Page 70 of Crusher's Illusion

“She wasn’t supposed to survive the first grab. They said the reporter is becoming a liability.”

My blood turns to ice. I lean closer, voice low enough to strip the meat from his bones. “Give me a name. Or I’ll start working higher.”

Duke’s head drops. A ragged whisper leaves his lips. “Bria Thatcher. She took Syndicate money. Sold your prospect. Sold the girl. Said it was business.”

I nod. “Good.”

Then I put a single bullet through Duke’s forehead, because I’ve heard everything I need. Duke’s body jerks with the last spasm and goes still. It’s quiet in the basement except for the ticking of Rock’s lighter as he flicks it shut and pockets it again.

I wipe the hammer clean. I should feel better, but I don’t.

Steel unlocks the door. “Let’s move.”

By the time we climb the stairs and hit the top landing, something’s off. The house is too quiet. The common room too still.

Nevaeh’s purse is missing, and so is her 9 Mil. My chest grows cold. She already knows.

I find Nevaeh an hour later in the parking lot outside Bria’s apartment building. The complex is half-lit, one streetlamp flickering like a bad pulse. Somewhere, a baby is crying behind thin drywall.

Nevaeh’s cheeks are wet, but her hands don’t shake. Bria’s on her knees, mascara running, mouth gagged with her own scarf. Nevaeh stands behind her, gun pressed to the back of Bria’s skull.

Nevaeh doesn’t even look at me when I step up beside her.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Nevaeh says, softly.

“I know I should,” I reply. “You’re not alone in this.”

Nevaeh’s lips tremble, but her grip never loosens. “She gave them everything. My meeting spots. My sister’s number. She set Niko up so they could flip him.”

Bria chokes against the gag. Nevaeh ignores her. She turns her face to mine. She’s shattered and furious and steady all at once.

“You said we would finish it together.”

“Yeah,” I breathe. “So finish it.”

Nevaeh pulls the trigger.

Bria’s body hits the pavement with nothing left to say.

Nevaeh’s legs give for half a second, and I catch her before she hits the ground. Her hands fist in my cut, and she shatters against my chest, silent, hard, shaking. I don’t say a word. I just hold her. Because love, real love, isn’t soft. Sometimes it’s standing next to someone while they burn the world that tried to break them.

We ride back in silence. Nobody talks about what Nevaeh just did. Nobody needs to. Rock, Honor, and Draft stay behind to clean up the body and leave no evidence behind. The cops will think it’s a Syndicate deal gone bad.

In the quiet of my room at the clubhouse, Nevaeh curls against me. Scars on scars, truth laid bare. “They took everything from me,” she whispers. “But they didn’t break me.”

“No,” I say, pressing my lips to her temple. “They made the mistake of turning you into one of us.”

She looks up at me, eyes raw. “You’re sure you want that?”

I drag my thumb across her cheek, wiping away the last of someone else’s blood. “I don’twantit. Ineedit.”

Her mouth lifts in something that’s more promise than smile. She pushes me back onto the bed and climbs over me, kissing like she’s trying to brand her name into my bones. We moveroughly at first, then slower. Flesh against flesh. My hands in her hair. Her nails on my shoulders. No fear. No hesitation.

Just truth. Just us.

Light filters through the blinds, pale and gold across the sheets. Nevaeh’s still wrapped around me, her thigh thrown over my hip, her face tucked against my throat like she’s trying to anchor herself to something solid. She didn’t really sleep last night. She drifted in and out, every time her breath hitching like she was back in the alley, pulling the trigger on Bria all over again.

I don’t wake her at first. I just hold her. My thumb strokes slowly over the curve of her lower back until the tension in her eases, just a little.