Page 39 of Crusher's Illusion

Steel doesn’t speak. Just watches.

I feel the words lodge in my throat. “You think I’m working with them?”

“I think you’re a reporter. Who writes secrets. Who wasn’t supposed to publish but somehow still did.”

I back up a step. Like his words are a physical slap. Like they cut. “I bled in this clubhouse. I held Killian’s pulse in my hand. I buried your secrets under floorboards instead of headlines.”

“But youstill wrote it all down,didn’t you?” Crusher’s voice drops. “You think I didn’t see your notes?”

I can’t breathe.

He did. He found the file.

Rock steps forward. “You were writing about us behind closed doors. Field Notes? That’s what you call protecting us?”

“Those notes were forme.To make sense of everything, because none of you talk to me unless it’s through a sneer or a sidearm.” I stare him down. “I’ve had your blood on my hands, Rock. I’ve stitched your people back together and slept with one eye open since the first attack. You want to question my loyalty?Fine.But at least give me the decency of doing it to my face.”

Rock scoffs. “And what, you expect that to earn you, trust?”

“No.” I take a step toward him. “I expect it to earn me truth. Because I’ve watched youallcircle each other like wolves, waiting to see who slips first. I get it. I’m not patched. I’m not blood. I’m not one of your half-naked Honeys pretending to understand your world. But I’ve saved Killian twice, taken threats you don’t even know about, and I haven’t run.”

I turn toward Steel. “If you think I’m here to sell you out, say it. Look me in the eye and say it.”

Steel doesn’t blink. “I think you’re dangerous.”

I nod. “So are you. But at least I admit it.”

That makes his mouth twitch. Almost a grin. But he doesn’t give it. Not yet.

“I’m not asking for a patch. I’m not asking for faith. I’m asking for the right tostayuntil this war ends. For the right tofight back,not be benched while you all decide what to do with me, like I’m already a threat you regret.”

Rock crosses his arms. “Big words from someone who doesn’t wear the cut.”

“Then give me a reason to earn it.” I don’t flinch. “Or tell me to leave. But don’t keep looking over your shoulder like I’m the one holding the knife.”

The room is dead quiet. You could hear a trigger breathe.

Steel looks at Rock. Then at Crusher. Then at me. “She stays,” he says.

Rock glares. “You’re making a mistake.”

“She stays,” Steel repeats, “until we have answers. After that, we decide. But if she keeps saving my men, keeps pulling her weight, she’s not just baggage. She’s an asset.”

My breath hitches. Not because I feel safe. But because for the first time, someone chose tokeepme.

“Everyone except Crusher and Nevaeh out.” Steel orders. One by one, they all leave. Rock and Honor help Killian off the table, while Rock mutters something about crazy ass bitches.

When it’s just the three of us, Crusher glares at me. “You’ve been documenting every damn thing since you walked through the door.” The pain in his voice makes my heart ache.

“Forme,” I whisper. “To remember. To make sense of what this is. Not for the paper. Not to expose you.”

“I can’t take that chance.”

And just like that, everything we were building detonates.

Steel finally speaks. “Both of you need to cool off. I don’t care if you fuck or fight, but keep it off my table. I’ve got a war brewing and dead kids on my conscience. I don’t need lovers turning into liabilities.”

Crusher storms out first.