Page 52 of Twisted Steel

“No.”

I laugh once, hollow.“You’re right.I’m covered in rival biker blood after saving a man who helped set up my assassination.Fine seems ambitious.”

His face hardens.“He didn’t set it up.”

“But he knew.”I quirk a brow, daring him to start lying to me now.

“Yes.”

“And I still saved him.”What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Yes.”

“Because that’s what I do.”Damn my training.

“I know.”

I look up at him, and the hallway noise fades.Nurses moving.Monitors beeping.Someone crying down the corridor.Life and death continuing like my entire world has not become blood, guns, and Steel’s shadow over me.

“He was scared of you,” I say.

“He should be.”

“He was dying.”

“Yes.”

“You still scared him.”

Steel’s gaze drops.Not in shame exactly.Steel doesn’t seem built for shame.But something close.Something heavy.

“I stepped back,” he says.

“You did.”

“Because you told me without telling me.”

My breath catches.He saw that.Understood it.Listened.

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

His eyes lift to mine.The words hit him strangely.Like gratitude is another language and he knows just enough to be wounded by it but not quite understand.

“Don’t thank me for basic decency,” he says.

“Was it basic for you?”The question is too soft.Too honest.

His jaw flexes.“No.”

That answer does something to me.Something worse than attraction.It makes me see him.Not the weapon.Not the enforcer.Not the violence that everyone keeps pointing at in the world.The man underneath, scarred and brutal and trying, God help me, trying because I asked without having to say the words.

I should step away.Instead, I touch his bandaged hand.Just my fingertips, and Steel goes still.His entire body locks around that tiny point of contact.

“Harper,” he says, voice low.A warning?A prayer?I don’t know.

“I’m not saying this is okay,” I whisper.

His eyes stay on mine.“I know.”