Page 63 of Steel's Secret
The cold sinks deeper into my bones, into my resolve, into the part of me that wants to run back to Steel and hold him until every part of him softens again.
That part of him is disappearing fast.
“I’m leaving, Tama,” I whisper to the stone. “Before your shadow finishes what it started. Before Isaiah learns the truth.”
Another gust of wind hits me, harder this time. I stand slowly, brushing snow from my gloves. My breath hitches as I look down at the grave, at the legacy carved into granite, at the weight hovering over Steel’s shoulders every waking moment.
And then I turn because if I stay here any longer, I’ll start begging a dead man for answers he never had. And I don’t have time for ghosts.
I have to go before Steel’s ghosts become mine. Before my secret becomes his ruin. Before love becomes the final nail in his father’s coffin.
I drive to the clubhouse. My hands shake the entire way. The lot is half-plowed, lined with patched bikes and trucks dusted with snow. A few members stand outside smoking. They look at me like a ghost walking.
Steel steps out a moment later. He looks wrecked. Eyes shadowed. Shoulders tense. Jaw clenched like he’s holding the world back with his teeth.
“Aria,” he says, breath fogging the frigid air. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I laugh once. Harsh and soft at the same time.
“You made love feel like bloodsport,” I whisper. “How am I supposed to stay after that?”
His jaw flexes. “I didn’t want this for you.”
“You didn’t want it,” I snap. “But you made it impossible for me to stay.”
He steps closer, the snow crunching under his boots. “What are you saying?”
“I’m leaving, Steel.”
He freezes. Not a flinch. Not a twitch. Just… stillness. Dead, hollow stillness.
“I won’t watch you turn into him,” I say. “I won’t watch you destroy yourself for me.”
He looks away, breath shaking. “Don’t,” he whispers. “Don’t make me lie to my brothers again.”
I swallow a sob. “So you’re letting me go?”
His eyes lift to mine. “No,” he says quietly. “I’m surviving it.”
He pulls me in like his body can’t help it. I hold him like the world’s ending, because for us, it is. Isaiah’s forehead presses to mine. His hands tremble on my back. Mine tremble on his jaw.
“I love you,” I whisper, voice cracking. “But love can’t save us.”
“No,” he agrees. “It’ll kill us.”
We stand like two people holding on to a moment, collapsing under its own weight. Then I pull away, and his hands fall like anchors cut loose.
I walk to my Jeep. Every step feels like betrayal. When I look in the rearview mirror, he’s still standing there unmoving, unbroken, undoing me with the way he watches me leave.
A king alone in the snow. A storm I was never meant to calm. A man I love enough to walk away from.
I turn the corner, and his silhouette disappears. This time, I don’t let myself look back.
