Page 41 of Crusher's Illusion

“You’re not a patch, either.”

That hits harder than it should. I’m not patched. Not blood. Not trusted. I’m the outsider with the dangerous words and the file that started a war. They’re not even being rude, just doing what they’re told. But that doesn’t stop the burn in my throat.

“I’m not running,” I whisper. “I just… I need five minutes.”

Zack glances at Zane. They share some silent twin-language conversation I can’t decode. Finally, Zack exhales and jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Go talk to Steel.”

That stops me short. “What?”

“You want space, that’s where you get it. You go through him. Not through the door.” They’re right. I know they are.

So I turn back. And this time, I don’t go to the common room. I don’t go to Crusher’s garage. I go to the one place that’s always been closed to me.

Steel’s office.

The door creaks as I open it, and the weight of it feels like it could crush me. Like I'm trespassing into something sacred.

Steel doesn’t look up at first. He’s hunched over his desk, covered in maps, burner phones, and bloodstained notes. When he does look up, it’s slow and sharp. Like a blade being unsheathed.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” he says, voice low.

“I know.” He waits. I don’t know what I’m asking for until it leaves my mouth. “Move me.”

His brows lift. “Excuse me?”

“Move me off-site. Somewhere they can’t find me. I’m not helping by being here. I’m a distraction, a liability, and Crusher doesn’t trust me anymore. So get me out before someone else ends up on that table.”

Steel studies me like he’s peeling back layers. I don’t break eye contact. “Why now?” he asks.

“Because I saw something,” I whisper. “And I need time to understand it before I blow this whole thing open.”

He considers that. Then leans back, pulling out his phone and sending a message before crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ll need an escort.”

Crusher walks into the office a few minutes later like he’s ready for a fight. His sandy brown hair is perfectly styled. He’s wearing a pair of faded blue jeans that hug his hips, a white t-shirt, and his SOMC cut. All leather and rage, making my heart skip a beat. He nods to Steel, not looking in my direction.

Steel’s tone is clipped, no wasted breath. “We’ve got chatter that Syndicate eyes are sweeping this area. They’re looking for her now.”

Steel points to me, and Crusher’s grey eyes lock onto me the moment he spots me.

I blink. “What do you mean me? I thought they wanted Erik…”

“They wantbothof you.” Steel’s gaze is solid granite. “But you're the variable. You decrypted the data. And you’ve got Jordan’s files.”

“Where?” I ask.

“Need-to-know.”

“And I don’t get to know?”

Steel leans in slightly. “You’re not patched, Nevaeh. Don’t start expecting Club privileges just because you bled for one of us.”

Something in me flinches. But I nod. “Fine. Who’s taking me?”

“I volunteered,” Crusher says, eyes locked on Steel, not me. “If she’s going somewhere, it’ll be with someone who can keep her alive.”

Steel studies him, then nods once. “You leave at dusk.”

We’re on the road before dusk, the low hum of Crusher’s bike filling the silence like static between thoughts. He doesn’t speak the whole ride. I just hang onto Crusher, feeling his stomach muscles bulge beneath my grip, while my mind whirls on everything that’s happened.