Page 42 of Blades of Obsession

What the hell was I thinking?

I wasn’t fucking thinking, that’s the problem. I should have known better.

I could feel the weight of her hurt when she ran away, and it gnaws at me. I don’t want to be like her father, another voice that makes her feel small, another person who sends her scrambling for cover.

My emotions at any given moment are solely dependent on her. If she’s happy, I’m happy. If she’s sad, I’m sad. If she’sin danger, I’m pissed the fuck off and shaking with the rage of a thousand suns. I know it’s unhealthy, but it’s my reality.

Then, like a miracle from fucking God, the door creaks open, the bell above it rings, and my head snaps towards the entrance.

There she is.

My pretty girl.

“You have five minutes, and that’s it.” Her voice is clipped, sharp. But the way she exaggeratedly crosses her arms is a small crack in her armor, giving her away. She wants to be mad, but she also wants to forgive me, so she’s overcompensating—it’s a defense, a show.

I can work with that.

I step forward, eating up the space between us, and my hand moves on instinct. My thumb brushes against her cheek, gently, andfuck, I missed touching her soft skin.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, and her eyes lock onto mine. “I promise… I’ll never raise my voice again. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Her breath hitches, and a faint hum escapes her throat, just for a second, but her face stays neutral. She doesn’t lean into my touch, but she doesn’t pull away either. Like she’s restraining herself.

I let my hand fall, dragging the warmth of her skin with me for as long as I can. “You can be mad at me. But you need to know how to protect yourself.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a small, closed knife, tossing it to her.

She glances down at the cold steel in her hand, furrowing her brows as she flips it over, studying it.

“It’s a knife,” I say.

Her eyes widen. “What’s it for?”

“In case you’re ever in a shady situation again.”

She blinks, then shakes her head. “That was just Jacob. You’re overreacting.”

Just Jacob.

Hearinghisname come out of her mouth sets my blood on fire. But I can’t—and won’t—be another version of her father, so I shove the anger down, deeper, until I can barely feel it, and force my voice to stay calm.

“When you sent that text… telling me someone was following you, I nearly lost my mind, Amelia.” She glances away, biting her lip, but I keep going. “I know you don’t think it’s a big deal, but I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you. Just in case. I can teach you a few tricks too. What’s the harm?”

She stares at the knife in her hand, and for a second, I think she’s going to say no again. But then she sighs, her shoulders dropping a little. “Okay. Just a few tricks.”

Fuck yes.

She agreed.

The relief that floods through me is immediate, but I don’t show it. I simply nod and take the knife from her. I flick my wrist, and with a metallicclick, the blade snaps open. The whole process takes less than a second. “Open it like that,” I say, closing it and handing it back over.

It takes her a few tries to get the hang of it, but by the last flick of her wrist, she’s basically a pro at it.

“You make it look easy, you’re doing such a good job,” I praise.

She looks at me with bright eyes. “I like it when you do that,” she mumbles softly.

“I’ll do it more often then.”

She hums, and for a moment, everything goes still. There’s a beat of staring. The air thickens, charged with something we both feel but neither of us wants to break first.

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