Page 119 of Relapse

His hand tightens around my knee, then loosens like he catches himself.

“That’s the problem, Blair. You always want to go. You always want noise, drugs, lights, strangers, anything that feels like freedom for five fucking minutes.” His voice drops rougher. “And tonight, that almost got you killed. Again.”

I look down at my lap.

No smart-ass comeback arrives.

Rude of my personality to abandon me in my time of need.

Mina shifts behind us. “I didn’t think Dante’s guys would be there.”

“No one ever thinks,” Noir says, eyes back on the windshield. “That’s usually how people end up dead.”

Mina doesn’t answer.

Neither do I.

Because what the fuck do you say to that?

Sorry we went dancing and accidentally triggered a shootout?

Feels weak.

Noir drags a hand over his mouth, then finally looks at Mina in the rearview mirror.

“Get inside,”

She nods immediately, but before she opens the door, she leans forward and squeezes my shoulder.

“Text me tomorrow, okay?”

I swallow hard. “Yeah, I will, and thanks, for tonight.”

Her fingers linger for one second before she pulls back, opens the door and steps onto the sidewalk, shutting the door behind her. Noir watches her cross the wet pavement and disappear into the lobby.

He waits until the door closes behind her.

Then he locks the car.

The click sounds way too fucking loud thanks to the drugs assaulting my system right now.

I stare at the dashboard.

My skin still feels too hot from the high, too cold from everything else.

The second we pull away from the curb, the silence comes back.

Heavier this time.

I stare out the window while the city glows black and electric around us.

My high’s fading now.

Not completely.

But enough that reality starts creeping back in ugly pieces.

Dagger.