Page 41 of Vargan

"You have to," I insist, pressing Vargan's phone into his hand. "This is bigger than me, bigger than the diner. This is your life."

Victor checks his watch, impatience creeping into his expression. "As touching as this is, we're on a schedule. Savvy, the truck. Now."

Vargan growls low in his throat, a sound that makes Victor take a step back despite his bravado.

"I'll find you," Vargan promises me, his voice for my ears alone. "When this is over, I'll come back."

"Go," I whisper, tears threatening. "Just be safe."

He hesitates for a moment longer, then turns and strides toward the SUV meant to take him to the farmhouse.

"Well," Victor says beside me, "wasn't that dramatic. Now, shall we?"

I turn to him, suddenly bone-tired. "Let's get this over with."

As Victor drives us back toward his mansion, I watch Shadow Ridge pass by the window—the diner my father built, the farm my mother tended, the life I've known.

Strangely, I feel no regret. No remorse for letting Victor win this battle. As long as Vargan has a fair shot at reaching freedom, the price is worth paying.

Helen was right. The diner, the farm—they were never what I truly wanted. They were just the things I was fighting for because I didn't know how to fight for what I really needed: connection, belonging, love.

I found all of that, however briefly, with Vargan. And now I've given him the only gift I can—a chance.

It's enough. It has to be.

As we pull into Victor's driveway, I hear the distant roar of a motorcycle engine, fading into the night. I close my eyes, sending a silent prayer with it.

Run, Vargan. Run and don't look back.

Chapter Eleven

Vargan

I've always been a runner.

In the camps, they beat that into us early. Run when the whistle blows. Run when the guards shout. Run until your lungs burn and your legs give out, and then run more.

After, freedom meant the luxury of running on my own terms. From my past, from attachment, from anything that threatened to cage me again.

The engine of my motorcycle thunders beneath me as I tear down the empty highway, the wind tearing at my leather jacket, the stars cold and distant overhead. I should be feeling relief. Exhilaration. I'm free, the border within reach, Mexico and safety just days away.

Instead, all I can think about is what I’ve left behind.

Savvy. Savvy. Savvy.

Her name pulses through me in rhythm with the engine. She sold everything for me. Everything she's fought for since her parents died—given away to that snake Victor to save my worthless hide.

My phone vibrates in my pocket—Hammer's number displaying on the screen. I ignore it, twisting the throttle harder, pushing the bike faster. The darkness rushes past, the road unfurling before me like a ribbon of black silk under the moonlight.

I should keep going. It's what she wanted. What she sacrificed everything for.

But the thought of her alone with Victor and Royce, signing away her life, makes the beast inside me howl with rage. What will happen to her after? To Willie? Where will they go, with nothing left?

I've spent years avoiding attachment, avoiding responsibility for anyone but myself and my brothers. Now I find myself racing toward freedom while leaving my heart behind.

Freedom. I've spent years chasing it. But what good is freedom if it means abandoning the only humans who ever saw me as more than a monster?

The junction comes into view, a lonely intersection where Highway 16 meets the old logging road. Three motorcycles wait in the shadows, their riders standing beside them—Ash, Crow, and Diesel, my brothers in all but blood.

---