“I’m trying to keep you safe,” Havoc said.He forced the words out like they might still make sense if he said them right.
“I didn’t ask you to,” she shot back.
The words slid in under his armor and twisted.For a second, he couldn’t breathe.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, something bitter threading through his tone.“That’s the problem.”
Her eyes softened just a fraction, confusion flickering through her anger.The fight drained out of her shoulders, replaced by something uncertain, searching.
“What does that mean?”Ivy asked.
Havoc opened his mouth, then closed it.Everything he wasn’t ready to say crowded his throat.The way she unsettled him and how his instincts screamed to shield her even when she didn’t want it.Hell, the thought of losing her made something feral claw at his insides, hot and vicious and terrifyingly familiar.
Libby.He’d felt this before.The edge of fear sharpened by love.The need to control the uncontrollable.He’d sworn he’d never stand in this place again.
“Drop the supplies,” he said instead, voice low and tight.
“What?”she asked, startled.
“Drop them,” he repeated.
She stared at him for a long beat, searching his face like she might find an explanation written there.Then, slowly, she lowered the bags to the ground.Her eyes never left his.
“Why?”Ivy demanded.
Havoc didn’t answer, he simply kissed her.It wasn’t gentle or careful.It was heat and frustration and fear colliding all at once, a desperate, reckless thing that tore out of him before he could stop it.He fisted his hand in her jacket, dragging her flush against him, the kiss claiming and hungry and wrong in all the ways he couldn’t afford.
She made a small sound against his mouth, surprise melting into something darker, deeper.She moved her hands up instinctively, gripping his cut, fingers digging in like she needed the anchor just as much as he did.She kissed him back with equal intensity, lips soft and insistent, breath hitching as the world tilted.
For a heartbeat, everything else disappeared.The taste of her and the press of her body.The way his chest ached with the want of it, sharp and consuming.
Then reality crashed back in.It slammed into him full force, dragging memory and consequence along with it like barbed wire.Havoc tore himself away, lungs burning, breath coming rough and uneven like he’d just surfaced from deep water.
For one brutal second, he rested his forehead against hers, eyes shut, every muscle locked tight as if he could physically hold himself in place long enough to regain control.Her warmth still clung to him.Her breath brushed his mouth.The echo of her taste lingered, cruel and vivid.
He could already feel the old fear rearing its head, sharp and insistent.He’d sworn he would never stand on this edge again, never let himself want something that could be ripped away.Not again.
Havoc forced himself back, putting space between them like a barrier, even though every instinct in him protested.He couldn’t go through this again. Havoc knew his limits.He knew what loving someone cost him.
He’d survived once, barely.It had taken years to stitch himself back together, and some pieces had never fit right again.He couldn’t survive it a second time.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
Ivy swayed slightly, eyes dark, lips parted, breath uneven.“What was that?”
A mistake, his head screamed.A dangerous one.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” he said instead.
Her expression shifted instantly, hurt flashing hot and fast.“You kissed me.”
“I know,” he said, jaw tight.“And I shouldn’t have.”
She crossed her arms, anger snapping back into place, sharper now because it was wounded.
“Then don’t do that again,” she snapped.“Not if you don’t mean it.”
Havoc nodded stiffly.“You’re right.”
