Page 62 of Torgash

"Nova—"

"You already knew." Her voice goes flat. Dead. "When I told you about Carman, you already knew."

The betrayal in her eyes cuts deeper than any blade. She thinks I manipulated her into opening up about her sister.

"Background checks are routine—"

"Don't." She sets down her coffee cup with careful control. "Just don't."

Before I can explain—before I can tell her it didn't matter what I knew because hearing it from her was everything—Savvy appears beside our table.

"Nova," she says, voice sharp with authority. "Helen needs to see you in the kitchen. Something about the Bauer family."

Nova looks grateful for the escape, sliding out of the booth fast. "Of course."

Savvy's eyes meet mine as Nova heads toward the kitchen. Pure warning in that look.

I want to follow Nova. Corner her. Shake her until she spills what happened in that office. I want to hunt down Royce and rip his fucking throat out.

But Savvy's right. I push harder, and Nova shuts down completely.

I leave cash on the table and walk out. She's made her choice—handle this shit alone.

Twelve minutes back to the clubhouse. The restless energy paces behind my ribs, wanting blood. Wanting to tear apart everything that's hurting her.

Royce used her sister against her. Had to be. Hit her where it would destroy her—Carman's memory, her guilt, her need for justice.

And I fucked it up worse by letting slip I already knew. Christ. She thinks I manipulated her into confessing something I already had intel on.

Smart move, asshole. Real fucking tactical.

She's alone now. Completely cut off. Can't trust me, can't trust anyone. Exactly what Royce wanted.

Perfect fucking strategy. Isolate the target, eliminate support systems, apply pressure until they break.

Except he miscalculated one thing.

I park behind the clubhouse, hands locked on the handlebars so tight the metal bends. Nova's in trouble. She won't let me help. Sees me as another threat instead of the monster who'd burn the world down to keep her safe.

She needs protection, whether she wants it or not.

Royce thinks he neutralized the MC threat by turning her against me.

Stupid fuck has no idea what he just unleashed.

I don't need her permission to hunt.

Chapter Twelve

Nova

I've been staring at Derek Sullivan's photograph for three hours.

I haven't moved from this kitchen chair since I got home. Haven't opened the folder again. Haven't touched the burner phone Royce left beside it. Haven't done anything except stare at the face of my sister's killer and catalog every reason this deal will damn me.

Derek Sullivan. David Martinez now. Current address, employment records, daily routine documented like a fucking case file. Six years of hunting him, and now I have it all. Address. Work schedule. The name of the coffee shop where he gets his morning latte.

Except I don't have shit.

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