He pulls the car over with a jerk of his hands, skidding to a halt. I catch myself on the dash, then glare at him. He just slams it in park and flicks on the overhead light. And then, seeming to rein in some of his anger, he flips my hair back.

“Theo—” I don’t have time to react. To get away from him.

He grabs my jaw and moves my head to the side, exposing the bruise on my neck. He stares at it, and I wait in silence. His anger climbs. It’s thick between us, written in the cruel way he holds my face. It’s like he can’t contain it inside himself anymore.

“Who did this?” he growls.

“No one.”

“Lux.”

“Hypothetically, they might be lying dead in a bush somewhere.” My voice has no emotion in it. I’ve separated myself from the act.

He freezes and tugs my head back around. I meet his gaze and raise my eyebrows.

“I can’t decide if I want to throttle you or kiss you,” he mutters. He releases me. “I’d cover for you.”

I flinch. “You’re supposed to say you’d bring me to the police station yourself. You’re supposed to—”

“To, what, be a morally just white knight? Or worse, do something just to spite you?” He snorts. “No. You killed someone who touched you? Good. If you hadn’t, I certainly would. I’m not nice, Lux, but you and I… We’re in this together. Whatever this is.”

I stare out the window, not sure what to do with that information. I mean, would I kill for him? Probably. Did I ever imagine he’d actually tell me he would kill for me? Hard no. And we’re in this together? Sitting around a campfire singing, or blood oaths, or—

“We’re fucked up.” My brain hurts.

He laughs.

“Bring me home.”

“Fine,” he says. He navigates back out onto the road.

He doesn’t ask if I’m okay. He doesn’t even look at me as I fix my hair again, covering the bruise. It throbs when I push my finger into it, testing its limits. My skin crawls as I picture the man’s unseeing eyes for the thousandth time.

I might just have nightmares about it.

“He tried to rape me,” I say. “Well, that’s where I assume it was going.”

“Don’t.”

I wince. “Don’t what? Justify what I did?”

“Don’t fucking tell me what he almost did to you. I’m barely hanging on by a thread here.”

I glance over at him, shocked. He’s right—he’s furious. His ears are red, a telltale sign of his anger, his mouth set in a hard line. Every muscle in his body seems tense.

See, if we liked each other, I’d try to make it better.

But… I do enjoy prodding the angry bull.

So I continue, “He told me my parents wanted pictures. Or a photographer, maybe. I don’t remember. There’s a little path that goes into the woods, and I followed him down it. I thought, like an idiot, that no one would hurt me at my sister’s engagement party. A house full of Mafia men. We’re supposed to be protected.” I laugh. “And then he yanked me off the path, shoved me up against a tree.”

I touch my cheek. It doesn’t hurt much, just the phantom sensation of his palm.

“Lux.” His voice is strangled.

“He slapped me,” I force myself to say. “Then tried to get at…”

“Stop.”