Page 57 of Twisted Steel

Harper ignores him, and her eyes stay on mine.“Are you going?”

“Yes.”

“Will Reaper be there?”

“Maybe.”

“And if he is?”

I don’t answer.But I don’t need to.

Her mouth tightens.“Right.”

My hands curl.“Harper...”

“No.Don’t soften it now.You’ve been honest this whole time.Don’t stop because the answer gets ugly.”

I step closer.“If Reaper is there, he doesn’t walk away.”

She absorbs that, and I watch the healer in her recoil.Watch the woman who called me instead of the police wrestle with the part of herself that understands why before she nods once.

I don’t know what to do with that.She shouldn’t accept it.She shouldn’t accept me.

“You hate this,” I say.

“Yes.”

“You hate what I am.”

Her eyes lift.“No.”She looks as surprised as I feel, but she doesn’t take it back.“I hate what this world does,” she says quietly.“I hate what violence costs.I hate that I understand why you’re going.But I don’t hate what you are.”

Saint suddenly finds his phone fascinating.Savage turns his head slightly, giving us the closest thing to privacy he’ll allow.

My chest feels too tight.“Harper.”

“Don’t,” she whispers.“I can’t handle whatever that voice is doing right now.”

Her phone rings and the softness of the moment dies.

She pulls it out, glances at the screen, and frowns.“Unknown.”

I hold out my hand.“Give it to me.”

She glares, and I glare back.For once, she doesn’t argue.She answers on speaker but keeps the phone in her own hand.

“Harper Quinn,” she says.

Static ...followed a man’s voice, smooth and pleased.“You sound tired, angel.”

The hallway turns to ice.Fucking Reaper.I know before anyone confirms it.Harper’s face goes blank in that way she has when fear hits, and she refuses to bow.

“I’m not religious,” she says.

A soft laugh.“No.You’re not.You’re something better.A woman who saves men she should let die.”

My vision tunnels.Saint is already moving, phone out, tracing what he can.Savage raises one hand.

‘Wait,’he mouths.