Page 37 of Vargan

"Assault, for now. But Victor—the man who set him up—he knows about New York. He's probably already called someone." My voice breaks. "They're going to extradite him."

"Jesus Christ," Hammer mutters. "Listen carefully. We've got a team an hour out from your town. I was calling to tell Vargan to move. The route's open, but it’s tight."

An hour to get Vargan from a jail cell and on his way to the border. My mind races, calculating distances, considering options. We'd need to break him out, somehow get him to his bike, then get him to his team.

"Your team won't make it in time," I say, desperation clawing at my chest. "By the time they get here, Victor will have called New York, if he hasn’t already."

"We've got connections in the sheriff's department two counties over," Hammer says. "We might be able to slow things down."

"And if you can't? If the extradition goes through?" I demand.

The silence tells me everything I need to know.

"Listen," Hammer says, voice low and urgent. "Do not do anything stupid. We've got protocols for this. People in place. You sit tight and—"

"They're going to kill him," I cut in, certainty settling cold in my gut. "If he goes back to New York, he's dead. You know that."

Another silence. "Yes."

"Then I can't sit tight," I say, my decision crystallizing. "I'll get him out."

"Human, you don't understand what you're up against."

"I understand exactly what I'm up against," I snap. "I've been fighting Victor Hargrove for three years. I know how he operates, what he wants, how he thinks."

"And what's that got to do with—"

"Everything," I say. "Because Victor already told me he could make this go away. If I gave him what he wants."

Hammer is quiet for a long moment. "And what does he want?"

"Everything I have."

Willie looks at me, horrified understanding dawning on his face. "Savvy, no—"

I shake my head, silencing him. "Your team. Where will they be waiting?"

"Junction of Highway 16 and the old logging road, just past the state line," Hammer says, reluctance evident in his voice. "But this is a bad idea. Let us handle it."

"You'll be too late," I say simply. "I'll get him there."

I hang up before he can argue further, slipping the phone into my pocket. My heart is pounding, but my mind is oddly clear. This is what it feels like when there's only one path forward.

"What are you going to do?" Willie asks, voice small and scared.

I turn to look at him, this boy who's been my responsibility since our parents died, who I've fought to protect from exactly the kind of deal I'm about to make. His eyes are red-rimmed but determined, so much like our father's it makes my chest ache.

"What I have to," I answer. Then, more firmly: "You're staying with Helen."

"But—"

"No arguments," I cut him off. "This isn't negotiable, Willie. I need you safe."

"What about you?" he demands, tears threatening again. "Who keeps you safe?"

The question slams into me. For years, I've been the protector, the provider, the one who stands between Willie and the world. Now I'm walking into the lion's den with nothing but desperation as my shield.

"I'll be fine," I lie, pulling him into a hug. "Victor won’t hurt me as long as he’s getting what he wants. This will be over soon, one way or another."

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