Page 159 of Shots & Echoes

What would happen when the walls came crashing down? What would he think when he found out how fragile I really was? Would he pull away or fight harder to keep me close?

I tucked my head against his shoulder, feeling the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath me. It was comforting yet terrifying—a reminder that this intimacy held power over both of us. My heart raced as I considered all the ways it could unravel if anyone ever found out.

I broke the silence first, my voice quiet. “What now?”

Knox tensed for a second, his body rigid beneath me. I could sense the hesitation radiating from him, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air between us. He had been trying not to think about it—the implications of what we had done, the consequences that loomed just out of sight. This was the part that always ruined him, I realized.

“We figure it out,” he replied, but even as he said it, I heard the uncertainty lacing his words. He didn’t know if we could navigate this new territory, and honestly? Neither did I.

I rested my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat—a steady thrum that felt both grounding and exhilarating. Each beat echoed in time with my own racing pulse, reminding me that I was alive in this moment. But fear curled around my insides like a vine, squeezing tight as reality crept back in.

What did this mean for us? For me? Would we really figure it out? Or was this just another temporary fix that would eventually unravel when faced with the harsh light of day?

But as scared as I felt—scared of losing him or being forced to confront what lay ahead—I knew one thing for certain: I’d rather be scared with him than safe without him. The thought settledinto my bones, a quiet resolve amidst the chaos swirling around us.

Knox’s fingers brushed through my hair, sending tingles racing down my spine. His touch was both soothing and electric; it reminded me that despite everything weighing on our shoulders; we were here together. For better or worse.

He sighed deeply, his breath warm against my skin. “I don’t want to lose you,” he murmured, almost too softly for me to hear. He kissed the top of my head, light and gentle, as if he feared that even the slightest pressure might shatter me. I nestled deeper into his embrace, inhaling the scent of sweat and something distinctly him—musky and warm. For now, that was enough.

We had survived tonight.

The chaos of the bonfire—the tension with Chris—swirled in my mind like a tempest. I could still feel Chris’s grip on my wrist, hear his voice demanding control, and it made my skin crawl. But here, with Knox wrapped around me like a shield, I felt safe. The noise faded away; all that mattered was this moment—his heartbeat against mine.

I lifted my head slightly to look at him. His eyes were dark pools of emotion—confusion, frustration, something softer lingering beneath it all. In those depths, I saw the reflection of my own uncertainty. Did he understand how much I wanted to stay here? To forget everything outside these walls?

Yet right now? Just being here felt like enough to weather whatever storm lay ahead. In his arms, everything else melted away—the fear, the pressure—it was just us.

And maybe that was all we needed for tonight.

Chapter 30

Knox

The morning light sliced through the blinds in sharp, unforgiving lines, striping her bare skin like a brand. I woke before Iris, my body still weighed down by exhaustion, but my mind was a live wire—electric, restless, unable to let go of the night before.

She was tangled in my sheets, her hair fanned across my pillow like she belonged there. Like she’d always belonged there. The rise and fall of her breath was steady, unguarded, and I drank in every detail—the way her lashes fanned over flushed cheeks, the way her lips parted just slightly, like she was still lost in the remnants of whatever dreams had claimed her.

For a moment, just a single fucking moment, I let myself believe this was ours—that the world outside didn’t exist, that the storm waiting for us hadn’t already started to gather. That I wasn’t me, and she wasn’t her, and this wasn’t doomed from the start.

I reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, careful, reverent. The act felt dangerous, too soft, too real. She shifted slightly at my touch, sighing in her sleep, and somethinginside me clenched so fucking hard it nearly took my breath away.

Because this? This wasn’t just heat. Wasn’t just adrenaline and reckless decisions made in the dark. This was need.

Last night, she had looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that made sense. Like I was something worth believing in. And it scared the hell out of me. Because what if she woke up and realized she’d made a mistake? What if she looked at me with regret instead of that wildfire devotion that burned in her eyes when we were alone?

The weight of it settled heavy in my chest, a slow, suffocating dread curling around the edges of my mind. She had wormed her way into places I didn’t even know existed inside me, filling the cracks with something dangerous—hope.

And hope was always the thing that destroyed me in the end.

I watched her for another few seconds, committing this to memory—the way she felt like mine, even when I had no right to claim her.

Because the second she opened her eyes?

Reality would sink its claws back in.

The pounding shattered the quiet like a gunshot, fists hammering against the door with enough force to rattle the walls. My body locked up, every muscle coiling tight, instincts kicking in hard and fast. Protect. Defend. Destroy.

Iris stirred beside me, groggy, pulling the sheet up over her chest. “Who the hell—” she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.