Chapter 13 The Lie Between Us #2
I step into the shower and turn the water as hot as it goes. It scalds instantly. Good, I want it to hurt.
Steam fills the room, swallowing the mirror, the walls, the stench of violence still clinging to my skin.
I lean both hands against the tile and bow my head under the spray. Hot water hits dried blood. It runs pink, then red, then clear. But it doesn’t wash anything off.
Not the rage. Not the guilt. Not the memory of Aria’s wide, terrified eyes. Not the knowledge that the third man in that alley begged, and I didn’t stop.
The sound comes back too easily, the crack of ribs, the wet choke of breath,
my own heartbeat hammering so loud it drowned out everything else.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
I’m not Tama. I’m not. But today, I was close.
If Aria ever sees that version of me, the version carved by Tama, sharpened by loss, she’ll never look at me the same again.
My chest tightens. My breath catches in my throat. I slam a fist against the tile, the impact sending pain shooting up my arm.
It doesn’t help. Nothing does. Not the heat. Not the water. Not the steam that feels like it’s suffocating me.
I shut the water off and stand there dripping, muscles shaking, breath ragged.
When I reach for my towel, my phone buzzes again across the counter. Her name glows on the cracked screen.
Aria: Are you coming back?
My throat goes tight.
Aria: Just tell me you’re okay. Please.
The “please” hits harder than any punch.
I stare at the phone. At the way her name looks under the fluorescent lights. At the small crack on the glass that lines up perfectly with the muscle jumping in my jaw.
I should answer. I should go to her. I should tell her the truth. But the Club isn’t stupid. Eyes are everywhere. Questions are already forming.
If I go running to her now, if I show even a hint of weakness, she becomes leverage. And I become compromised.
I type nothing. Say nothing. The lie presses hard against my ribs.
Because the truth is, I want to go back to her so badly it hurts.
I want her hands on my face again. I want her voice steadying the violence under my skin. I want the way she whispered “Steel…” like it was both a plea and an anchor.
But I can’t. Not right now. Not with the Club circling. Not with the Syndicate watching. Not with danger hunting in the shadows I can’t see yet.
So, I slide the phone face down on the counter and get dressed. I pick up my cut and put it on. The leather settles across my shoulders like a weight and a reminder.
President first. Man second. Always.
I take a steadying breath. The bathroom door creaks when I open it, and a gust of frigid air hits my damp skin, raising goosebumps along my arms. I step out of my room, and Rock is waiting outside. He eyes my wet hair, the bloodless wash of my knuckles, the exhaustion dragging at my shoulders.
“You good?” he asks.
It’s not concern. It’s an evaluation.
I lie without blinking. “Fine.”
Rock studies me a beat longer. His jaw ticks. “That girl’s pulling you off your axis,” he says quietly.
My jaw clenches hard. “I said I’m fine.”
He doesn’t believe me. He never does. He steps aside, letting me pass.
But before I do, he adds. “You keep lying like that, brother, and something’s gonna break.”
I walk away before he can see how right he is.
The moment I step into the common room, the clubhouse noise hits me again. Chairs scraping, boots thudding, the distant clang of weights hitting metal in the gym.
But none of it lands right. Everything feels off-balance. Too sharp. Too loud.
I’m halfway to my office when my phone buzzes again. I shouldn’t check it. I know that. Eyes are everywhere. Ears are even worse.
But the sound of her name pulls at something raw inside me.
Aria: You left so fast… Are you okay?
I stop dead in the middle of the hallway. Her voice isn’t in the text, but it’s in my head. Soft. Frantic. Trying not to sound scared.
I close my eyes and exhale through my nose. It would be so easy to call her. Just one button. One word. One breath of her on the other end.
But behind me, footsteps echo. Draft and Nova head down the hall, talking low, their eyes sliding my way for half a second longer than normal.
They know I’m hiding something, or someone.
And then, Aria calls. She doesn’t text, but calls.
Her name lights up my whole screen. The buzz vibrates in my palm like a heartbeat.
Like her heartbeat. I swear my own stops for a second.
I move fast, faster than I should, and duck into my office before anyone sees the panic on my face. I shut the door quietly and lean back against it.
I stare at the screen. Her name pulses. Calling. Calling. Needing.
I swipe the call away. The sound cuts like a knife.
Five seconds later, her voicemail hits. Her voice fills the silence. “I don’t know if you’re okay. Just call me back, please. Just… just let me know you’re safe.”
I close my eyes. Fuck.
Every syllable cracks something open in me. Something I’ve held closed for years. I shouldn’t listen to it again. I do anyway.
“…please.” Her voice breaks on that one word, and it kills me.
I drag a hand over my face and force myself to stand. My reflection in the dark window of my office stares back. Jaw tight, eyes hollow; demeanor carved out of guilt and violence.
President first. Man second. Always.
I type the safest lie I can.
Steel: I’m fine. Busy. We’ll talk later.
It’s short. Cold and distant. It feels like punching myself in the throat. Her reply comes immediately.
Aria: Okay.… Stay safe.
Two words. And a silence louder than the alley where I left three men bleeding.
I shove the phone into my pocket just as the door creaks open and Rampage pokes his head in.
“Prez,” he says. “Rock needs you. We got a location ping from City on Syndicate movement.”
Perfect. More fire. More war. More reasons I can’t answer the only person I want to hear from.
“On my way,” I mutter.
Rampage gives me a long look before leaving. Not suspicious. Not yet. But close.
I follow him out, boots heavy on the wood floor, shoulders tight, and mind racing. Every step feels like moving deeper into a war I didn’t start but have no choice but to finish.
And the whole time, Aria’s voice echoes in the back of my head like a ghost I can’t shake. “Just let me know you’re safe.”
I can’t. Not without making her a target. Not without breaking the brotherhood rules my father carved in blood. Not without admitting the truth I’ve been swallowing since the night we touched again. The thought of losing her terrifies me more than any enemy ever could.
Rock leads the way into the war room. One of the back offices that we stripped down to bare walls and a heavy table years ago. No windows. No cameras. Nothing but concrete, wood, and a map pinned with too many nails.
City’s laptop is open on the table. He’s perched in front of it like a hawk, fingers flying across the keys, eyes narrowed, and jaw tight. Something in his posture tells me I’m not going to like what I see.
“Talk,” I say.
City doesn’t look up. “They moved,” he says. “Ten minutes ago. Two Syndicate burners pinged off a tower near the courthouse.”
My stomach drops. Aria’s office.
“Any ID?” I ask, voice low.
“Not on the burners,” City replies. “But…” His fingers pause. “They sent something else.”
He turns the screen toward me. A cold, grainy single image fills it. Syndicate-cam quality.
A picture of Aria. Taken from across the courthouse street, hours ago, before the attack on her office. Her hair is blowing in the wind. Her head bent over her phone. Her scarf is wrapped tightly around her neck. She has no idea they are stalking her.
No. No. No.
A low, dangerous sound leaves my chest, almost a growl.
Rampage swears. Crusher inhales sharply. Rock just goes still, as if readying for impact. But City isn’t done. He clicks once, and a second image appears.
Aria’s house. Taken at night with her porch light off. Her silhouette is faint behind her curtains.
Another click.
Her car. Covered in frost. One tire is marked with a chalk X.
Another click.
A message: Ask the President how long he can keep her.
The room goes silent. Utterly, terrifyingly silent.
Something in my spine locks. Something old. Something primal. Something my father used to keep on a leash and told me never to let loose unless I wanted war.
War just put its fucking hand on my throat.
Rock clears his throat. “Steel.”
“Everyone out.” My voice doesn’t rise. It doesn’t have to. It lands like a hammer.
Rampage leaves first. Crusher follows with a clenched jaw. Draft, Rock, Throttle, Hurricane, Honor, August, and Collateral Damage exit one by one. The prospects, Niko, Killian, Nova, Caine, Will, and James follow the patch members out. City hesitates, eyes flicking between me and the screen.
“City,” I say quietly.
He nods and slips out the door. The moment the latch clicks shut, I drop into the chair, elbows on my knees, and head in my hands.
They were watching her hours before they hit her office. Hours before they stole the deed. Hours before, I tore three men apart behind the bakery. And still, they’re escalating.
I pull my phone out with shaking hands. Her messages sit there like wounds.
Aria: Just… let me know you’re okay. Please.
I close my eyes and picture her sitting in that ruined office, trying to hold herself together, unaware that the Syndicate had a camera pointed at her window.
I slam a fist onto the table, making the wood crack. The anger is too big for my skin. Too sharp for my ribs. Too much for the lie I’ve wrapped around us.
My phone buzzes. Another message. This time it’s not Aria. Unknown number. I already know what it is, but I open it anyway.
It’s a voice note.
I hit play. A man’s voice, low, mocking, too close to a microphone, whispers. “She screams easily.”
Something inside me snaps so violently I feel the break go all the way down my spine.
The phone shatters in my grip. Glass bites my palm. Blood follows, but I don’t feel any of it.
I stand, grab my cut, a spare burner, a gun, and I walk out.
Crusher moves into my path, one hand up. “Steel, think.”
“I am thinking,” I snarl. “And what I’m thinking is that someone needs to bleed.”
“This is what they want,” he warns. “They’re baiting you.”
“They already have me,” I growl, stepping past him. “Now I’m baiting them.”
“Steel.” I don’t stop walking. Because now the lie is dead. Now the war is real. Now it’s her or them. And the Syndicate is about to learn the same truth three scouts learned in the alley. I don’t lose the people I care about. Not again. Not ever.
Not Aria.