Page 58 of Torgash

Her shoulders are rigid, spine straight as a steel rod. Her face carries that careful blankness she wore when we first met—jaw set, eyes focused on everything except me, lips pressed into a thin line. She moves with sharp, efficient motions, every gesture controlled and deliberate.

This is different from the competence she puts on for witnesses or court hearings. This is colder, more distant. The woman who saw me as just another threat to manage.

The annoyance dies, replaced by something darker. Something that makes tension coil through my ribs.

"The judge is running behind," she says without meeting my eyes, dropping her laptop bag onto the strategy table. "The Garcias' deposition was pushed to noon."

Her voice carries no trace of last night. No acknowledgment of what passed between us, no lingering warmth from the way she'd curled against my chest and trusted me with her secrets.

That's when the worry kicks in. Real worry, not just irritation about being late.

Something happened between when I left her apartment and walking through this door. Something that put those walls back up and locked me out completely.

"Nova." I move toward her, but she steps away, putting the table between us.

"Then we can review the Williams testimony before the Garcias arrive." She flips open her laptop, fingers already flying across the keys. "Their timeline doesn't match the bank records. It’s just like all the others."

I put my palms on the table and lean in. "Look at me."

"The discrepancy could be—" She's blocking me.

"Look at me." I don't raise my voice, but authority bleeds through.

Nova's hands pause on the keyboard. When she finally lifts her head, her eyes hold nothing. No anger, no regret, no echo of the woman who'd whispered my real name like she owned it.

Just cold, empty assessment.

"What happened?" The question comes out rougher than intended. It's not guilt asking, it's genuine concern. Fear. Because this isn't morning-after regret. This is something deeper.

"Nothing happened." She returns to her screen. "We have work to do, Ash. We need to focus."

Her pulse jumps at her throat when she says it. The lie makes her breathing shallow, barely perceptible unless you know what to look for.

But the restless energy under my skin won't settle. There's more than just the cold shoulder and careful distance. Nova's scent carries traces of anxiety, faint but unmistakable to an orc’s senses. It's not old fear from yesterday's threats, but fresh. Recent.

Knox said she'd been in the station longer than usual. And now she's here acting like I'm a stranger she has to manage.

The pieces don't fit. I need to retrace her steps.

"I need to handle something before the Garcias arrive," I tell her, keeping my voice casual as I push off the table. "I'll be back in thirty. Call me if they're early."

Something flickers across her face—relief, maybe like she's grateful for the breathing room.

"I can handle the Garcia prep alone."

My jaw tightens. She wants me gone.

I'm already moving toward the door, pulling out my phone as I head for the parking lot. Knox said no visitors at the station, but something spooked her during those extra twenty-five minutes. Diesel answers on the second ring.

"Yeah?"

"I need you to call Vargan. Have him check with Savvy about Nova's stop at the diner this morning. Who she talked to, how she acted."

"Something wrong?" Diesel's voice sharpens.

"Maybe. Something's got her spooked, but she won't fess up to what." I swing my leg over the bike, engine roaring to life. "I need to know what happened."

"On it," Diesel says, and I can hear him already moving. Twenty minutes later, I'm standing outside Nova's apartment while Knox works on the door I destroyed. The splintered wood has been replaced, new hardware installed. No trace of my violent entrance remains. Kid's doing good work, erasing the evidence of what a monster I am.

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