Page 146 of Shots & Echoes

My jaw locked so tight my teeth ached. Of course, he’d be there. That fucking kid.

But it wasn’t just him. It was her voice—unsteady, wavering like she was barely keeping herself together. It was the way she blinked too fast, like if she didn’t, she might lose the battle against the emotions building inside her.

And the worst part? I hated that it hurt her to say no to me. That it felt like a loss to her, too.

“With him?” I bit the words out, low and sharp.

Iris tensed. And maybe if I were a better man, I’d have backed off. Maybe I’d have let her go without pushing. But the image was already in my head—Chris standing too close, flashing that easy fucking grin, whispering something in her ear while she laughed like nothing had ever happened between us.

Like I hadn’t had my hands on her. Like she hadn’t moaned my name in the dark.

No.

I couldn’t fucking stand it.

“Iris.” I took a step closer, closing the space between us, forcing her to feel me there—to see me.

She finally met my eyes, and the weight of it hit me harder than any slap shot ever could. I searched her face, desperate for something, anything to tell me this wasn’t slipping through my fingers. That she wasn’t about to walk away from this—from us.

“Knox…”

She said my name like it meant something. Like it carried weight. Like she knew exactly what she was doing to me.

And I didn’t know what pissed me off more—the fact that she was still planning on going, or the fact that it was killing her too.

Her breath hitched—barely—but I caught it, and it tore through me like a blade. Whatever this was between us? It wasn’t fucking simple. It wasn’t casual. It wasn’t something she could just shake off like a bad play on the ice.

I felt it. The way her eyes glimmered, the way her chest rose and fell too fast, like she was struggling to hold herself together. She was breaking apart, right in front of me.

And I hated it.

I stepped in, lowering my voice because I wasn’t angry anymore. I was something worse. I was terrified.

“You don’t have to do this, Iris.” My words were slow, deliberate. Begging. “You don’t owe him anything.”

Her eyes flared—anger, fear, something darker lurking beneath the surface. But she swallowed it all down, jaw tightening like she was bracing for impact. “You don’t get to decide that.”

The words hit like a punch to the ribs, knocking the breath from my lungs.

I exhaled slowly, trying to push back the frustration clawing at my throat. “I’m not trying to control you, I just?—”

“I have to go.” She cut me off, voice cracking just enough for me to hear what she didn’t say—I don’t want to.

But she still said it. She still chose to go.

The words settled between us like a gaping wound, raw and irreversible. My heart pounded, each beat a goddamn warning—this wasn’t just about Chris. This wasn’t about some fucking bonfire.

This was about us.

And she was running.

I took a step back, my chest going tight, my hands curling into fists at my sides. This was it. The moment where I should have said something—done something—but I didn’t.

Because what the hell was the point? I couldn’t force her to stay. I couldn’t make her choose me. And for the first time in my life, I felt completely fucking powerless.

I watched as she walked away, her shoulders squared like she was bracing for impact. She didn’t look back. That part stung the worst—like I didn’t even deserve a final glance, like what we had meant nothing.

The air in my lungs turned sharp, cutting through me like glass. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to call her name, to make her turn around and face this—to face us. But I knew better. Pushing her now would only send her running further.