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“Sooo,” Henry drawls, rocking back and forth on his heels like a hyperactive kid. “How long are we supposed to stay out here before we rock on in there and take down every asshole in the joint?”

“We’re not doing that,” Dash replies flatly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, come on. So what? We’re just going to stand out here and wait by my car? What if Cade needs us?”

My pulse spikes as I stare at the exit, waiting for Cade to come out. I can’t talk. I don’t really register Henry’s whining. All I’m watching is the crack between the doors, silently begging it to burst open.

Come on. Come on.

“Henry, if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to shove you in your trunk until we’re ready to go,” Dash growls, but there’s no real heat behind it. “It’s the least I could do for all the shit you put Madison through.”

“Fine, fine. But for the record, this is torture. We could be in there making sure our boy doesn’t get his pretty face rearranged, and instead, we’re out here playing the world’s most stressful version of charades.

” Henry gestures wildly at the building, which looks quiet from here.

A stark contrast to what’s going on inside.

“I mean, what’s the point of having all these muscles if we don’t use them? ”

“The point,” Dash starts, “Is that Cade specifically told us to stay out here. So we’re staying out here.”

“But what if—”

“Henry.” Dash’s voice drops lower. “Be quiet.”

Henry raises his hands in surrender, but I can practically see the words building up in his mind. The guy doesn’t know when to shut up when he’s nervous.

Neither do I, apparently, because suddenly I’m the one talking.

“What if he doesn’t come out?” The words slip from my lips before I can stop them, raw and terrified. Both of them turn to look at me, not knowing what to say. It’s only when I hear the back door open that the tension between us is broken.

I gasp when I see Cal and Mark dragging what looks to be a limp body out of the club. “Cade?” I whisper to myself as they toss him into the trash like he's nothing more than garbage. “No.”

My heart plummets into my stomach because that can only mean one thing. He lost.

That’s the only explanation for them throwing him out like that.

All the while I left him in there to get destroyed while I stood in this parking lot like a coward, waiting, expecting him to come out victorious.

What kind of wife does that make me? Am I just as bad as Luke, using Cade for my own purposes?

The guilt tears through me as I rush toward him, my feet pounding against the asphalt as I berate myself for being such a terrible fucking wife.

It's only when the door opens again that I stop dead in my tracks, surprised to see Jeremy walking out. Walking. He might be bloodied and bruised, but Cade’s barely moving.

“What's going on?” Dash asks, appearing beside me. “Oh, shit. That's the fighter.” When he registers who Jeremy is, he starts jogging toward the carnage.

I follow behind him, my heart hammering against my ribs as I watch Jeremy reach into the trash and pull Cade out like he weighs nothing. When Cade stands on his own two feet, relief floods through me so hard I nearly collapse.

Cade pulls something small out of his pocket and hands it to Jeremy, who quickly hides it in his glove. The USB. Because going through with this insane fight wasn't enough, he still wants to take Luke down permanently.

And as much as I hate to admit it, Jeremy is the perfect choice for an accomplice.

His size alone intimidates most people to the point where he barely has friends, let alone shows loyalty to anyone.

Anyone except me, and that's only because we trauma-bonded in that group home hell.

I know him. I know he wants out of this life as much as me.

By the time I reach them, I walk toward Cade tentatively, taking in the damage and feeling every ounce of stress and pain from the past hour crash over me. He's standing, but he's… fuck, he's covered in blood, and it looks like he can't see out of one eye.

“Cade?” I say, completely breathless.

“Hey, Pretty Girl,” he replies, trying to sound casual and relaxed, but I can hear it—the rough edge to his voice that screams I'm in a hell of a lot of pain even though I'm going to pretend I'm fine.

His voice is all the permission I need. I cup his battered face in my hands and kiss him like my life depends on it. My hands come away covered in blood: his, Jeremy's, I don't know, and I don't care. The only thing that matters is feeling the warm skin of my husband against mine.

“You’re walking.”

The relief of feeling him solid and real against me is overwhelming. I want to laugh, cry, and drag him home and lock him in our apartment so he can never do something this reckless and stupid again.

“Did you really think it would be any other way, Pretty Girl?” he says, then immediately clears his throat like even talking hurts. “You two do know I'm the undefeated champion of Behind Closed Doors , right?”

“You do know I threw the fight, don't you?” Jeremy retorts, and I pull back from Cade just enough to look between them.

I'm hesitant to acknowledge Jeremy because I don't want Cade to think there's anything between us, but when I feel Cade's hand move to the small of my back, gently pushing me forward, I realize he's encouraging me to talk to him.

My husband, the man who just got the shit beaten out of him, is trying to facilitate a reunion between me and my old friend.

“Go say hi,” he whispers, his voice still rough. He tries to take a step toward Dash but stumbles slightly, catching himself on Jeremy’s arm. “I'm just going to see mine.”

I watch, my heart clenching, as he limps toward his brooding teammate, each step clearly causing him pain. He's trying to play it off, but I can see the way he favors his left side, the way his breathing is shallow and labored.

It takes me a few seconds to tear my attention away from the love of my life, but when Dash has a hold of him, I feel calm enough to look at Jeremy.

He’s already staring, and there are a few seconds where we just take each other in.

Years. It’s been years since I’ve seen him, and he looks so much older.

Tattoos snake up his neck now, hinting at the map of pictures scrawled across his skin.

I can only imagine how many more are hidden beneath his clothes, each one a story I was never around to hear.

But when he offers me a smile I haven’t seen in forever, I know he’s still Jeremy. Still the boy I used to know, buried somewhere beneath all that ink and damage.

The same boy who used to hold my hand during thunderstorms. Who shared his meager portions of food when the group home didn’t have enough. Who promised me we'd find a way out together.

“What are you doing here, Jer?” I ask, my voice breaking slightly as I pull him into a hug. He wraps his enormous arms around me, lifting me clean off the ground for a few seconds before setting me back down with the same gentleness he showed me when we were kids.

“I'm guessing the same as you. I was lost and unfortunately Luke found me.” He steps back, and I can see the pain in his eyes. It’s not from tonight's fight, but from years of surviving in a world that never wanted him. “But I thought you were…”

“In prison?” He nods, his jaw clenching. “Yeah, I was after my last fight. That was how Luke found me. Guess he heard about it when I served my time, he was there…” his sentence trails off. “And now I’m drowning in debt to him.”

“I'm sorry,” I whisper, and the words feel completely inadequate.

“It’s not your fault, Sav.” His voice is firm but gentle. “This is Luke being the predator he always has been.”

He pauses, his expression growing more vulnerable. “I saw you working here once, you know? A few months ago.”

My blood runs cold. “What?”

“Yeah,” he says softly, pain flickering across his features.

“Almost didn't recognize you with that ridiculous red wig on, but Luke saw it.

The way I looked at you. The way I've always looked at you.” His voice cracks slightly.

“I've been in love with you since we were kids, Sav.

Probably something I should've told you sooner, but I was always too much of a coward.”

The confession hits me like a physical blow. All those nights in the group home when he'd comfort me, all those times he'd step between me and the older kids who wanted to hurt me… it wasn't just friendship. It was love. A love I never recognized because I was too busy trying to survive.

“Jer…” I breathe, tears burning my eyes.

“He wouldn't let me talk to you that night,” Jeremy continues, his voice raw with emotion. “Said I had to earn it. Told me that if I won the fight tonight, he'd wipe my debt clean and let me take you with me. Give us the life we always talked about having.”

The life we dreamed about as kids. A life where we could take care of each other the way no one ever took care of us.

“He did?” I whisper, my heart breaking for the boy who became a man still carrying the same dreams.

Jeremy laughs bitterly, but there are tears in his eyes now. “Yeah, he neglected to mention the guy I was fighting was your husband, though. The man who actually gave you everything I always wanted to give you.”

“Is that why you let him win?”

“Do you really think I would've agreed to kill the man you love?” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair as his voice breaks. “Luke played us both, Sav. He knew exactly what he was doing when he put us in that ring together. He wanted to destroy you.” He shakes his head.

The weight of Luke's manipulation settles over me like a suffocating blanket, but what's worse is seeing the devastation in Jeremy's eyes, and the realization that it was never going to end the way he planned.