Page 48 of Torgash

"And if Royce moves first? Eliminates the threat before she can use what she's gathered?" Hammer counters.

The thought sends ice through my veins. "Then we handle it. But Nova gets to fight this her way first."

"Because you're going soft on a human sheriff?" Hammer's voice goes flat.

Heat crawls up my neck. Hammer's writing off Nova like she's some civilian who's got me twisted around her finger instead of the sheriff who's built a bulletproof case so fast.

"Because she's good at her job, and the legal route keeps us clean when this goes federal," I tell him.

"Uh-huh." Hammer's testing me. "How good at her job is she?"

Sharp enough to build an airtight case in three days. Smart enough to see patterns other investigators missed. Stubbornenough to keep fighting when anyone reasonable would have accepted the threats and backed down.

"Skilled enough to make Shadow Ridge untouchable for the next son of a bitch who thinks of following in Royce's footsteps," I tell Hammer.

Hammer goes quiet. I can practically hear him calculating moves and countermoves.

"Then we give her the room to work. But Ash?" Hammer's voice turns hard. "You make this work. Whatever it takes. Club's invested too much in this town to lose it because some corrupt prick got lucky with an ambush."

After Hammer ends the call, I sit staring at the phone. The weight of club expectations pressing against something more personal, more urgent. They want Nova protected because she's useful. I want her protected because—

Because what? Because she said my real name without flinching? Because she surrendered to me completely, trusting me with her pleasure and her vulnerability? Because every time I think about losing her, something vicious and possessive snarls in my chest like something vital is being ripped away.

The war room door opens again. Vargan fills the doorway, massive even by orc standards, hardened face grim with whatever news he's carrying.

"Morris surfaced," he says, jaw tight.

I straighten. "Where?"

"Atlanta. Meeting with a lawyer from Pierce & Associates." Vargan drops into the chair Diesel vacated, metal protesting under his weight. "Same firm handling Royce's property transfers."

Shit. Morris is selling everything he knows. "What's he trading?"

"Department procedures, security protocols, which judges take bribes." Vargan's expression darkens. "Plus every backdoor Dawson built into the system."

My hands clench. Morris knows the sheriff stations' weak spots, the corrupt channels Nova's trying to shut down. He's handing Royce a roadmap to destroy her case.

"Santos know?"

"Santos figured it out when Morris cleaned out his locker. Been waiting for him to surface somewhere." Vargan glances at his phone. "But here's the thing—Morris doesn't know Nova's been operating from here."

Thank the gods for small favors. Everything we've built stays secret.

"We need to move fast," I tell Vargan. "Before that piece of shit connects the dots."

"Crow's already on it. Got three witnesses willing to testify, documentation that proves the fraudulent transfers." Vargan pulls up his sleeve to check his watch. "But we're talking hours, not days, before Royce realizes his intelligence is outdated."

Hours. Damn. Maybe less, if Morris starts comparing notes with whoever's been watching Nova's place.

"Where's Nova now?"

"Her apartment. Said she needed clean clothes and space to think." Vargan scrolls through his messages. "Got prospect Knox keeping watch from the street."

Should be enough. Knox is solid, building's secure, threats contained. Everything handled.

Except the restless thing in my chest won't stop pacing. Won't accept that Nova's safe just because some kid with good intentions is parked across the street. She's alone right now, processing what happened between us, and hell knows what conclusions she's drawing. Whether she'll decide trusting mewas smart or the biggest mistake she's made since coming to Shadow Ridge.

My instincts scream at me to stay put. Let her think without me hovering like some possessive piece of shit who can't handle five minutes of separation.

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