Page 46 of Vargan

As the cruiser pulls away, taking me toward an uncertain future, I find myself thinking about humans. I've spent most of my life distrusting them, seeing them as enemies or, at best, temporary allies. I still don't trust most of them further than one could throw me.

But Savvy? I'd trust her with my life. With my heart.

And if there are more like her in this world—humans who see beyond the green skin and tusks to the being beneath—maybe I have a chance of making it out of this alive after all.

The road stretches before us, leading away from Shadow Ridge, away from Savvy. But for the first time since crossing the Rift and finding myself in a hostile new world, I'm not running away from something.

I'm fighting my way back to someone.

Chapter Twelve

Savvy

Six Months Later

The diner positively hums with energy. I've been polishing the endless stacks of silverware, too nervous to focus on any real work. Around me, everyone moves with purpose—Mandy sweeping for the third time, Helen arranging a spread of food that could feed half the town, Willie bouncing between tasks like a pinball.

"Savvy, the forks are clean," Helen chides, swatting my arm with a dish towel.

I set the rag down, forcing a smile. "Sorry. Nerves."

"No need for nerves," Crow says from his booth, where he's nursing a coffee. "Our lawyer doesn't schedule a call unless it's good news."

"Usually," Diesel adds unhelpfully from beside him.

These two have become fixtures in Shadow Ridge over the past six months, volunteering to stay behind and "keep an eye on things" after Vargan was extradited. What started as protectionquickly evolved into something more—investment, community, belonging. With Hammer's blessing, they've been using club funds to buy properties Victor has been forced to sell to cover his mounting legal fees.

"They're building the first spinoff chapter of the Ironborn," Willie had explained to me excitedly last week. "The Shadow Ridge Clan. Isn't that awesome?"

Watching Crow and Diesel integrate into our small town has been surreal. These intimidating, green-skinned bikers now nod hello to Mrs. Peterson at the grocery store and help Mr. Jenkins with his tractor repairs. They've become...almost… family.

But they're not Vargan.

Six months. Six months of visits to New York for depositions and hearings. Six months of brief phone calls and longer letters. Six months of waiting, hoping, praying that the witness testimony and physical evidence would be enough to clear his name.

The first month after Vargan was taken away, I couldn't sleep in my bed. His scent was still on the pillows, and every time I closed my eyes, I'd see him being led away, hands tied behind his back. I spent most nights on the couch, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I'd ever see him as a free man again.

"What time is the call again?" Silas asks, settling into his usual booth.

"Two o'clock," I answer, checking my watch for the hundredth time. "Five more minutes."

"The phone's all set up," Willie announces, patting the speakerphone we've placed on a table in the center of the diner. "Tested it twice."

I ruffle his hair, grateful for his enthusiasm. "Thanks, kiddo."

The door creaks open, and Helen straightens, her professional demeanor taking over. "Sorry, we're closed for aprivate—" She stops, her expression softening. "Oh, it's just you, Ash."

Ash nods in greeting, his scarred face breaking into a rare smile as he takes in our preparations. "Quite the welcoming committee."

"It's not for you," Helen quips before dashing into the back for more food.

"She doesn't mean it," I say quickly. "We're all just on edge."

Ash's smile only widens. "I know. Me too."

"Any news?" I ask, unable to help myself. My heart is a wild thing in my chest, like it's forgotten how to beat at a normal rhythm.

He shakes his head. "Just that the lawyer's optimistic. But lawyers are always optimistic until they're not."

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