Page 27 of Elite Metal: Warriors

“We are, none of us, safe.”

“Right. But we are trained. She’s not.”

“We’ll get her training. You know the boss. He wouldn’t use her if he wasn’t sure she could handle it. And judging from what I’ve seen today, she can. Besides, she’ll have to go in at some point,” he said. “At some point she’ll have to face him.”

Sterling didn’t like his expression. “What do you mean?”

“Morrow has been texting her phone. Demanding that she return to the office. If her cover is going to hold water, she’ll have to go in.”

Holy God. A volcano erupted in Sterling’s belly. “And when she does?”

“And when she does, we’ll have her back.”

“Will we?”

Steele clapped him on the shoulder. “We will. I promise. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” A grumble.

“If she joins the team, she’s one of us. You understand?”

Yeah. He liked the sound of that. If she joined the team, she wouldn’t leave him and—

His heart stilled. His mind spun.

And yeah. Fuck. That was it. He didn’t want to lose her. Couldn’t lose her.

Steele studied him. “Are you gonna to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” He turned away, though he had no idea where he was going. Just away. Just somewhere where he could think. Sort this out. It was—

“And Sterling?” His boss’s call stopped him in his tracks.

“Yeah?”

“Take a good look in the mirror.”

Sterling’s brow knitted. “In the mirror?”

“Yeah. Because what I see in your face is the same expression I see on mine whenever I think of Elena.”

Fuck.

But Steele wasn’t done. He leaned in and said softly, “It’s time to let Dancer go.”

The words echoed in his heart and his soul and his mind, twined with the horror of her scream as she fell.

It’s time to let Dancer go.

Release his hold on the past and open up to something new? Maybe something less illusive than wispy dreams and clouded memories?

The thought scared him to death. But somewhere, deep inside, a sprig sprouted. It felt very much like hope. With a dash of need.

* * *

Sterling had to get away. He needed to breathe. To process.

Steele was right. He usually was. It was time to let Dancer go. Time to release the hold her death had on him. Release the guilt. It wasn’t his fault she’d died. Any one of them could have bought it in that clusterfuck. It just killed him that he’d had to witness it. That he couldn’t help her. Save her.