When I stumbled out of the dust-filled cabin, my eyes were streaming and my stomach churning.
I’d shot someone. I was a fucking murderer.
Warm hands grabbed my upper arms as my knees buckled. Strong arms wrapped around me, saving me from crumpling into the dirt beside Archer's car.
I’d just killed a man, and now I was no better than the guys. Blood was on my hands now, and I could no longer turn my face away and feign innocence to the dark, violent world they were involved in.
Princess Danvers was long gone. If this didn't prove it, nothing would.
Maybe I was a D'Ath after all.
16
Steele stood there with me for ages, just hugging me to his body and not speaking. He didn't whisper platitudes or reassurances. He just held me while I pressed my face to his chest and let the adrenaline, fear, and shock ebb from my bloodstream.
His embrace said more than any words ever could. It told me that no matter what else was going on, no matter how much unresolved bullshit there was between us, he was still there for me. When I needed him—and I did—he was there for me, unquestioningly.
When the trembles finally subsided, Steele silently coaxed me around the side of the cabin to where his car was parked. He popped the passenger door open for me, and I slid inside without a protest.
It wasn't until we’d driven away from the cabin—without Kody and Archer—that I looked over at Steele.
"Where are we going?" I asked him. My voice came out quiet and kind of hollow.
I’d just killed a man.
Steele looked back at me, holding my gaze longer than he should have, considering he was taking the mountain road much faster than the legal speed limit. That was something that should have frightened me, given my history with car crashes, but it didn't.
Was I broken?
"I'm taking you home, MK," he replied, shifting his gaze back to the road.
I frowned. "What about..." I trailed off, unable to finish that sentence out loud. I didn't need to, though. Steele knew where my head was at.
"Kody and Archer can fucking clean up that mess. It's the least they can do after hogging all your time today while I was doing the dirty work."
It shouldn't have been funny, but a smile pulled at my lips anyway. He was just so fucking casual about torturing that guy... and about me killing him. Then again, after what Kody had told me about the Tri-State Timberwolves, I shouldn't be so surprised. Steele was no stranger to violence and death. None of them were.
He drove with one hand, dropping his right hand to rest on his thigh, and I stared at the glove he still wore.
"That was smart thinking," I murmured, reaching out and taking his hand in mine. The glove was fastened with a velcro strap around the wrist, and I peeled it open. Flakes of dried blood dusted the leg of my jeans as I tugged the glove from Steele's hand and inspected his skin for damage.
"Arch got them made for me years ago," he replied as I ran my thumbs over his knuckles, reassuring myself that he hadn't just fucked up his hands for the sake of getting my answers out of Hank. "After... after Rachel died, I did some dumb shit. Got into fights and messed up my hands a bit. Instead of side-lining me or trying to fix me, he just got those gloves made. They're like brass knuckles that also protect my hands. Win-win."
I released his hand somewhat reluctantly, turning my attention to the glove I'd stripped off him. The leather was soft, like it'd seen a lot of wear. Despite the violent purpose of the garment, I couldn't help but love it. Not just because it kept Steele's hands safe, but because Archer had done a thoughtful thing for his friend. Maybe he was only a massive cunt when I was around.
"Why did Hank have one of Phillip's knives?" I asked after a long silence. "I thought they were only given to people who earned them in his training program."
Steele glanced at me. "They were."
My brows hitched. "Hank was in his program?" Steele jerked a short nod. "But I thought... Actually, I have no idea what I thought. I guess I assumed Phillip’s training was meant to help kids get out of the crime life. Not train them to be better criminals."
"It was," Steele replied. "But Phillip wasn't always operating with full