Page 72 of Relapse
My eyes narrow slightly.
“Crew?” I ask quietly.
“Yeah.” Dagger takes another drink before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m gonna handle the piece of shit on my crew who sold her shit the other night.”
No argument there, if I had it my way he’d be eating a curb right now.
His jaw tightens harder after that.
“And I wanna stop by her motel. Grab her shit and see if Dante or his guys have been poking around there yet.”
“Well shit, for once I wish I could go with you,” I admit quietly. “Cause honestly? I’d love the chance to hurt somebody right now.”
Dagger snorts faintly under his breath like he expected that answer.
“But,” I continue, glancing briefly toward the hallway, “we both know we can’t leave her here alone.”
Dagger grabs his keys from the counter while silence settles briefly through the apartment.
Not comfortable silence either.
Heavy, and complicated.
Because we both know exactly how fucked this situation is becoming now.
Blair asleep down the hall while we stand here quietly agreeing to keep her locked inside this apartment for her own safety like that somehow isn’t completely insane behavior.
Dagger notices the shift too.
The ugly realization neither of us has bothered saying out loud yet.
“It’s not ideal, and I know she fucking hates it. Probably hates us for it, but she’s safer here,” he says finally.
“I know.”
“And together—”
“I said know.”
His jaw tightens slightly like the words physically irritate him.
Probably because they irritate me too.
Neither of us likes this. We don’t like each other much either.
But Blair alive matters more than whatever rivalry’s still rotting between us.
Dagger’s eyes hold mine another second before he nods once. Then he leaves.
The apartment feels wrong immediately afterward.
Too quiet and empty.
I fucking hate it.
I light another cigarette near the balcony while morning rain drifts through the cracked door carrying ocean air and wet concrete into the apartment.
Movement sounds down the hallway a while later.
