Page 71 of Crusher's Illusion

When she finally shifts and blinks up at me, her eyes are dark and raw, but determined.

“You okay?” I ask, brushing her hair back.

“No,” she whispers. “But I want you.”

It’s not desperate. It’s deliberate.

So I kiss her. Slow at first, then deeper. She climbs over me and moves like she needs every inch of skin between us to remind her she’s still here. I let her set the pace. Let her take what she needs. Those soft little sounds in the back of her throat pull heat into my blood until I roll her under me and push in with one clean thrust.

Her breath catches. Her hands fist on my shoulders.

“Right here,” I murmur against her mouth, thrusting deep and steady. “I’ve got you. Nobody else. Just us.”

We move together until her body goes tight and trembling beneath me, her release hitting fast and fierce. I follow her over the edge a heartbeat later, burying my face in her neck as I spill inside her, letting her pull me under with her.

For a long minute, we just breathe, tangled together in the quiet morning light.

Then reality starts knocking again.

By the time we reach the chapel table, she’s pulled her cut on and braided her hair back tight. I take my seat at Steel’s left. She stands behind me, one hand resting lightly on my shoulder.

Steel drops a folder on the table.

“Intel came in overnight,” he says, voice low and clipped. “Duke wasn’t the only one working a deal.”

He flips the top page and slides it forward.

I lift the grainy surveillance photo. Dog, the Sergeant-at-Arms who served under Steel’s father, presumed dead for years, was shaking Niko’s hand in a back lot behind the Iron Cross’s warehouse.

“It was never just about us,” Steel mutters. “Kid got in deep before we ever saw it coming. This goes back further than we thought.”

Nevaeh’s fingers tighten on my shoulder. I lay my hand over hers. Grounding each other.

Rock sparks a cigarette and exhales a slow stream of smoke. “Then we cut deeper.”

Steel looks at each man in the room. Faces hard. Eyes narrowed. Brothers waiting for the word. “You ready to finish what they started?”

Twenty fists slam into chests.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

My gaze lifts to Nevaeh’s.

“It’s not over,” I tell her.

She doesn’t flinch. She smiles sharply, fiercely, and unbroken. “Good,” she says. “I’m not done.”

THIRTY-ONE

ILLUSIONS REBUILT

NEVAEH

It’s been three months since we took down Duke and Bria in a violent but beautiful way. The nightmares are becoming scarce as time goes by. I don’t wake up in a cold sweat anymore, waiting for Bria to come back and haunt me or the police to arrest me and charge me with murder.

The sun feels warm and unfamiliar against my skin, not because it’s too bright, but because for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel like a lie caressing my skin, as I hang up the charity banner across the clubhouse gates.Ride for the Kids/SOMC Community Fundraiserin bold lettering. It’s public and unapologetic. Last year, the club ran this out of a back lot with no colors shown and half the brothers on lookout.

Not anymore. Every Saint Outlaw is in full cut. Every engine in the lot shines like a middle finger to anyone who thought they could bury us in the dark.