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“I don’t know why you’re in danger,” he says, voice flat. “Not yet. But I know it’s connected to your father.” His eyes don’t leave mine. “And whoever broke into your apartment has the kind of resources that make phones a liability.”

My anger stutters, tripping over the cold logic.

He leans in slightly, eyes hard. “You trust no one right now. Not your neighbor, not your uncle, not a coworker, not a friend. No one. Until we know what we’re dealing with.”

My throat tightens.

“Dave is family,” I snap, but the words don’t have the same heat they did a second ago.

His gaze doesn’t soften. “Family gets used. Family gets watched. Family gets hurt.”

I flinch.

Knox exhales, slow, like he’s forcing himself to stay controlled.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and the words sound like they cost him. “But I’m not sorry enough to risk you.”

I stare at him, chest heaving.

Part of me wants to claw his eyes out.

Another part of me wants to lean into him like he’s something solid in a world that keeps cracking open.

I hate that part.

I hate that it exists.

Knox turns back to the road, starts the truck, and pulls back into traffic like nothing happened.

I turn my face toward the window and focus on the blur of trees and highway signs and the fact that my life is now a moving vehicle with no exit.

He breaks the silence first.

“You're hungry, right?” he asks.

My stomach answers with a loud, humiliating growl.

Heat crawls up my neck.

I glare at my own body like it’s betrayed me again.

Knox’s mouth twitches. Not a smile. Not really. Something close.

“When’s the last time you ate?” he asks.

I swallow. “I can’t remember. I was heading out to eat before everything unfolded. Kind of got… interrupted.”

He nods once, eyes on the road. “We’ll fix that.”

My throat tightens again, and not from fear this time.

My brain tries to slide into the kiss again, to replay the way his mouth felt, the way his body shielded mine, the way my hand fisted in his shirt like he belonged to me for one heartbeat.

I force myself to think about something else.

Dad.

The drive.