“Nate—”
“I’m not asking,” he cut in, glancing back at Holly. She was still dozing. Nate felt his whole chest tighten, then harden into steel. “If Lars isn’t terminated in the next ten minutes, I’m sending that footage to every network contact I’ve ever met, and I’m calling my lawyer. I don’t care what this show thinks it can survive.”
Martin went very quiet. When he spoke again, it was more controlled. Like this was the real Martin, the sharp TV producer who just faked being a ditzy dickhead because it usually got him what he wanted. “You don’t need to do that.”
“Then do your job,” Nate said. He could hear it in Martin’s breathing now. The calculation, the awareness of risk, the understanding that this wasn’t astorylineanymore. This was assault dressed up in rhinestones.
Martin swallowed. “It’s already trending,” he admitted. “We’ve got legal in-house. The network is furious. Lars is in his dressing room right now and security is on the way.”
Nate didn’t blink.“Good.”
“He’s gone,” Martin promised, like he could feel the blade at his throat. “He’ll never step into this studio again.”
Nate’s grip tightened around the phone. “And his partner?”
Another pause. “Suspended pending investigation,” Martin agreed. “We’re pulling the footage from internal feeds and handing it over to the network. They’ll decide next steps.”
Nate stared at the wall, jaw tight, rage still simmering. It wasn’t enough. It would never feel like enough. But it was the only justice this world offered: consequences that looked good on paper and never quite matched the damage.
He lowered his voice anyway. “If I so much as hear Lars’ name in Holly’s vicinity again, I’ll make sure everyone hears about it,” he said. “I’ll make a fuckingPowerPoint presentation,Martin. And unlike you, I don’t give a fuck about PR.”
Martin didn’t argue. Didn’t threaten. He didn’t even try to spin it. “Understood.”
Behind him, Holly shifted. A soft sound left her throat, a tiny whimper that hit Nate like a hook to the lungs. He hung up on Martin without saying goodbye and turned instantly, the rage in him changing shape as he crossed back to her bedside. Holly’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy from meds, brows knitting together as reality tried to climb back into her bones.
“Hey,” he said, voice soft as he brushed hair off her face. “Easy, killer.”
She tried to sit up, but the moment her ankle moved even afraction she sucked in a sharp breath and went pale, her hand flying to the blankets like she could press the pain back down.
“Fuck,”she whispered, voice rough with sleep and adrenaline. “It hurts.”
“I know. I’m sorry, baby,” Nate said, reaching for her hand before she could pretend she didn’t need it. He laced their fingers and held on like it mattered. “But you’ll be okay. They gave you something. It’ll take the edge off soon.”
Her gaze dragged to his face, as if she was trying to read him through the fog. “Why do you look like that?”
Because I’m trying not to commit a felony while you’re in hospital.
But he couldn’t lie to her. Wouldn’t. She deserved to know.
He lifted her knuckles to his mouth and kissed them, slow and steady. “Listen to me, Martinez,” he murmured. “What happened to you wasn’t an accident. Someone did this. Someonemadeit happen.”
Holly’s eyes sharpened instantly, fear snapping into focus. “What are you saying?”
Nate picked up his phone. He didn’t show her the footage yet, because he didn’t want her seeing it while she was drugged, vulnerable and trapped in a bed. He didn’t want her to have to carry the visual of Lars choosing violence while she couldn’t even stand. Nate just held the phone like a weapon and leaned down closer, his voice low enough to keep the moment between them.
Holly blinked hard, and tears sprang up anyway, angry and sudden. She looked away first, as if it embarrassed her, but hervoice cracked the second she spoke.“Fucking Lars!This is… this is going to costso much,”she whispered. “My body is my job, Nate. My ankle is… it’severything.This cost me time, it cost me money, it cost me—” She swallowed, throat working. “What if I can’t dance the way I did before?”
The fear in her voice was so raw it made Nate’s ribs ache. She wasn’t talking about the show. She was talking about her life. Her future. The thing she’d built herself out of. Nate’s grip tightened around her hand, careful not to hurt her, but firm enough that she could feel the truth in it.
“You will,” he said. He didn’t soften it with maybe. He didn’t poison it with false hope. “You’re going to dance again. I promise you.”
Holly stared at him like she wanted to believe it and was terrified she already did. Her lower lip trembled as she tried to pull herself together, tried to shove the panic down where she kept everything else. Nate saw it, that instinct to be strong even when she was bleeding inside, and something hot and protective tore through him.
“He’s gone,” Nate said simply. “I spoke to Martin. Threatened to sue. Lars is fucking gone, babe,I promise.”
Holly let out a shaky breath that sounded like a sob she refused to complete. Her fingers tightened around his hand like she needed the proof that he was real. Nate sat back down beside her, close enough that she could lean against him if she wanted, and he braced himself like he always did so that he was ready to take whatever hit came next.
Holly stared at him for a long moment, eyes glossy, her face tight with pain. But her gaze held onto him like she was trying to decide if it was safe to collapse into relief until the tension inher shoulders finally cracked. She let her head tip toward him, resting against his arm like she’d run out of ways to be strong. Nate’s hand slid into her hair, slow and careful, as he held her there and stared at the hospital wall with fury still humming under his skin.
