Page 32 of Crusher's Illusion

I leave the two women in their peace and find Rock in the garage, chain-smoking like it’s keeping his temper in check. He flicks his cigarette into a puddle and rounds on me the second I step in. “She shouldn’t be here, Crusher.”

I knew it was coming. Been waiting for it. “She’s not a problem,” I say. “She helped Doc save Killian. She’s solid.”

“She’s a goddamn reporter,” Rock snaps. “We don’t let outsiders into the inner circle unless they wear a patch or bleed for one.”

I step closer, voice low but sharp. “Shehasbled. She’s got death threats in her phone. Someone used her article to paint a damn target on our supply line.”

“That’s the part I don’t like,” Rock growls. “Someone used her intel. Her writing. Her connections. And now we’ve got bodies dropping.”

I stare at him. “You think she’s the mole?”

Rock exhales through his nose. “No. But I think she’s a liability. And we’re already running thin on trust. She’s got guts. I’ll give her that. But guts don’t make her family.”

“She’s not trying to be family,” I snap. “She’s trying to survive.”

“Yeah? Well, so is Killian.”

There’s a long beat between us. “She’s in this, Rock. Whether we like it or not. And if we keep treating her like an enemy, she’s going to start acting like one.”

“You think I don’t see it? The way you look at her? That's the danger. You’re not thinking straight, Crusher. She’s not patched. Not protected. That makes her a target, and us weaker.” He turns and starts pacing again. “I’m watching her,” he mutters. “You should, too.”

I leave Rock to his pacing and stewing and find Nevaeh outside the infirmary, sitting on the bench with her knees pulled up slightly, still in my hoodie.

She looks up when I approach, and for a moment, I see exhaustion creeping past her armor. She stares at the dried blood stains on her hands before blinking and looking at me.

“Doc says he’ll pull through.”

“Thanks to you.” I nudge her with my shoulder.

Nevaeh shakes her head. “Thanks to her.”

Nevaeh plucks a splinter from the bench and rolls it between her fingers. “Have you ever wished you were just a mechanic?”

I smirk. “Only every other Tuesday.”

She snorts, then catches herself. “Sorry. That wasn’t funny.”

“No, it was,” I say. “I just forgot I could laugh.”

“Rock doesn’t trust me,” she says. It’s not a question.

“He doesn’t trustanyonenew. Especially not right now.”

Nevaeh nods slowly. “I get it. But I’m not trying to be a problem.”

“You’re not,” I say. “You’re just a mirror. And most of us don’t like what we see in one.”

She leans her head back against the wall. “If I’m going to stay, I need to know this won’t be a witch hunt.”

“You’re not under fire.”

“Maybe not from you.”

I don’t have a lie to give her. So I give her the only truth that matters. “You’ve got me.”

Her breath hitches, just a little. Then she nods. “That’s enough. For now.”

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