Page 35 of Crusher's Illusion

“Me neither.”

We don’t go further. Not yet. Not tonight.

But when I climb the stairs later with swollen lips, a tight ache in my chest, and my heart thudding, I know the story’s changed.

And maybe I’m not just writing it anymore.

Maybe I’m in it. And this story doesn’t have an ending I get to write.

SEVENTEEN

FIRE AND FRACTURE

CRUSHER

You can hear a man’s voice even after he’s gone. Not always in words, sometimes in muscle memory. Sometimes, in the back of your skull, like a pressure point you can’t reach.

Jordan used to say,“Pain tells you you’re still breathing. But grief is how you know you were alive in the first place.”

Lately, all I feel is grief and pressure. Like I’m walking around with an invisible hand around my throat.

The Clubhouse feels colder when you’re the one under the heat.

We’re in Church with the door locked. Blinds drawn. Cut after cut fills the room. Steel, Rock, City, Rampage, Honor, Hurricane, Throttle, and Draft. The patch table is thick with tension, the air choked by unspoken things.

Steel is at the head of the table, arms folded like he’s holding back a punch. City and I flank him on either side. Rampage leans back in his seat, almost touching the wall, chewing on the end of a matchstick like he’s ready to light it just to watch something burn.

Rock and Draft are sitting side by side, glaring at me. Throttle, Hurricane, and Honor are arguing over who gets what Honey tonight when Steel slams his gavel on the table, ending all conversations.

“She should’ve never been brought back here,” Rock says. His voice slices through the room like a straight razor.

“And what the fuck was I supposed to do?” I growl. “Leave her in that loft after she got a kill photo sent to her phone? After Iron Cross targeted our supply line using information pulled from her file?”

“She’s not patched. She’s not protected,” Rock fires back.

“She’s mine to protect!” I snap before I can pull the words back. The room goes silent.

Steel leans forward, fingers steepled. Calm, calculating. The kind of quiet that means he’s already ten steps ahead, and he’s giving me just enough rope to hang myself with. “You’re saying she’s under your protection.”

“I’m saying she’s not the enemy.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I exhale through my nose, jaw clenched so tight it aches. “Yeah. I’m protecting her. And if that makes this complicated, then fine. Let it be complicated.”

Rampage whistles low. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

“You think this is about sex?” I snap. “You think I’d risk the Club for a fuck?”

Rock slams his palm on the table. “Don’t talk to us like we don’t know what it means to risk everything for the wrong person!”

Steel holds up a hand. “Enough.”

The room falls still again.

“You’ve all got opinions, and I hear them,” Steel says. “But this isn’t just about Nevaeh. We’ve got moles. Ambushes. External heat. And now one of our own nearly died.” He looks atme. Dead in the eye. “You think with your heart, Erik. I need you to think with your cut.”

I don’t answer. Because I’m not sure which one I’m listening to anymore.