Page 44 of Twisted Steel

“I won’t let him touch you,” I say, and the words come out rougher than I intend.

“I know,” she whispers.

It should comfort me.It doesn’t.Because knowing is dangerous, trust is worse.Trust makes men careless.It makes women stay when they should run.And Harper should still run.

She doesn’t.Her breathing slows after a while.Not sleep.Not yet.Just exhaustion dragging her under one inch at a time.

My phone buzzes with a call from Saint.

I answer quietly.“Talk.”

“The burner bounced off three towers.Bought cash at a liquor store near Vulture territory.”

“Is there a camera?”

“I’m working on it.”

“Work faster,” I order even though he outranks me.

“Good to hear your people skills are improving.”

I say nothing, and Saint sighs.“How’s Harper?”

“Asleep.”

“Are you sure?”

From inside the room, Harper mutters, “No, he is not.”

Saint goes silent, and I look at the cracked door.

Harper says, “And tell Saint his whispering is terrible.”

I bring the phone back to my ear.“She says your whispering is terrible.”

Saint is quiet for a beat.Then he laughs under his breath.“I like her.”

I hang up, and Harper makes a tired sound that might be amusement.“Rude.”

“He deserved it.”

“Probably.”

Silence envelops us again.

“Steel?”

“Harper.”I’m starting to sound as tired as she does.

“Thank you for not killing the man on my fire escape.”

My jaw locks.“He didn’t deserve mercy.”

“I know.”The words surprise me, but she continues before I can answer.“That’s what scares me.”I don’t move or speak as I wait to hear what she says next.“I knew he deserved it,” she says.“And part of me wanted you to.”

There it is.The crack.Not in her but in the clean line she’s drawn between us.Healer and killer.Good and bad.Saving and taking.My world is already bleeding into hers, and now she’s seeing something she can’t unsee.

“Harper.”