Page 82 of Twisted Steel

Savage says nothing, and that means I should keep going.So I do.

“Anyone who sees Harper as a leash, they’re blind.She kept Dante alive, which gave us the warehouse.She answered Reaper’s call and bought Saint a trace.She stopped me from giving the enemy exactly what he wanted.”I step closer.“So you can call her a liability but understand this.You won’t do it twice.”

Crimson’s eyes flick to Savage.

Savage’s face is cold.“You heard him.”

That’s it.Line drawn.Crimson backs down because he likes living.So hecanbe smart then...

Saint clears his throat.“As stirring as that was ...box.”He gestures to the package on the ground, and Harper releases a shaky breath behind me.

I want to turn, but I don’t.Not yet.

Saint opens the box carefully with a knife on the end of a pole because he is dramatic but not stupid.The flaps fall open.Inside is a bloodstained paramedic jacket.But it’s not Harper’s.

Wrapped around it’s a strip of black duct tape, holding down a photo of Harper’s apartment window with the broken latch.It’s a grainy shot of her standing in the bedroom, phone in hand, before she knew how close danger had gotten.

My vision goes white at the edges.

Harper makes a sound behind me, small, barely there but enough to gut me.

Raven steps closer to her, not touching, just near.“Breathe.”

Harper does.Once.Twice.

On top of the jacket sits a phone.It starts ringing, and not one person moves.Savage picks it up with gloved fingers and answers on speaker.

Reaper laughs.“Did she like my gift?”

My vision sharpens until the whole world becomes one target I can’t see.Savage says nothing.

Reaper sighs.“Steel there?Or is his medic holding his balls in her little healing hands?”

Harper stiffens at his word, Raven shaking her head as she mutters, “That’s just lazy.Insult work needs improvement.”

‘Steel, stay still.’I don’t know whose voice says it in my head.Harper’s?Raven’s?Mine?Maybe all three?

Reaper continues, pleased with himself.“I wonder if he touched you with those hands after he killed my men, angel.Did he wash first?Or did you like the blood?”

The yard goes black around the edges as pure, unfiltered rage consumes me.

Harper’s hand finds my back, not my wrist this time, my spine.Her palm presses between my shoulder blades, over my cut, over the patch, over the weapon inside the man.

Anchor or chain?

Raven watches me.Savage watches me.Reaper listens for the break.I don’t give it to him.

Harper steps forward.

“No,” I growl.

She ignores me, eyes on the phone.“Running out of material, Reaper?”The laughter stops.Good girl.No.Not good girl.Her voice stays clean and cold.“You keep sending props because you can’t reach me.That must be embarrassing.”

Reaper breathes hard once.“I can reach anyone.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

Silence descends.Savage’s eyes sharpen.Saint is already tracing.