Page 88 of Relapse

“No,” Noir says, tapping ash into the tray near the balcony door. “It was me not answering it.”

The air tightens between them instantly.

Not full violence.

At least not yet.

But enough that even I feel it from halfway down the hall.

“Boys,” I call lightly. “As fun as whatever emotionally repressed pissing contest this is, I’m going to shower before one of you starts measuring trauma.”

Noir’s eyes flick briefly to me.

Something unreadable passes across his face.

Then he smiles again.

“Don’t miss me too much, little addict.”

“Tragic news,” I say, backing farther into the hallway. “I already forgot you existed.”

“Liar.”

Dagger doesn’t laugh.

He keeps watching Noir like he’s trying to decide whether to push harder or let it go.

Noir grabs his jacket off the back of the couch, still maddeningly calm.

“I said I’ll be quick.”

Then he slips out before Dagger can question him again.

The apartment door shuts behind him with a quiet click.

For a second, Dagger just stands there staring at it, and I head down the hallway still clutching my duffle bag, grin fading slower than I want it to.

***

The shower ends up taking longer than I mean for it to.

Mostly because the hot water feels too good after the last few days.

Steam fills the bathroom while I scrub rave glitter, smoke, and the lingering scent of Noir off my skin, though honestly that last part takes more effort than expected.

Not that I’m complaining.

The mirror fogs completely while my thoughts spiral somewhere dangerous again.

Brynn.

Dante.

The city.

The way both men keep looking at me now like they’re terrified I’ll disappear if they blink too long.

It should scare me more than it does.