dissolving. "I am too."

I forget sometimes that fifteen isn't fully grown, even if Willie has already surpassed me in height. He's still a kid, carrying a burden that would break most adults.

The sound of footsteps makes me look up. Vargan stands a few feet away, his expression unreadable. It's obvious from his posture that he's heard most of our conversation.

I gently disengage from Willie, keeping one arm around his shoulders. "Willie, this is Vargan. He's going to be staying with us while he fixes his motorcycle."

Willie stiffens. "Why is he here? Why are you helping him?"

"Because he helped me," I say simply. "And because it's the right thing to do."

Willie looks at Vargan, his face a mask of teenage defiance despite the tear tracks on his cheeks. "You're the reason Royce is threatening us."

Vargan meets his gaze steadily. "Your sister was handling Royce's threats long before I got here."

"Yeah, and we were doing fine without—"

"Willie," I cut him off with a warning tone. "Enough. Vargan is our guest."

My brother's jaw sets in that stubborn way that reminds me so much of our father. Without another word, he turns and stalks back to the house, the screen door slamming behind him.

I sigh, rubbing my temples where a headache is forming. "I'm sorry about that."

"No need," Vargan says, his deep voice surprisingly gentle. "He's protecting what's his. Can't fault him for that."

I look up at Vargan, trying to read his expression. "You're awfully understanding for someone who just got called a 'thing' by a teenage boy."

He shrugs one massive shoulder. "Been called worse by better." His eyes take on a distant look. "At least he's got someone worth protecting."

There's something in his tone—a loneliness, maybe—that tugs at something inside me. I wonder how long it's been since Vargan had anyone he cared about enough to fight for.

He turns back to the bike, adding, "Go talk to your brother. I've got work to do here."

I hesitate, then nod. "I'll bring dinner out later."

Inside, I find Willie in his room, headphones on, pretending I don't exist—typical teenage defense mechanism. I let him be. He'll come around when he's hungry.

I spend the next hour making dinner—fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans from last year's garden I froze for winter. Comfort food. Peace offering food. By the time I've set the table, the screen door opens, and Vargan ducks his head through the entrance, looking uncertain.

"There's a shower upstairs if you want to clean up," I tell him, gesturing to his grease-stained hands.

He nods. "Thanks."

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