Page 118 of Relapse

“I know.” His voice drops lower. “Just keep doing that.”

Mina laughs quietly from the backseat.

The sound helps. A little.

Noir pulls up outside Mina’s building fifteen minutes later, tires hissing over wet pavement before the car eases to the curb. For a second, nobody moves.

His hand is still on my knee.

Not soft exactly.

More like he forgot to let go.

Behind us, Mina leans forward between the seats, quiet now that the adrenaline has started to wear thin.

“You scared the shit out of me tonight,” she says.

Something tight twists in my chest.

“You literally could’ve died,” Noir says, voice low and tight. “Do you not understand that? This isn’t a fucking game.”

“Yeah, well, we didn’t.” Mina’s voice is smaller from the backseat, but she still tries to force some attitude into it. “I got her out safely, didn’t I? Like the amazing babysitter I said I was.”

Noir’s jaw flexes.

Mina points weakly toward the windshield. “Besides, last I checked, you guys were the ones getting shot at.”

That shuts me up fast.

Noir stares straight ahead, fingers flexing once against my knee like he’s trying very hard not to lose it completely.

“You should’ve stayed in the fucking apartment like you were told.”

I glance at him. “Noir—”

“No.” His voice stays low, controlled, and dangerous. “Don’t.”

Mina exhales shakily from the backseat. “Jesus, Debbie Downer, okay. I know it was stupid. But can you blame me for trying to help her breathe for five minutes? She was suffocating in there.”

Noir laughs once under his breath.

There’s nothing amused in it.

“Stupid doesn’t even remotely cover what you did.”

Silence presses into the car.

The city hums outside the windows. Somewhere far off, sirens cut through the night, fading in and out between the buildings.

“Holy fuck, its not all on her. I wanted to fucking go,” I say quietly.

His eyes flick to me.

“Oh I know.”

Two words.

Still enough to sting.