Page 10 of Thor

"Could you ask your granddaughter to deliver this to the children's ward? Anonymous donation."

Martha stared at the envelope. "But this is too much—"

"Kids in hospitals need distractions," I interrupted, my tone making it clear this wasn't up for debate. "Games help. Books help." I thought of my own childhood, endless hours in waiting rooms while my mother worked double shifts. "It's not charity. It's just . . . right."

Before leaving, I programmed my number into Martha's phone under "Thor—Motorcycle Mechanic" with clear instructions to call if her car gave her any trouble before she could get it to a shop.

"At least tell me your last name," she insisted as I prepared to leave. "Or the name of your shop, so I can recommend it."

"Just Thor is fine," I said, shaking my head. "And don't worry about the shop. We'll find each other if needed."

Back on my bike, I felt the familiar weight return to my shoulders—the enforcer, the protector, the man who kept rival MCs in check with nothing but his reputation for violence. I'd delayed my patrol for Martha, acting on instinct rather than duty. Duke would understand, but it wasn't something I'd share with the brothers.

As I turned toward the northern border to complete my original mission, I knew no member of the Heavy Kings would ever hear about tonight's detour. The feared Thor Eriksson making midnight repairs for stranded grandmothers and anonymous donations to children's hospitals wasn't the reputation that kept enemies at bay.

But as I opened the throttle, scanning the darkness for signs of Serpent activity, I felt more centered than before. The hidden gentleness inside me had been acknowledged, briefly set free, before being locked away again behind my warrior's mask. Maybe that's why I'd noticed something similar in Mandy's eyes—the careful hiding of a softer self beneath a necessary armor.

My hand instinctively touched the key hanging beneath my shirt as I rode. Some secrets shaped us more than the faces we showed the world. Tonight I'd let a small piece of mine breathe in the open air, and somehow, it had made me stronger rather than weaker.

I eased the bike around a sharp curve, mind returning to club business and the potential Serpent threat. Time to be Thor the enforcer again. But for a few stolen moments with Martha, I'd been someone else—someone closer to the man I kept hidden behind locked doors in my empty cabin. And that hidden man, I realized, was as much a part of me as the Viking warrior the world feared.

Chapter 3

Mandy

SinceI’dstartedmoonlightingfor the Heavy Kings, I’d found it even harder to focus at work. The numbers kept blurring together, like my two realities were bleeding into each other.

It didn’t help that I had been staying up even later recently, desperately trying to find the time I needed to fulfill all my responsibilities. With visits to Amy, my work at Prestige, and the time it was taking to set up the investment portfolio for the Kings, I barely had the time to brush my teeth, or eat.

Now, in the office, late in the evening, I was struggling to keep it together. I was working on the Peterson Holdings tax return. I'd read the same column five times, but none of it stuck. My mind kept drifting to the Heavy Kings' accounts—how Duke needed those quarterly projections by Friday, and how the club's legitimate businesses needed restructuring to maximize their tax benefits. The spreadsheet in front of me belonged to Prestige Partners, but my thoughts belonged to the MC.

"Focus, Mandy," I muttered, rubbing my tired eyes. The office had emptied hours ago, leaving me alone with the gentle hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional ping of a late-night email. My coffee had gone cold, a sad metaphor for my concentration.

I forced myself to type another formula into the spreadsheet, then rubbed my eyes, trying to wake myself up. Just then, my phone rang, shattering the quiet. I jumped, knocking over the cold coffee. As it pooled around client folders, I lunged for the phone.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Wright? This is Nurse Reyes from Ironridge Memorial." The woman's voice was calm but urgent. "It's about your sister, Amy."

My stomach dropped. "What happened?"

"She's had a severe reaction to her latest treatment. Her blood pressure dropped dangerously low, and we've had to administer emergency medications. She's asking for you."

The world tilted sideways. Amy—my little sister, my responsibility—was all I had left after our parents died. Her leukemia diagnosis six months ago had been devastating enough.

"I'll be right there," I said, already on my feet.

"Please drive safely, Ms. Wright. She's stabilized for now."

I hung up and grabbed my purse from under my desk, not registering that it was my casual weekend bag, not my work tote. My hands shook as I jammed folders into my laptop bag, coffee still dripping onto the expensive carpet. I'd clean it tomorrow. Or never. It didn't matter.

The elevator felt impossibly slow. I jabbed the button repeatedly, my breath coming in short bursts. When the doors finally opened, I practically ran through the lobby, my heels clicking frantically on the marble floor. The night security guard called something after me, but his words dissolved in the rush of blood pounding in my ears.

Outside, fat raindrops pelted my face. Perfect. Fucking perfect. The storm had been threatening all day, and now it unleashed with theatrical timing. I sprinted to my silver Audi in the parking garage, my blouse sticking to my skin before I'd gone twenty feet.

Inside the car, I tossed my bags onto the passenger seat and fumbled with the keys. A small, stuffed unicorn keychain tumbled from my purse. I shoved it back into my bag without looking, my cheeks burning despite no one being there to witness it.

The engine roared to life, and I reversed too quickly, nearly hitting a concrete pillar. "Get it together," I hissed at myself, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles whitened.

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