If things were different, she might have been willing to let you pull that trigger. That's what she's meant for. But here? She doesn't need to have inhibitions. Doesn't need to stand by, hands cosmically tied, as each new regret piles up in front of her.
That includes you. That includes a lot of things.
Disdain twists your face, a look that makes her tug harder on your neck. You've surmised that the only reason you're not dead yet is because she's getting a kick out of watching your reactions grow more visceral, and the rest of these guys here wouldn't dare try to put her in the line of fire.
You clench what remains of your teeth and let her know that though she doesn't know it, you've danced this tango with her before, many times.