Page 129 of Relapse

He doesn’t answer.

His brows pull together, confusion cutting through the softness so fast my stomach drops. His hand moves again, slower now, not intimate anymore. Searching.

Checking.

His jaw tightens.

“What the fuck?”

Cold panic slides through me instantly.

“What?” I ask, lifting my head. “What is it?”

He doesn’t look at me yet.

That scares me more than anything.

His face has gone completely still, all that tenderness draining out of him while his hand withdraws carefully between us.

And when he opens his fingers beneath the shower spray, something tiny, round and black sits against his wet palm..

For one second, neither of us moves.

Water pounds against his shoulders.

Steam curls around his face.

My heart drops so hard I swear I feel it hit the floor.

“What the fuck is that?” I whisper.

Dagger stares at it silently while water pours over both of us.

Then I watch something change across his face.

Recognition.

Not fully, but enough.

Enough that pure rage suddenly floods his expression so fast it almost startles me backward.

His jaw clenches hard enough I hear his teeth grind.

The tiny tracker shakes slightly between his fingers.

“No.”

The word comes out barely above a whisper.

But somehow more terrifying than yelling.

Confusion slams through me.

“Dagger—”

Then his eyes lift toward me.

And I swear I physically feel the exact second something clicks inside his head.