My knees go weak out of nowhere, and Maddie’s hand tightens around my arm. “Breathe,” she murmurs.
I inhale shakily. Exhale.
Ethan gives Wyatt a look—quiet respect, quiet caution. “You did good stopping.”
Wyatt’s jaw flexes. “I shouldn’t have to stop.”
Ethan’s voice stays calm. “But you did.”
Saxon steps closer to Wyatt, voice low enough that it’s private even in a room full of people. “You almost crossed a line.”
Wyatt’s gaze doesn’t flicker. “He crossed it first.”
Saxon’s eyes narrow, but there’s something like understanding under it. “Go cool off. Now.”
Wyatt’s gaze shifts to me.
His eyes soften just a fraction, and it hits me like a punch because I realize he was terrified. Not that Graham would “win,” but that Graham would take something from me again.
Wyatt walks toward me slowly, like he’s approaching something breakable even though he knows I’m not.
Maddie steps back, but not far. Still there. Still solid.
Wyatt stops in front of me, gaze dragging over my face like he’s checking for damage. His voice drops. “You okay?”
I swallow. “I didn’t fold.”
His mouth twitches. “No. You didn’t.”
His eyes flick to my lips, and my body reacts like it remembers his mouth on mine, remembers the claim, remembers how fast the contract stopped feeling like paper.
The air between us tightens again, different now—danger passed, adrenaline still high, the kind of tension that makes a kiss feel like a match in a gas leak.
Wyatt’s voice goes lower. “You were brave.”
I scoff, but it’s weak. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t make me—” My throat tightens. “Don’t make me feel like I’m going to cry.”
Wyatt’s gaze holds mine. “Then don’t cry.”
It should sound harsh.
It sounds like permission.
I inhale, steadying.
Saxon clears his throat behind Wyatt. “Cooper.”
Wyatt doesn’t turn.
Saxon’s voice stays firm. “Office. Now.”
Wyatt finally looks away from me, jaw tight. He takes a step back like it costs him, then pauses.
He looks at me again, and his expression shifts into something I can’t read at first.
