Another man bids. Tex answers before the guy finishes breathing.
“Sold! To bidder number seven!”
Jane beams at him.
Tex sits down slowly. “What the hell just happened?”
“You got leveled by a hurricane named Jane,” Tank says. “Congratulations. You’re doomed.”
I fold my arms. “Unbelievable.”
Tex elbows me. “What?”
“You were supposed to be support. Instead, two battle-hardened SEALs got poleaxed by women who didn’t even try.”
Tank snorts. “Just wait. You’re next.”
“No,” I say. “Absolutely not.”
Three more women appear. Sweet. Nervous. Brave. Good matches.
None of them is Shay’s friend.
None of them… does anything to me.
I relax—prematurely.
The announcer steps forward. “Our final participant tonight joined us at the last minute through Marlie’s Angels, looking for a fresh start. Gentlemen, please welcome… Sadie.”
My neck prickles.
Tank and Tex both turn toward me, sensing imminent cosmic bullshit.
The spotlight shifts.
She steps onto the stage.
And the world tilts.
She isn’t dressed to seduce.
Soft teal thrift dress, tugged into place. Cardigan that belongs in a late-night study session, not on a stage. Dark hair catching the light, as if it remembers being touched gently once.
Her eyes sweep the exits before they sweep the room. Survivor eyes.
She stands as if fear is a weight she’s learned to carry without showing strain.
And something in me—something buried—locks on.
Tank whispers, “Well. Shit.”
Tex mutters, “You’re done for.”
My chest goes tight. My fingers twitch. Every instinct sharpens. Not want.
Recognition.
Mine.
