Page 32 of Relapse

“Blair’s back.”

My character gets shot directly in the fucking face.

DEFEAT flashes across the screen while silence detonates inside my chest hard enough to physically hurt.

For a second, I just stare at the TV.

Then slowly—

“What.”

Dagger swears under his breath on the other end of the line.

“She’s fucking back.”

Every muscle in my body tightens instantly.

Not fear exactly.

Worse.

Because the entire point of leaving her behind was this exact fucking scenario never happening.

Weeks.

Weeks of wiping every trace of ourselves from her life. Clearing out the warehouse. Feeding everyone bullshit stories about construction while Dagger practically lost his fucking mind pretending staying away from her didn’t bother him.

All of it just to keep her breathing, and now she’s back anyway.

Of fucking course she is.

I mute the headset while some twelve-year-old aggressively threatens my bloodline through the speakers and lean forward slowly, elbows braced on my knees.

“When?”

“Last night.”

My jaw tightens instantly.

“Stone called it in after a drop,” Dagger says. “Said he spotted her at some afterparty looking fucking wrecked.”

I straighten slowly from the couch, irritation already starting to crawl beneath my skin.

“And you didn’t call me then?”

“I went to get her first.”

Of course he did.

I already know where this is going before he even says another fucking word, because Dagger’s predictable as hell when it comes to Blair. Pathetic too, honestly, but I usually keep that part to myself.

Mostly.

“I found her outside the place half out of her fucking mind,” he mutters. “Brought her back to my apartment.”

There it is.

I laugh once under my breath and drag the cigarette from my mouth.