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TWENTY-ONE

Jamie

I didn’t know how long I was out, but the first thing I was aware of, after the gentle kissing, was shouting. My eyes flew open as the door slammed into the wall so hard the frame shuddered.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Jamie!” Rio’s voice, raw and furious, filled the room a second before he appeared, stalking in like a storm, with fists clenched and chest heaving. Killian was right behind him, equally tense, voice low but no less angry.

“Rio—”

“You’re supposed to come to me when you want to burn. You promised me. After what happened in Stockton—we pulled those people out—you fucking cried, Jamie. You told me never again. You promised me. ”

“Listen—”

“You acted without a plan, backup, or even telling me. You lit a match without knowing what you’d burn down… again—and look at you!”

Guilt turned to anger, and I pushed myself upright, wincing as the sheet slipped down and the burn pulled tight along my ribs. Killian reacted as if he might steady me, but I waved him off with a sharp shake of my head.

“Can you give us a few minutes?” I asked him, voice rough.

Killian didn’t move right away. He crowded Rio, eyes flashing, the air crackling between them like they were seconds from violence—two big guys locked in a silent war of will and territory.

“Watch your tone with him,” Killian said, quiet and dangerous.

“Or what?” Rio snapped. “You think I’m scared of some slick-suited manipulator who thinks he knows what’s best for Jamie?”

“Back off,” Killian growled. “Show him some fucking respect.”

“‘Respect’?” Rio took a step forward, invading Killian’s space without flinching.

Then, he shoved him—two open hands to the chest. Killian rocked back half a step but held his ground, shoulders squaring like a wall settling into place.

Rio might’ve been shorter, but he was all power and coiled fury, the kind that came from knowing what kind of damage he could do.

And Killian? Killian was calm in that terrifying, precise way that said he’d seen worse and wasn’t going to be the one to blink.

“I’ve been protecting him since we met,” Rio bit out, their bodies almost touching, heat and adrenaline spiking between them.

“Enough!” I barked, loud enough that they both looked at me.

“I need to talk to Rio. Alone. Please.”

Killian’s jaw clenched, but he finally nodded and stepped back, shoulders tense as he left the room without another word. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving only silence—and Rio’s fury.

Rio paced like a caged animal, fists still clenched, breathing hard through his nose. He pointed at me as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

My laugh was bitter. “When, Rio? When you’re at The Pit fighting? When you’re high? When you bring home whatever guy looks good enough to bleed and drink with until you pass out? When you stagger in reeking of smoke and sweat and can’t even look at me? ”

His jaw tightened.

“I waited for you,” I said, voice breaking.

“I waited for you last night, and you walked right past me. You tell me I can tell you, but I can’t, not every single time.

My brain won’t let me, and you don’t see me even when you’re not fighting, or whoring, or…

” I sat straighter, blinking through the sting behind my eyes.

“It’s not on you, Rio, but tell me—how could you ever be enough to stop me when all I want to do is burn? ”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Anger warred with something else—guilt, maybe. Or shame. I didn’t know. Didn’t care.

“Jesus, Jamie?—”

“You don’t get to storm in here and act like I betrayed you when you don’t understand, and you haven’t been around to keep that promise real.”

“I never meant to—” he started.

“You’re my best friend, but I’m fucked-up, okay?” I said. “It still happened. It’s not your fault, but it’s not my fault either.”

He slumped to the bed. His hands dragged over his face, elbows on his knees, eyes glassy with something that wasn’t just anger anymore.

“I should have seen you were spiraling,” he muttered.

“I knew you wanted to do something. I could feel it. But I thought I’d see it and catch the signs like I always have.

I thought I had more time. That you’d come to me before it got bad. But you didn’t. And I missed it.”

“This isn’t about you, Rio?—”

“You could have died.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he looked at me as if he saw the full cost for the first time. “You could’ve gone in and not come out. I keep thinking about that—how I would’ve found out in a news alert or a fucking phone call from Enzo.”

He scrubbed his hands down his face again and looked up, jaw tight. “I’ll fix this. I’ll do better. I’ll stay home more. I’ll check in every night. I’ll—fuck, I’ll do whatever you need. Just don’t shut me out again.”

I shook my head slowly. “Rio… I don’t need you to fix me.

I know you want to help, but you can’t be the net every time I fall.

No one can be there for me every time I lose control.

I was the one who made the call to go in, and I’ll probably make more mistakes like that.

That’s not your fault. It’s not even about blame.

It’s who I am. And yeah, maybe one day, I won’t get out of the fire.

Maybe that’s what’s waiting for me at the end of this road I keep charging down.

Maybe that’s the price I’m wired to pay for all the li ves she’s helped me take.

And when it comes… maybe that’ll be my turn. ”

Rio’s face twisted. “That’s not okay, Jamie.

” He stood, angry all over again, pacing a few steps before turning on me.

“You don’t get to say that like dying is just something you’ve penciled into your future.

That’s not how this works. You matter. You matter to me.

” His voice cracked, and he dragged a hand through his hair, all restless fury collapsing into something more gentle.

“You matter more than you know. I should’ve been there. I wanted to be there. I just…”

He slumped as the fight left him, and when he finally looked back at me, it wasn’t with anger anymore—just quiet desperation.

“Please, Jamie, don’t make me bury my best friend.”

“I’ll try.”

Rio sighed. “I’ll take that.” Then, he sat down, elbows on his knees. He stared at the floor for a long second before speaking. “How’s the pain?”

“Okay. Burns, stitches in my shoulder. Not as bad as Stockton.”

He nodded. “Still pretty fucked-up though.”

“Yeah.”

There was a beat of silence before Rio exhaled again. “Killian paid Doc. He won’t tell me how much, but I have the money.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “We’ll figure it out. But for now… let the rich guy pay, yeah? No extra fights. No hurting yourself to get money for this.”

Rio scoffed under his breath. “Says the guy who walked into a fire.”

“Says the guy who bleeds for sport and fucks as if he’s looking for a reason to break his dick,” I shot back.

He huffed a bitter laugh and rubbed his face. “Touché.”

We stared at each other. Two disasters in different flavors.

Same damage, different masks. Then, he reached out and gripped my hand.

We pulled into a crooked, awkward bro-hug neither of us was good at, but both of us needed.

His chin knocked my temple and my shoulder twinged, but I held on just as hard.

When we let go, something had shifted. Not healed, but less sharp.

Rio gestured to the closed door. “So… are we going to talk about whatever this Killian-Jamie situation is? Because I’ve got questions. Like, is this a thing? Did he sleep in here with you? Is he fucking you? You fucking him? Do I need to punch him in the mouth or threaten him with a wrench? ”

I groaned, dropping my head back to the wall. “Don’t start.”

“I’m serious. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And you’re all ‘yes, sir’.”

“Fucks sake, Rio!”

He grinned, all mischief now. “Hey, I’m just saying… dude’s got the bossy top vibe.”

I threw a pillow at him, then sighed again—I’d been doing a lot of that. “He makes the noise in my head stop.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, but that was all I was giving him.

The rest was my secret.