Cal stood in the middle of his living room. Blood on his shirt from where I'd grabbed him. Adrenaline making him shake. Eyes bright with shock and fury and something that looked like gratitude he didn't want to feel.
“You followed me,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I told you I had it handled.”
“You were about to get executed. That's not handled. That's suicide.”
“I had a plan?—”
“Your plan was shit. Four armed professionals against one unarmed investigator. What exactly was the endgame there, Cal? Talk them to death?”
“I was buying time. Getting them to admit—” He stopped. Pulled out his phone. Screen shattered. Recording device broken. “Fuck.”
“Yeah. Fuck.” I moved closer. “You went alone. You walked into an obvious trap because you thought you were smarter than Harrow.”
“I am smarter than Harrow?—”
“But you're not smarter than suicide.” I grabbed his shoulders. “You could have died tonight. Would have died if I hadn't followed you. And for what? A conversation that got you nothing except a shattered phone and proof that Harrow wants you dead.”
Cal's jaw tightened. “I can't just sit at Ravenswood waiting for permission to move. Can't let fear keep me paralysed. I needed answers?—”
“You needed to not die alone in a warehouse.” My grip tightened. “Do you understand what that would have done to me? Finding out you'd been killed because you were too stubborn to ask for backup?”
“I'm not your responsibility?—”
“Yes, you are. You became my responsibility the moment I decided you were mine. The moment I chose you over easy. Over safe. Over every logical reason to walk away.” I pulled him closer. “So stop trying to martyr yourself and start accepting that partnership means sometimes letting other people keep you alive.”
Cal's breathing had gone uneven. “I made a promise to Bishop because I owed him my life. And then Harrow used it against me. Used it to drive wedge between us. To make you doubt me.”
“I know.”
“And you still came after me anyway.”
“Of course I did. You're an idiot but you're my idiot.” I cupped his face. “And I'm not letting Harrow take you from me. Not through execution. Not through manipulation. Not through any method he can devise.”
“Adrian said if things go sideways, my head's on the table.”
“Adrian says a lot of things. And he handles problems his way.” I thought about Webb. About how Adrian had assured us Webb wasn't dead. How that was somehow worse. How Adrian's mercy came with costs that made death look kind. “But you're not his problem to handle. You're mine.”
Cal studied my face. Looking for lies. For cracks. “What does that mean?”
“It means I protect you. Even from yourself. Even when you make it nearly impossible.” I released him. Stepped back. “Take off your shirt. You're covered in blood and I need to see if you're hurt.”
He stripped mechanically. Revealed skin that was unmarked except for bruises forming from tonight's violence. Nothing serious. Nothing that wouldn't heal.
But his hands were shaking. Adrenaline dump. The reality of how close he'd come to dying finally catching up.
I moved to him. “Breathe. You're safe now.”
“I don't feel safe. I feel—” He stopped. Couldn't finish.
“Out of control. Vulnerable. Like the walls you've built are crumbling and you don't know how to stop it.”
“Yes.”
“Then let me give you structure. Let me remind you what control actually feels like.” I touched his throat. Gentle. Deliberate. “Do you trust me?”
