Page 34 of Twisted Steel

I obey because she scares me more than the men with guns.

The food is good, annoyingly good.I eat too fast, which annoys me more.Steel notices but doesn’t comment.For once, the man shows survival instincts.

When I finish, Mama M takes the plate, and something in her expression softens.“Room’s ready down the hall.The door locks from the inside, and the window bars are solid.Bathroom’s shared, but no one goes near that hall without permission.”

“Whose permission?”I ask.

Steel says, “Mine.”

I close my eyes.“Wrong answer, gargoyle.”

Mama M looks delighted, and Saint looks like he’s filing that nickname away for future damage.

Steel stares at me.“Yours,” he says after a beat.

That shuts me up.I hate when he does that.Adjusts, gives ground, and makes it impossible to keep swinging at the version of him I have already decided to hate.

I stand, grabbing my duffel.“Show me the room.”

Steel takes one step, and I lift a finger.“Mama M can show me.”

A flicker passes through his eyes, not quite anger but not restraint either.

“Fine,” he says.

Mama M leads me down a narrow hallway, past closed doors and low voices.Steel stays behind.I know because I don’t feel him at my back anymore, and the absence is louder than his fucking presence.

The room is small but clean.Bed.Dresser.Chair.A lamp that looks older than I am.The window has bars outside and a lock that actually works.I check it anyway.

Mama M watches from the doorway.“You’re safe here,” she says.

I drop my duffel on the bed.“People keep saying that.”

“Doesn’t make it feel true?”

“No.”

She nods like she expected that.“Good.Safe women get careless.”

I look back at her.There’s no pity in her face, and I like that.

“I don’t belong here,” I say.

“No one does at first.”She nods in agreement.

“I’m not staying.”

“You should.But most don’t.”

I laugh, but it comes out tired.“You always this comforting?”

“Only when I like someone.”

I don’t know what to do with that, so I unzip my bag and start pretending to organize things.

Mama M doesn’t leave.“You should know something about Steel,” she says, and my hands pause.

“I don’t need to know anything about Steel.”