“You got something to say, Briggs? Say it to me. I fucking dare you.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ELLIOT
Elliot turned slowly.Hale had closed the distance between himself and Briggs, shoulders squared, hands loose at his sides but ready. Controlled fury settled across his face—the kind that came right before someone did something catastrophically stupid.
Briggs straightened off the wall, grinning. "Oh, I got plenty to say, Hale."
Don't.Elliot tried to catch Hale's eye, tried to communicate the message without words. Not here. Not now.
But Hale wasn't looking at him.
"Then say it," Hale said, his voice steady. Too steady. "Go ahead."
Briggs’s grin widened. "You know what? I don't think I need to say anything. Chen already handled it, didn't he?"
His eyes cut to Elliot. "Daddy pulled some strings, got you off the hook?"
Elliot's body went rigid. His stomach dropped. The crowd around them had gone quiet, the whole corridor watching.
"That's what I thought," Briggs continued, louder now. "Must be real nice having a general for a father. Get to break the rules, get to fuck whoever you?—"
Hale's fist connected with Briggs’s jaw before Elliot could process what happened.
Knuckles on bone, razor-sharp and flat. Briggs stumbled back against the wall, hand flying to his face. Blood bloomed from his split lip.
"Hale!" Reed's voice, tight with alarm.
But Hale wasn't done. He moved forward, grabbed Briggs by the front of his shirt, and pulled back for another hit?—
Elliot moved. He crossed the distance in four strides, catching Hale's arm mid-swing. "Stop."
Hale's muscles were coiled tight under Elliot's grip, every line of his body still angled toward Briggs. For half a second Elliot thought Hale might swing at him too.
"Let me go, Shaw."
"No." Elliot’s voice was firm. He tightened his grip. "Not like this."
"He—"
"I know." Elliot held his gaze. "Let him go."
The hallway had erupted into noise—people shouting, someone calling for an instructor, Briggs spitting blood and cursing. But Elliot kept his focus on Hale, kept his hand locked around his wrist.
Hale's breathing was harsh, his pupils dilated. He looked like he wanted to tear Briggs apart. But the tension in his shoulders eased, degree by degree.
He let go of Briggs’s shirt.
Briggs slumped against the wall, still holding his jaw. "You're fucked, Hale. You're both fucked."
"Shut up, Briggs." Reed stepped between them, hands up. "Just shut the fuck up."
Sergeant Barnes pushed through the crowd, expression thunderous. "What the hell is going on here?"
No one answered.
Barnes’s eyes swept the scene. Briggs against the wall, bleeding. Hale standing rigid, knuckles red, Elliot's hand still on his arm. The crowd of guys pretending they hadn't been watching.
