The words detonate.
Before I can stop myself, I’m moving again—but this time, Sage catches me by the hoodie, yanking me back with more strength than I thought she had. “Enough!” she cries. “He’s not worth it!”
The fury drains out all at once, leaving me dizzy, hollow.
Grayson smirks one last time and turns toward the exit. “See you around, Voss.”
The echo of his footsteps fades into the hum of the garage lights, and for a long, awful moment, the only sound left is Sage’s ragged breathing.
She sinks against the car, shaking. I reach for her, but she flinches.
The distance between us has never felt wider.
Chapter 19
Fallout
Sage
The crackof Leo’s fist against Grayson’s jaw reverberates through the concrete garage, and my heart lurches into my throat. The sound is sharp, final—like glass breaking underwater.
Both men stumble back into stances—Grayson wiping blood from his lip with that feral grin, Leo braced to swing again, chest heaving, eyes locked on his target.
“Leo!” I shout, wedging myself between them, palms out. “Stop!” My voice ricochets off concrete. The air is thick with sweat, metal, and testosterone, humming with the kind of violence that doesn’t need an audience. For a split second, I think they’re both going to ignore me and go for it anyway.
Grayson sneers past my shoulder, eyes on Leo. “Now I know why your stats are tanking,” he says, wiping his mouth. “You should get back with the winning team, Sage.”
His words drip poison. He knows exactly where to cut.
Leo lunges again, and I shove him back with all the strength I have left. “Enough!” My voice comes out raw, shaking. “You’reboth acting like boys in a locker room. I’m not property. Not a prize. Not yours.”
Grayson laughs, low and smug, blood streaking his teeth. “You’ll figure it out eventually,” he says. “I always leave a mark.”
His gaze slides to Leo—pointed, deliberate. “Enjoy sloppy seconds, Voss.”
The words hit like a slap I don’t feel until they burn.
Grayson pushes off the car and saunters toward the exit, his gait loose and arrogant, like he hasn’t lost a damn thing. His footsteps echo against the walls, fading only when the garage door hums to life behind him.
Silence rushes in to fill the space he leaves. I can still smell oil, blood, the static of adrenaline.
Leo’s fists are still curled, knuckles white, his chest rising fast. “You think throwing punches is going to fix this?” I snap, the tremor in my voice betraying me. “You just gave him everything he wanted.”
His head jerks up, eyes dark and wild. “Everything he wanted?” he says, incredulous. “He was cornering you, Sage. He’s been calling, sending things?—”
“I had it under control,” I cut in, heat rising in my throat. “You don’t get it, Leo. He feeds on this—the spectacle. The chaos. You just handed him a headline.”
He laughs, but it’s humorless. “You think I care about headlines right now? He talked to you like—” His jaw tightens. “I couldn’t just stand there.”
I take a step back, chest heaving. “You think this was about you?” I ask. “This isn’t your fight.”
He looks stunned, like I just punched him. “Not my fight? He’s been stalking you, threatening you, and that’s not my fight?”
“I didn’t want it to be.” My voice cracks. “I didn’t want to drag you into something that doesn’t have a clean way out.”
His mouth twists—half disbelief, half hurt. “You really think standing there while he talks to you like that is better?”
“I think giving him another reason to feel powerful is worse,” I say quietly. “That’s what he wants.”
