Page 58 of Mayhem

“That doesn’t give you permission to interfere with me.”

“I know.”

“And I’m not going to start asking whether you approve before I deal with somebody.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“You’re making this really fucking difficult to argue with.”

“That sounds like a personal problem.”

Her eyes sharpened enough that I knew better than to add anything else. She pulled her hand away and dragged it through her hair instead, pacing two steps before turning back toward me.

“What happens next time?” she asked. “Somebody gets too close, somebody grabs me, somebody looks like they might swing. Are you going to keep deciding for me because your instincts apparently developed a fucking attachment problem?”

“I don’t know.”

Echo’s mouth tightened. “That’s a shit answer.”

“It’s the only honest one I have.” I leaned back against the wall and gave her enough space that she would not read my position as another attempt to block her. ““I’ll try to give you the chance to handle it first. That’s the most honest answer I have.”

She stared at me for a long moment, anger moving behind her eyes without settling anywhere useful. “So you’re not even going to pretend you’ll stop.”

“No. I’m not making you a promise I already know I might break.”

Echo looked away again, breathing out through her nose, and when she started toward the stairs I fell into step beside her without touching her.

She made it halfway down before stopping on the landing.

I stopped too, leaving enough room between us that the choice was hers if she wanted to close it. Echo turned, braced one hand on the railing, and looked at me like she had spent the last thirty seconds finding a better version of the same argument.

“You understand why this pisses me off, right?” she asked. “I don’t need someone deciding which risks I’m allowed to take just because they care whether I come out bleeding.”

“I understand exactly why it pisses you off.” I watched her fingers tighten around the railing and kept my hands where she could see them. “I also know caring whether you come out bleeding isn’t something I can switch off because you find it inconvenient.”

Her gaze held mine, and the air between us changed enough that I felt it before either of us moved. Echo stepped away from the railing and closed the distance until the front of her jacket brushed my shirt.

Her hand came up slowly this time and settled around my throat.

She did not squeeze hard enough to hurt, but the intention behind it was unmistakable.

“Good,” she said, eyes fixed on mine. “Because I’m still fucking pissed.”

Her hand tightened just enough for me to feel the pressure of her fingers along my throat. She was still angry, but the shape of it had changed. The argument had stopped being about the idiot upstairs the second she understood why I had moved. Now she was looking at me like the new information itself was offensive, something I had done without permission simply by allowing her to matter.

I covered her wrist with one hand but did not remove it. “You can be pissed. I’m not asking you to like it.”

“That’s convenient.” Her thumb shifted against my pulse. “You get to develop instincts about me, interfere when you feel like it, and then stand there pretending the fact that you admit it makes you reasonable.”

“I never said I was reasonable.” I curled my fingers around her wrist when she increased the pressure, holding her exactly where she had put herself. “I said I’m not going to lie to you about it. If you want to know whether I’ll try to think before I move next time, yes. If you want me to promise I’ll watch somebody hurt you because you’d rather handle it yourself, I’m not giving you that.”

She studied me for several seconds, close enough that I could see the tiny shift in her pupils when her attention dropped to my mouth. Her anger had not disappeared. Neither had mine. I was irritated with her for demanding certainty where none existed and more irritated with myself because she had every right to demand it. She had spent too much of her life having people make decisions around her for me to pretend intent erased the effect.

“I can give you one thing,” I said. “If I interfere and you had it handled, you get to tell me I was an asshole. You don’t get an apology just because you wanted one.”

Echo’s mouth twitched before she stopped it. “That was almost cute.”

I tightened my grip on her wrist. “Careful.”