Page 50 of Crusher's Illusion

City nods, eyes narrowing like he’s weighing her. “Long as she doesn’t screw us, I’m good.”

“Noted,” she says, meeting his look without flinching.

Rock grunts, a low, noncommittal sound, but his eyes stay on her for a beat longer before he goes back to nursing his drink. It’s not approval, but it’s not dismissal either. Around here, that’s the first step.

Then Rampage pushes off his stool, grabs a pool cue from the wall, and tosses it underhand to Nevaeh. “You any good?”

She catches it without fumbling, which already earns her a couple of raised brows. “Guess we’ll find out,” she says, stepping toward the table.

City exchanges a quick glance with Rock. One of those silent MC conversations that says,Let’s see what she’s made of.

The shift’s small, but I can feel it in the air. She’s not just the outsider anymore. She’s being tested. And if she passes? She’s in the room for real.

Rampage leans one hip against the table, twirling his cue like he’s about to hustle a tourist. “Eight ball, standard rules. Loser buys the next round.”

Nevaeh lines up the balls, her expression all faux innocence. “You sure you want to bet on this? Could get embarrassing.”

City chuckles, pulling a crumpled twenty from his wallet and slapping it on the edge of the table. “Yeah? You planning to wipe the floor with our boy here?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve beaten a man at his own game,” she says, chalking her cue like she’s done it a thousand times.

Rampage narrows his eyes, but there’s a spark there, respect, maybe. “Ladies first.”

She breaks hard. The crack echoes across the clubhouse, scattering balls in every direction. Two solids drop in the corner pocket.

“Damn,” City mutters, leaning forward like he just saw a magic trick.

Rampage straightens, lips twitching. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Mm-hm.” Nevaeh walks around the table, sizing up her next shot like she’s got all night. “That's what you tell yourself when you’re losing?”

Even Rock makes a short, surprised huff that might be a laugh if you tilt your head and squint.

Rampage watches her sink another ball, then another. His grin sharpens. “Alright, Queen of the Felt. Let’s see how you handle pressure.”

He lines up a tricky corner shot and nails it, knocking one of her solids into the rail on the way. “Whoops,” he says, all fake apology.

Nevaeh doesn’t flinch. Just circles the table, hips swaying, drawing my attention to her ass. An ass I’d like to take to my room and have a repeat of the night before she ran off on me. Rampage’s smirk falters.

“Nice shot,” she says smoothly. “Here’s mine.”

The cue ball clicks, the solid drops, and she straightens without even watching it fall. “Guess I’m solids.”

City’s eyebrows shoot up. “Guess you are.”

They go back and forth for a few turns, but when she finally calls “Eight ball, side pocket,” the table goes quiet. She sinks it clean, no hesitation.

Rampage throws his head back and laughs, the sound rough but real. “Well, shit. Didn’t see that coming.”

“Pay up,” she says, tapping the twenty on the rail.

City slides it over with a low whistle. “Alright, I’ll say it. You got game.”

Rock just grunts, but this time it’s with a small nod. Around here, that’s practically a hug.

I can’t take my eyes off her. The way she moves, the way she talks, holding her own with Rampage and City like she’s been part of this family her whole life. It hits me in a way that twists my gut.

Pride? Yeah, I feel it. She’s sharp, fearless, and clever. That’s my girl, or at least, she could be, if I didn’t have to keep one eye on the danger she’s stepping into.