Page 51 of Crusher's Illusion

And lust. Fuck, the way she smirks at Rampage, tossing that pool cue with that cocky confidence, has my chest tightening. Every move she makes, every word she drops, it’s like fire curling through my veins. I shouldn’t be thinking like this. She’s not mine, not yet. But I want her. God, I want her.

Caution claws at me too, sharp and insistent. She’s stepping into a world that’s mine to protect, a world that doesn’t forgive mistakes. One wrong glance, one misplaced word, and she’s a target. I have to keep my distance. I have to keep my control. But watching her, feeling this mix of pride and heat, I know I’m already losing both.

I catch Nevaeh’s eye, the corner of her mouth curling in triumph. She didn’t just win the game, she won something bigger, a crack in the wall between her and my brothers.

I approach Nevaeh. “Care to walk with me?” I ask, extending my hand for her to take.

She sets the pool cue down and slides her hand into mine. “See ya later, boys.”

The clubhouse hum fades behind us as we step outside. The night air is thick and cold, but the fire pit crackles. I take a seat on the wooden bench beside Nevaeh, the flames casting shadows across her face, making her eyes glow in that way that’s both dangerous and fragile.

She sits close but not touching, her knees pulled in, shoulders tense like she’s holding herself together by sheer will. I don’t push her. Silence has its own language.

But in my head, there’s no silence. There’s Jordan.Look at her, Morrison. She’s holding too much. You know what that’s like.

I swallow hard because he’s right. He always was.

Nevaeh draws a breath, eyes still on the fire. “I… I was scared at the motel.”

The words hit harder than a fist. My hands curl into fists without thinking. I keep my voice low, steady, but there’s steel under it. “I know. I’ve got you. Nobody touches you or Lena without going through me first. MC promise.”

Her shoulders ease, just a little. And maybe that should be enough, but it’s not. Not for me. Not for Jordan.

Don’t half-ass it,his voice pushes.She needs more than words. She needs to believe them.

“I thought I could write the truth, make things better,” she whispers. “But all I did was get people hurt.”

I shake my head. “Jordan… he walked into the fire for people who couldn’t fight back. He died because he believed in doing what’s right. You didn’t make anyone hurt, Nevaeh. You put a spotlight on the monsters in the dark. That’s not on you. It’s on them.”

Finally, she looks at me. No walls. No guarded edges. Just her, stripped to the truth.

The fire pops, and for a heartbeat, I see him.

Jordan.

Not the bloody alley, not the lifeless stare. Buthim.Leaning against the old, rusted oil drum we used to use as a fire pit, arms crossed, that crooked smirk tugging at his mouth. The one that always saidYou’re doing alright, brother.

I blink, and he’s gone. Just the shadows and the heat and the ache in my chest.

I shift closer to Nevaeh, my shoulder brushing hers. She doesn’t pull away. The night feels different now, thicker, threaded with a promise I can’t take back.

Jordan’s voice is softer this time, almost fading:Look after her. Don’t let her regret the world.

I give the ghost a silent nod.

Her trust isn’t all there yet, but it’s enough to fight for. Enough to make me burn down whatever I have to, to keep her safe.

The flames lick higher, sparks spiraling into the dark. She leans ever so slightly into me, and I let myself believe, just for tonight, that maybe we can both survive this.

TWENTY-THREE

RED FLAG RUN

CRUSHER

The fire pops, throwing sparks into the dark, and Nevaeh leans into my side, her warmth sinking past leather and denim to someplace I haven’t let anyone touch in a long damn time. She’s quiet, but her heartbeat against my arm is quick, like she knows this might be our last calm before the storm.

When I turn my head, her eyes are already on me. No armor. No sharp comebacks. Just her, stripped bare of all the fight she’s been clinging to since this started.