Page 43 of Freestyle (Boys of Frampton U #2)

Grayson

T he shot splits the dark.

One sharp crack that rips through the quiet and punches a hole straight through my chest.

I freeze. For half a second. Maybe less.

Then I’m moving.

The fountain comes into view, lit by those pale security lights that make the whole world look like it’s underwater. My boots hit the pavement hard, breath lodged behind my ribs.

Nix.

Rowyn .

Alberto.

Who fired? Who fell?

My vision tunnels as I round the edge of the hedges, and everything slows.

Rowyn’s on the ground, curled into herself, blood on her thigh. No, no, no, but she’s conscious. Breathing. Shaking, but alive.

I drop to my knees beside her so fast my leg scrapes across the pavement. “Baby. Hey, look at me.”

Her eyes flick up.

Wild. Glassy, but focused.

“Gray…” It’s just a breath, a tremble shaped like my name.

“I’ve got you.” My hand finds hers instantly. Cold. Too cold. “You’re okay. You’re safe. Just—just stay with me.” I take off my shirt and drape it across her legs, hoping it will keep her warm.

I brush her hair from her face, scanning for wounds, praying she isn’t hurt.

Nothing— nothing —could prepare me for what I see when I ease Rowyn’s legs gently into my lap and catch sight of the mark.

It’s not just a burn. It’s not just red, raw skin.

It’s deliberate.

It’s personal .

A cruel spiral of angry blistered flesh, still gleaming faintly, edges puckered where the freeze kissed too long. My throat dries out. My hands curl at my sides, because if I don’t hold onto something, I’ll break something.

He did this. That pathetic excuse for a man.

He branded her.

She shouldn’t be touching my shoulder right now, whispering “I’m okay” with that brittle, brave voice.

I should be the one wrecked. I am .

I brush trembling fingers along the unburned edge of her thigh, as light as breath.

“Gray—” she starts, but I shake my head.

“Don’t,” I say, barely recognizing my own voice. “Don’t tell me you’re fine. Don’t protect me from this.”

She quiets.

Good.

Because there’s fury behind my ribs I can’t shove down, not anymore. My lungs are filled with it, my bones vibrating.

Behind me, I hear a grunt. A groan.

And then Nix’s voice.

“Gray,” he says, breathless.

I turn to see him slouched against the edge of the fountain like gravity’s finally catching up to him.

Phoenix .

His arm is pressed tight against his side, blood blooming too fast through the fabric of his sleeve and even though I heard him say he was fine, I can see it now, he’s not.

Not really.

Rowyn is at least safe, breathing beside me, but every instinct in my chest pulls me toward him like a magnet just snapped.

“Nix,” I rasp, already moving.

He looks up at me, his smirk wobbly, pain tucked behind his teeth. “It just grazed me,” he says. “Flirted, really. Not my type.”

But his fingers are shaking.

When I reach him, I drop to my knees, my hands on his arm before I even think. The wound is bad. Deep enough to leave a scar. Too close.

Way too close.

“What happened?” I ask. “The comms shut down.”

“He had a knife to her throat and an iron on her leg, and she was screaming. I did what anyone would do. I tackled him, but he pulled a gun. He may have gotten me, but I threw him in the fountain and held his head underwater until he stopped moving,” Nix explains with a shrug like it’s just another day.

“You could’ve—” My voice catches, thick with everything I didn’t let myself feel until now. “You could’ve —”

He opens his mouth like he’s got something clever to say, something that’ll make this easier.

But I don’t let him.

I cup his cheeks, rough and fast and full of everything I can’t articulate, and press my mouth to his.

It’s not calculated. Not tender.

It’s desperate. Fierce .

Because he’s here. Because I almost didn’t get to say anything.

Because I love him, and I didn’t know how loud that truth was until I almost lost the chance to say it.

When I pull back, his eyes are wide, but not surprised.

He just exhales, shaky and stunned, and murmurs, “Took you long enough.”

I can’t help but laugh against his lips.

“Never thought you’d be ready,” I admit.

“It took Rowyn coming into our lives for me to know it wasn’t just about us with her but about me and you, too. She showed us what we were missing by never looking .”

I huff out a shaky laugh. “I think I was scared I’d ruin everything if I let myself want both.”

He shrugs, lips tugging upward even as blood stains his collar. “Then you clearly underestimated our ability to survive literally anything .”

I’m still holding his face in my hands, Nix’s blood warm on my fingers, breath catching between us like it’s hanging on the same edge I am when I hear her voice from behind me.

Rowyn.

She saw.

For one heartbeat, I wonder if this changes everything, but she doesn’t flinch.

She just watches us like she already knew, like some part of her’s been waiting to see it, too. And maybe that’s what makes this real. Messy. Raw. Ours.

Nix winces, shifting his arm. “Gonna need stitches.”

“You’ll live,” I murmur, not letting go. “I need you to live.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he breathes.

Good.

Because none of us are walking away clean from this.

The sirens haven’t arrived yet. The cleanup team’s probably already closing in but in this small, bloodstained circle around the fountain, everything feels quiet. Like the worst already came, and we’re still standing.

Just barely.

Rowyn’s curled tight against the cold pavement, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the spot where Alberto fell like she’s afraid to blink. The light from the streetlamp cuts across her face, painting her in ghostlight.

She shouldn’t have to be alone now, not even for a breath .

“Nix,” I say quietly, hand still resting against his jaw. “Stay awake.”

He nods faintly, eyelids heavy but focused. “Not going anywhere.”

I push up and cross the distance between me and Rowyn in three strides.

“Hey,” I whisper, crouching. “I’ve got you.”

She looks up. Her body’s trembling from shock or pain or both, and her eyes are wide, wet, and too quiet.

She doesn’t argue when I slide one arm beneath her knees, the other around her back. She just sinks into my chest like she belongs there.

I carry her the short distance and ease down beside Nix, shifting so she’s wrapped between us, my arm around her shoulders, Nix’s good hand finds hers, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles.

Nix’s voice is quieter now. Not weak, not shaky—just… subdued. Like even he can’t joke his way through what he saw.

“It was freeze branding,” he says, breathing shallowly. “Liquid nitrogen. I saw the setup right before I threw the punch. It was some DIY nightmare; canister, coil, the whole deal. Like he’d practiced.”

My jaw locks.

Freeze branding .

Not heat.

Not fire.

Something cold enough to kill nerve endings. Something calculated, and she felt all of it.

Rowyn’s curled against my side now, head tucked under my chin, her breathing finally starting to even out.

“It was always going to be all three of us,” she whispers.

Phoenix exhales first, like the truth finally found room in his chest. His hand squeezes hers gently, and then he glances at me with that infuriating, familiar smirk that’s somehow softer than it used to be.

“You hear that, Captain? Looks like destiny upgraded to a group plan.”

I bark a laugh. Half breath, half disbelief, and shake my head as I look between them, between home and fire, between the boy who’s always known me and the girl who makes me want to know myself better, and for the first time in my life…

I don’t feel split.

I feel complete.

Remy runs up and looks at the scene. “I called the paramedics. They’re on the way. I called your dad too, Gray.” He’ll clean this mess up where it won’t touch the three of us. At least he can do that right.

I relax against the fountain, holding Row and Nix in my arms.