Page 26 of Torgash

"That was different," I growl.

"How?" She pushes against my chest, not to escape but to make her point. The contact burns through my shirt, tempts meto grab her wrist. "You were outnumbered, and I decided you were worth the risk. Now you're doing the same thing to me."

"Those men were nothing. Royce is—"

"Dangerous. I know." Her chin lifts in that stubborn gesture I'm learning to recognize. Learning to hate and want at the same damn time. "But so were you that night. And I still chose to trust you."

A dark grin spreads across my face. Can't help it. "Foolish choice, trusting a monster you'd never met. You had no way of knowing I wouldn't turn on you next."

"Arrogant bastard." But her voice has gone breathy, and her eyes drop to my mouth before snapping back up.

"Probably." I don't move away, savoring how her body responds to my nearness despite her protests. Despite all reason she should run from me. "Doesn't change anything."

She sets my phone on the narrow table beside us, the movement bringing her body closer to mine again. Close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from her skin. Close enough to make my hands shake with the effort not to touch her.

"They've been monitoring my work," she says quietly. "All files I review, each phone call I make. They know exactly what evidence I'm gathering."

"Which means they're already building countermeasures. Destroying documents, intimidating witnesses, buying off anyone who might testify."

I see the exact moment she accepts the reality of her situation. I see her weighing options, calculating risks, and trying to find a path that doesn't involve trusting me any more than she has to.

"How secure is this war room of yours?"

"Swept for bugs weekly. No windows. Steel-reinforced walls. Communications are encrypted and routed through proxy servers. Soundproof," I pause, letting the next words carry allthe weight they deserve. "And it's staffed twenty-four-seven by people who know how to kill anyone stupid enough to threaten what we protect."

"Including me?"

Her eyes dare me to mean it.

"Especially you."

She's quiet, weighing options I can almost see cycling through her mind: pride versus pragmatism, independence versus survival, trust versus a lifetime of learned caution.

And I want to tip the scales. Want to push her toward yes, toward safety, toward accepting the protection I'm desperate to give her. But pushing Nova Reyes only makes her dig in harder.

"If I agree to this," she says finally, "what are your expectations? What do you want in return?"

The question hits wrong. Forces me to realize she thinks this is transactional. That I'm offering protection in exchange for something.

When the truth i, I'd protect her for nothing. For less than nothing. Would tear apart anyone who threatened her just because she exists. Because the thought of losing her sends something primal and violent through my chest.

Because I'm already in too deep to pretend this is about club business.

"I want Royce Carvello's head on a spike." The words come out rough. "He's threatened this town, threatened people under my protection. Now he's threatening you."

"I'm not under your protection."

I step forward again, crowding her against the wall. "You are now."

She wants to fight me, but instinct responds to my dominance in ways that satisfy my hunger.

"This isn't just about club business," she says. It's not a question.

"No. It's not."

"Then what is it about?"

I should lie. Keep my damn mouth shut before thisthinggets messy.

---