Page 154 of Shots & Echoes

I cupped her face, my thumbs wiping away the cold rain that clung to her cheeks. The chill of the droplets only fueled the fire burning inside me, and I fought to keep my voice even.

“Tell me who.”

Her eyes flickered, darting away, and the tension between us thickened like a noose. I’d never wanted to demand anything from her, but this was different—this was about protecting what was mine. Whoever had hurt her wasn’t walking away unscathed.

“Tell me who.” I kept my gaze locked on hers, unyielding, not willing to let go until she broke.

After a long, excruciating moment, she nodded—barely, but enough. The confirmation sliced through me like ice.

“Chris?” The name tore from my lips in a low growl.

She nodded again, and that was the final spark. Rage exploded inside me. It wasn’t just jealousy—this was somethingdarker, raw and consuming. This was about protecting what was mine—what had always been mine, even before I knew it.

Images of Chris’s hands on her flashed in my mind, the way he’d smiled at her earlier, that possessive touch that should have been mine alone. My blood boiled hotter than any fight I’d ever been in.

I pulled her closer, drawing her into the storm of my body heat as the cold rain battered us. “I’ll make him regret ever laying a finger on you,” I promised, my voice low, dangerous—an ultimatum.

Her eyes widened, a brief flash of fear, but then defiance reasserted itself, a spark that reminded me why I was drawn to her in the first place.

“You can’t just go after him,” she warned softly, though the words lacked conviction. She knew as well as I did that this wasn’t going to end well if Chris ever thought he could claim her.

“Watch me,” I spat through clenched teeth.

I didn’t hesitate. The second Iris confirmed Chris had touched her, something inside me snapped.

I grabbed my keys off the counter, the metal cold and biting in my palm. My blood was already boiling, a wildfire tearing through my veins, consuming every rational thought left in me.

“Stay here,” I ordered, voice sharp, final.

“Knox, don’t—” she started, stepping closer, but it was useless. She could beg, she could scream—it wouldn’t matter.

I was already out the door.

The engine roared to life as I slammed the car into reverse, tires screeching against the pavement. My grip on the steering wheel was vice-tight, my pulse a violent rhythm in my ears. All I could see was him—his hands on her, his smug fucking face thinking he had the right to touch what wasn’t his.

What was mine.

The rain had stopped now; the lake came into view, the bonfire still flickering, throwing orange light against the shadows of the people gathered around it. They were drinking, laughing, oblivious. As if nothing had happened. As if everything was fine.

It wasn’t fine.

I killed the engine and climbed out, each step forward fueled by a dark, singular focus. The world around me blurred, my vision narrowing until the only thing I saw was him.

Chris.

The laughter dulled, conversations dying the second I stepped into the firelight. They felt it—the shift in the air, the unspoken tension thickening with each breath I took.

They knew me. They knew exactly what I was capable of.

Chris laughed.

Laughed.

Like he hadn’t put his fucking hands on her. Like he hadn’t left her shaking, standing on my doorstep with ripped fabric and fear in her eyes.

The firelight flickered, casting shadows over his smug, oblivious face, and something inside me snapped.

I didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate.

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