Page 2 of Vargan

I can't help but smirk. Her spine is steel. Almost like an Orc woman.

Victor clears his throat, pulling my attention back. "Where you headed, friend?"

"South," I say shortly. I don't owe this man answers.

"Where'd you come from?"

"North."

Victor chuckles, undeterred. "You sound like a man in need of a place to land.”

I ignore the comment and glance at Savvy again. She still holding her own with the jackass in the suit.

Victor's voice raises, I assume to get my attention. I roll my gaze back in his direction. “I’m sure you noticed our little town has fallen on hard times. We’re in the process of rebuilding Shadow Ridge. Making it into something special. Could use a man of your... stature. Strong back, I imagine. Good with your hands?"

I study him more carefully. The way the other patrons are watching him with more fear than they showed me tells me everything I need to know. This man doesn't rebuild—he demolishes and calls it progress.

"Not interested," I say flatly.

"You sure?" His smile turns cold. "Shadow Ridge can be mighty unwelcoming to those who don't fit in."

"I'm just passing through," I repeat. "You can keep your threats."

Victor's face hardens momentarily before his politician's mask slips back into place. "Suit yourself." He slides out of the booth and joins Royce at the counter.

Savvy approaches with my coffee, her eyes flicking between me and Victor. Behind her, I see the silver-haired cook watching us anxiously through the service window, spatula frozen mid-flip.

"You should drink up and hit the road," Savvy says quietly, setting the mug down. "Those two are trouble."

"I noticed." I study her face. "They don't seem to scare you."

A flash of something—pain, history?—crosses her features. "I've dealt with worse." She glances at my cut again, eyes lingering on the patch. “You ride in a club?”

“Something like that.”

"That doesn’t scare me either," she says with a small shrug, and something warm unfurls in my chest. Then she's businesslike again. "Ready to order?"

"Whatever's fastest," I tell her. "I'm not staying long."

She nods and walks away, jotting something on her pad. I notice Victor is gone, and Royce is watching me with undisguised hostility. Something about the way he looked at Savvy makes my blood boil. Like she's property.

My ears catch a commotion outside. I turn to look through the window and see two men taking baseball bats to my motorcycle while Victor watches from the sidewalk. Metal crunches. Chrome shatters.

My beast awakens. Every muscle in my body tenses, ready to spring. My fists clench so tight I hear my knuckles crack. They're baiting me, trying to draw me into a fight.

I force myself to stay seated. I can fix the bike. I can replace parts. What I can't do is afford another incident with humans. Not when I'm already wanted for allegedly trying to kill one.

Savvy returns with a burger and fries and sets it in front of me. Her eyes drift to the window, widening when she sees what's happening to my bike.

"Son of a bitch," she mutters. "I'm sorry. They're—"

"Not your problem," I cut her off, keeping my voice even despite the rage building inside me. "Neither am I."

The door creaks again. Victor returns, flanked by his two thugs with bat-wielding grins on their faces. Royce turns on his stool, looking smugly in my direction.

I take a bite of my burger, ignoring them all. From the kitchen, I hear the sizzle of the grill suddenly stop as the cook abandons her post to watch what's happening, her face pale with fear.

Victor walks to my table. "Seems your transportation is having some issues. Shame."

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