She hadn't said a word since he wrapped the coat around her.
Not when he guided her back to the sidewalk.
Not when he stepped between her and the body still groaning in the alley.
Not even when the city swallowed them whole again—buzzing neon, honking cars, the sound of other people's lives rushing forward like nothing had happened.
Adam didn't rush her.
He walked a half-step ahead, slow and deliberate. Every few paces, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure she was still there.
She was.
But something in her gait had changed.
Iris moved like a person whose bones had turned to glass—careful, rattled, tight. She kept one hand clenched in the coat like it was armor, the other arm tucked close to her ribs. Like she hadn't figured out yet whether she was safe.
Or whether she was safe with him.
When they reached the front steps of her apartment, she stopped. Didn't look at him.
"Do you want me to stay?" he asked quietly.
She didn't answer at first.
Then—barely a whisper: "Would you?"
He nodded once. "If you ask."
She hesitated. Then turned the key.
The door clicked open, and he followed her inside.
Her apartment smelled like fabric softener and dried herbs, but she barely registered it. Adam shut the door behind them like it sealed something off—like it meant something.
Her fingers slipped. The keys hit the floor and skidded under the table.
She didn't move to get them.
Her hands were shaking. He noticed.
"You're in shock," he said, matter-of-fact.
"No shit," she whispered, then immediately winced. "Sorry."
"You don't need to apologize."
But she did.
For everything.
For dragging him into this. For needing his coat. For freezing up. For not hating how it felt to have him there—dangerous, brutal, calm.
She finally looked up at him. "You didn't even blink."
"I've seen worse."
"That's not comforting."
"Wasn't meant to be."
She laughed, sharp and broken. It sounded wrong. But it kept her from crying, so she did it again.
He stepped closer, slow. Careful.
"You're not hurt?"
She shook her head. "No. I don't think so. I just… he had a knife."
Adam nodded like he already knew.
"He was going to stab me."
"No," Adam said. "He wasn't."
She blinked. "How can you be sure?"
His eyes met hers. "Because I was there."
And suddenly, she wasn't scared.
She was furious.
"I didn't even fight back," she said. "I froze. I always freeze."
Adam didn't interrupt.
"I've taken classes. Rehearsed what I'd do. But the second it actually happens, I just… vanish. Like I stop existing."
"You didn't vanish."
"I didn't fight."
"You didn't need to," he said. "I was there."
Her eyes welled up. She bit the inside of her cheek hard.
"That's not the point."
He looked at her for a long moment, then stepped even closer.
"Maybe not," he said. "But you're still standing."
She wanted to say something clever. Strong. But all she could do was whisper, "Thank you."
He didn't smile. But his voice softened.
"Go sit down. I'll make tea."
She blinked. "No—no, I'll make it. You're the guest."
He didn't argue.
Just watched her quietly as she moved into the kitchen, still wearing his coat. Still shaking a little.
She pulled two mugs down and poured water into the kettle like it was the only thing she could control. Her hands moved on muscle memory. The silence behind her stretched thin.
She turned around, holding one mug out for him.
He took it.
They both went quiet again.
The steam rose between them like a veil. Somewhere outside, the world kept spinning. Inside, everything was too still.
Iris looked down into her tea.
Then, so softly it almost wasn't there: "Do you like me?"
The words just slipped out. Too small. Not flirty. Not cute. Just real.
Adam didn't answer right away.
She finally glanced up, heart thudding.
He was watching her. Jaw tight. Eyes unreadable. Something burned behind them—something he didn't let people see.
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't," he said.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I've got right now."
That stung.
But she didn't look away. "So… what are we doing then?"
Adam set his mug down with deliberate care. "I don't know."
Her voice was tight. "Right."
"I don't do normal," he added.
"I'm not asking you to."
"But you want something real."
She met his eyes. "Don't you?"
The silence that followed was heavy—not cold. Just… broken open.
"I want you," he said.
Simple. Devastating.
But he wasn't smiling. He looked like he hated the truth of it. Like it exposed something he'd spent years trying to bury.
"I don't know what that looks like," he admitted. "But I know I don't want anyone else near you."
Iris blinked.
"That sounds… kinda possessive."
His expression didn't change. "It is."
She swallowed.
Then nodded.
"Okay."
And for once, neither of them had anything else to say.