Page 13 of Torgash

Jones sits back down. He still looks pissed, but he's accepting her answers for now.

"What about the MC?" another voice calls out. Are you planning to run them out, too?"

Every head in the place swings toward me or Vargan. I keep my face blank, but my shoulders go tight.

Nova looks right at me. "I enforce the law, not personal vendettas. The Ironborn MC will be judged by their actions, not their reputation."

Smart answer. Gives nobody what they want to hear, but doesn't piss anyone off either.

"Any other questions before we move to official business?" Reb cuts in.

No one responds, so Nova sits down. But the crowd's not done with her.

"What about our property taxes?" someone shouts from the back.

"You gonna do something about the drug house on Maple?" another voice calls out.

"Why should we trust you won't bail like the last three sheriffs?"

The questions come fast and loud. Nova's shoulders go rigid. I can smell the shift in her scent from here—stress cutting through her usual citrus scent.

My feet start moving before I think about it—one step off the wall, ready to shut these assholes down.

Nova's eyes flick to me, just for a second. Then she smiles—not fake, but sharp as a blade—and stands back up.

"I'll take your questions," she says, voice cutting through the noise. "One at a time."

And fuck me, she does. For the next twenty minutes, she handles every question they throw at her. Doesn't lose her cool. Doesn't give bullshit answers. Just works through them like she's got all day.

She knows how to work a crowd without pissing them off or letting them walk all over her.

Then old Henderson starts getting loud, demanding to know why she's "really here," and my hands clench into fists. Every muscle in my body wants to shut his mouth for him.

Which is fucking stupid. She handled those assholes in the parking lot just fine. She's handling Henderson just fine too, but my beast doesn't give a shit about logic.

"If we could move to our agenda," Reb finally interrupts, "we have several items requiring attention. First, the county's decision to reopen foreclosure reviews."

The room goes quiet. This isn't news to me—Vargan's intel was solid—but judging by the shocked faces, it's a surprise to most.

"What do you mean, 'reopen'?" Helen asks, her pen poised over her notebook. "Those cases were settled."

Reb shifts uncomfortably. "Judge Wilkins received a petition from Caldwell & Associates, representing certain property interests. They've identified what they call 'procedural irregularities' in the foreclosure moratorium we enacted after Victor's arrest."

"Procedural irregularities," Savvy repeats, voice hard. "You mean Royce found a loophole."

"We don't know that Royce Carvello is involved," Reb cautions, but his expression says otherwise.

"The timing is suspicious," Vargan says, his deep voice rumbling through the room. "The first foreclosure reviews are scheduled two weeks after our new sheriff arrives."

Everyone looks at Nova. Waiting to see if she's on their side or Royce's.

"If I may." She stands up again. When her eyes hit mine, there's no doubt left. Just cold focus. "I've been reviewing the foreclosure documentation since my arrival."

People start talking again. I straighten up. This just got interesting.

"Many of these evictions appear to have been executed without proper legal authority." Nova's voice goes hard. She'sall business now. "Missing signatures. Incomplete paperwork. Court orders without proper judicial review."

She grabs a folder from beside her chair and slaps it open on the table. "I've identified at least seventeen properties where families were forced out based on documentation that wouldn't hold up in court."

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