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“You think he’s better than me?” he snapped, the venom dripping from his voice. “You’re nothing without me protecting you.”

His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. It was tight—too tight—and a gasp caught in my throat as panic clawed its way up from my gut.

People were watching but pretending not to—looking away like they were engrossed in their conversations or the game across the yard. Because that was how this shit worked; no one wanted to get involved in someone else’s drama.

But this wasn’t just drama; it felt dangerous and real as Chris held me captive in this moment—a moment I had never signed up for.

I pulled against his grip, trying to shake free, but it only made him tighten his hold further. My pulse thundered in my ears.

Chris yanked me toward him, his voice low and sharp, slicing through the air. “We had a fucking deal.”

I felt the heat radiating off him as he tightened his grip, and for a moment, fear prickled at my skin. But then his hand snagged the hem of my dress—fingers curling around the fabric and pulling.

The sudden rip echoed in the quiet tension between us—a harsh sound that shattered the fragile calm of the night.

That sound—it flipped a switch inside me. I could almost hear Knox’s voice in my head, clear as day. Take the hit. Get back up. Don’t let anyone own you.

Every lesson he taught me rushed back—the weight room fights where I’d pushed through pain, the board drills where I’d fought for every inch, every ounce of respect. And now? Now it was time to fight again.

With a quick jerk, I freed my wrist from his grasp and stepped back, squaring my shoulders as adrenaline surged through me. My voice cut through the humid night air like a blade.

“Get your hands off me, Chris.”

His eyes widened—surprise flickering across his face because he thought he had me under control. But he didn’t. Not anymore.

I could feel power surging through me as I held his gaze, refusing to look away this time.

The knot of fear that had coiled tightly in my stomach began to unravel with each breath I took.

The fabric of my dress hung precariously from where he had ripped it; it felt like a metaphor for everything unraveling around us.

Chris’s bravado faltered for just a moment—a flash of uncertainty crossed his features—but it was quickly replaced by anger.

“Who do you think you are?” he spat out, taking a step toward me.

“Someone who won’t let you bully her,” I shot back, heart racing but unwavering. “You don’t get to control me.”

As those words left my mouth, I could feel Knox's presence wrapping around me like armor—strong and unwavering—and it made all the difference in this moment.

The summer rain started to fall—soft at first, cool droplets landing on my hot skin. It felt like the universe was trying to wash this moment clean, trying to erase the heaviness that had settled in my chest. I didn’t wait for Chris to react; I turned and walked away, stepping into the downpour.

With each step, the rain mingled with my anger and relief, soaking through the ripped fabric of my dress.

My legs trembled beneath me, adrenaline still coursing through my veins as my heart raced.

I could hear voices fading behind me—Chris’s protestations, the murmurs of concern from teammates—but they grew quieter as I put distance between us.

I reached my car, flinging open the door and sliding inside.

The familiar scent of leather and stale air hit me like a comfort blanket, but it was tinged with something sharper—a reminder of everything that had just happened.

I cranked the engine and pulled away from the bonfire, feeling more like myself than I had in weeks.

Because I wasn’t a pawn anymore. I wasn’t a deal made in whispers or a trophy meant to shine for someone else’s glory. I was Knox’s. That realization ignited a fire within me—a sense of purpose that had been dimmed by too many expectations and pressures.

Even if he slammed the door in my face when I got to him. Even if he told me he was done with this messy entanglement we had woven together.

I would still choose him, anyway.

With every mile I drove away from the bonfire, my resolve solidified.

The rain poured harder now, obscuring everything outside the windshield like a cleansing shroud.

But instead of feeling lost or adrift, I felt anchored—a fierce determination surging through me as I turned down familiar roads toward Knox’s place.

As raindrops splattered against the glass like tiny fists demanding entry, all that mattered was getting to him—making sure he understood what this was for me: an acceptance of everything we were—chaotic, reckless, beautiful, and unafraid to embrace it all.

I got to his place, parked, and got out. I kept walking until I reached his door, and then all of the adrenaline that had been there immediately vanished.

What was I doing?

I stood on his porch, drenched, my dress clinging to my body like a second skin.

The rain dripped down my hair, smudging the carefully applied makeup that had once made me feel put together.

Now, it only reminded me of how fragile I was—heart pounding in my throat, nerves twisting tighter with every breath.

My knuckles hovered over the door, and for a moment, I hesitated. This was it. The moment I had built up in my head since I drove away from the bonfire, heart racing with confusion and longing. No cover. No lie. Just me—raw and exposed—asking him to want me back.

I knocked once.

Twice.

With each tap against the wood, my chest tightened further. What if he wasn’t home? What if he didn’t open the door? What if this was all for nothing? A part of me screamed that I was already losing him before we’d even started.

The silence stretched out in front of me like a chasm I couldn’t see across.

My pulse thudded in my ears as the weight of uncertainty settled heavily on my shoulders.

Would he look at me with those fierce eyes that promised possession and fire?

Or would he turn away, leaving me standing here drenched and alone?

What if I was too late?