Kennedy straightened beside me. Chin lifted. Shoulders back. My girl—on fire.
“This isn’t about you,” she said, voice hard as steel. “Or what you think I’m ruining. This is about me finally making my own choices.”
Jake laughed. Loud. Ugly. “Choices? You married him after one night. You think that’s a choice? Spread your fucking legs wider, why don’t you?”
I was in his face before the last word finished leaving his mouth.
“You don’t ever talk to her like that,” I growled, my voice low and deadly. “You don’t get to judge her. You weren’t there when she needed someone. I was.”
The air crackled. My pulse thundered in my ears.
He faltered—just for a second—but it was enough. He saw the storm he’d walked into. And he knew damn well I wasn’t backing down.
“Nick’s right.” She looked Jake dead in the eyes, no flinch, no hesitation. “You have no idea what I’ve been through. And you don’t get to dictate who I choose or what I want anymore.”
Every word out of her mouth hit like a lightning strike. And fuck, it made me want to kiss the fire right out of her.
Jake tried to scoff again, but it didn’t have the same bite. “You really think this ends well? Everyone’s going to talk.”
“I don’t care,” she said. Calm. Clear. Fucking unshakable. “They already are.”
My heart slammed against my ribs at the way she stood her ground. Like I was something worth fighting for.
“I love him.” Soft. But sure. Like a goddamn promise.
Silence rippled out around us. The kind that cracked something open in your chest.
I turned back to Jake, stepping into his space until he had no choice but to look up at me.
“You try to bully her again,” I said, voice like smoke and steel, “and I swear to God, you’ll learn real fast who the fuck I am.”
He held my gaze for a beat too long. Then he looked at Kennedy—really looked at her. Something passed over his face. Anger. Resentment. Resignation.
“You know Gary’s not going to let this go,” he said flatly.
Kennedy didn’t blink. “I could give a shit what Gary likes.”
“Well, you should.”
Jake’s words hung in the air like a fucking gauntlet. His fists clenched, jaw tight, eyes lit with the kind of fury only a brother could summon.
But this time? I wasn’t backing down.
He moved before I even processed the motion—a punch, fast and emotional, nothing clean about it. I sidestepped easily, my reflexes sharper than his temper. His fist cut through air. Mine didn’t even twitch.
“Nice try,” I muttered, stepping in close. Too close for comfort. I wanted him to feel it.
He froze, just for a second. That flash of surprise in his eyes was all I needed to see.
I leaned in, my voice like gravel and smoke. “She’s mine now.”
His nostrils flared, but I didn’t stop.
“You want to cry to Gary? Your mom? The fucking Queen of England? Go for it.” I gave a slow shake of my head, calm and deadly. “It won’t change a damn thing. This is official.”
I meant every word. No hesitation. No room for argument. I wasn’t just claiming her—I was drawing a line he’d never cross again.
Kennedy didn’t shrink beside me. I caught the way her fingers balled at her sides. The way she held her ground like she’d been born to do it.
