Page 54 of Relapse

Dagger leans one arm against the roof of the car, breathing hard from adrenaline and panic and rage still pumping through both of us.

“You have no idea.”

Mina stares harder.

“No seriously. Your dead girlfriend’s little sister? Between both of you? That’s like… therapist retirement fund levels of trauma.”

Neither of us answer.

Because what exactly is there to say?

She’s right, this whole thing is fucked.

But the second Blair stumbled into our lives, it stopped mattering whether it was wrong.

All that mattered was keeping her breathing.

Mina mutters something under her breath about needing several years of therapy before climbing into the backseat beside Blair anyway.

I shut the door firmly behind them while my eyes keep scanning the parking lot automatically.

Watching Waiting.

Dagger circles toward the passenger side, still tense enough that I know he’s already thinking ten steps ahead.

Because now that Dante’s men have seen her?

Everything just got worse.

Chapter eleven

Chapter Eight

Blair

The first thing I notice when I wake up is the silence.

Not real silence exactly.

Apartment silence.

The low murmur of a TV somewhere in the distance. Pipes creaking faintly behind the walls. Wind drifting in through a partially open balcony door, carrying the smell of ocean air and rain-soaked concrete with it. Somewhere far below, traffic hums through the city while sunlight bleeds warm and gold through gaps in blackout curtains.

No bass or screaming crowd.

No foam cannons launching strangers into spiritual awakenings.

My eyes crack open slowly against the dim light, and regret immediately punches me directly in the skull.

Fucking hell.

My head pounds hard enough to qualify as attempted murder. My mouth tastes like alcohol, chemicals, and terrible coping mechanisms while every inch of my body feels overheated and heavy beneath unfamiliar black sheets.

For a second, I just lay there blinking at the ceiling trying to figure out where the fuck I am.

Concrete ceilings.

Dark walls.