Page 32 of Torgash

My chest tightens. He was a child when someone carved that scar for entertainment. I recognize the weight because I carrymy own wounds, carved by systems that failed us both. His from cruelty, mine from corruption. Different weapons, same injustice.

"Those weren't laws. That was abuse."

"And what do you call a system that lets corrupt bankers forge documents while elderly couples lose their homes?" His amber eyes burn with conviction. "What do you call judges who take bribes and sheriffs who look the other way?"

I want to argue, but the words stick in my throat. Because he's not wrong. The same system I swore to uphold failed the Bauers completely.

"Working outside the law makes you no better than them," I say finally.

"Working within the law got the Bauers a foreclosure notice." His voice is steady, matter-of-fact. "Working outside it got them their home back."

"And when Royce's lawyers find out? If they prove you coerced that evidence?" I shake my head. "The ruling won't stick. The Bauers will go through losing their home twice. Is that really worth adding another win to your case record?"

He goes very still. His voice turns soft and measured, the kind of control that feels more dangerous than shouting.

"Good to know what you really think, Sheriff. Just another monster padding his scorecard."

My stomach drops. I know that tone—I've used it myself when someone cuts too deep. Suddenly, I'm scrambling. "I didn't mean it like that."

"You waived your fee," I say quickly, trying to salvage the conversation. "Probably covered their filing costs, too."

"You don't know what you're talking about." His jaw tightens, that familiar defensive wall sliding into place.

"I know what I saw." I study his profile, noting the way he avoids meeting my eyes. "You could have charged themthousands. They would have paid somehow, mortgaged the farm they just saved, or borrowed against their retirement. But you didn't."

"Enough."

"Why?" I move closer, invading his space the way he's been invading mine all week. "Afraid someone might think you actually have a conscience underneath all that intimidation?"

His head snaps up, amber eyes blazing. For a moment, I think he might unleash some of that controlled violence on me, pin me against his bike, crowd me against the courthouse wall, remind me exactly how dangerous he can be.

Instead, he just looks tired. "You don't know me."

"I'm starting to."

Something shifts across his expression, vulnerability quickly masked by irritation. "Yeah? And what do you think you know?"

"I know you saved that couple's home because it was the right thing to do." I hold his gaze, refusing to let him retreat. "I know you sat with Mrs. Bauer until she stopped shaking. I know you explained everything twice because she needed to understand."

"That was just practical."

"Human. That's human, Ash." The words surprise us both. "Whatever else you are, whatever you think you are, that was just... good. Pure and simple."

The change in him is immediate and violent. His entire body goes rigid, hands clenching into fists at his sides. The careful control I've come to expect from him cracks, revealing something raw and furious underneath.

"Human?" The word comes out like a curse, dripping with venom I've never heard from him before. "You think what I did in that courtroom was human?"

I take a step back, startled by the intensity of his reaction. "I meant—"

"I know what you meant." His voice drops to that dangerous register that sends a shiver up my spine. "You meant it as a compliment. But you have no idea what you're saying."

"Ash—"

"Humans put me in a cage when I was ten years old." His hand shoots out, capturing mine before I can react. Not painful, but unyielding. "You want to know what humanity really is?"

He starts to guide my fingers toward his scar. "Feel it."

I jerk my hand back, heart hammering. "Ash—"

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