The crowd erupted in laughter that rolled through the room. I was just part of the act.
My stomach twisted—I wanted to punch him.
I pressed my face closer to Graham’s shoulder, not enough to hide—but enough to breathe.
He set me down in a battered folding chair in a side room that smelled faintly of dust, coffee, and cheap perfume, then crouched in front of me. His fingers were careful when they found my ankle, his touch steady in a way that made my heart beat a little harder. His eyes stayed locked and unreadable.
I hated that he looked at me like I was fragile.
I hated it more that some broken part of me wanted him to prove it wrong.
“Let’s get you out of those death traps, princess.”
He knelt fully then, hands working the straps with frustrating precision. Too gentle. Too controlled. His gaze lifted once—hungry and unrelenting—before dropping back to his work. Then his hands slid up, steadying me at my calves, my knees, and higher, until he gripped my hips and tugged me forward in the chair—pressing me flush against him.
Heat snapped through me.
Every nerve in my body lit up.
My breath lodged in my throat.
God.I wanted him. I needed him.
I swallowed it down, but it came out anyway—smaller, rougher than I meant.
“The only way this works…” My voice cracked, and I tried again. “The only way this works is if you join us. And follow Hunter’s rules.”
His whole body went still.
Not confused. Or questioning. Just still.
“Max, that’s not gonna?—”
“Look,” I said, my voice determined, leaning back like distance could steady me. It didn’t. “You made your decision when you left. You told me to find someone else, so I did.”
My throat tightened in the silence.
“I already screwedwith Hunter’s life. I’m not going to destroy him too.”
Graham’s jaw flexed. His voice came lower, stripped down. “Forget Hunter. Just you and me. No rules.”
Before I could answer, the door cut the air open.
Hunter strolled in like he hadn’t just been on a stage, winning the people over with fake belly laughs and empty promises, drink in hand, expression edged with amusement that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Aye, I told her those shoes would be the death of her.”
His hand slid over my shoulder, drawing my hair forward so it spilled neatly over one side like he had just corrected the most important detail in the room.
Graham saw it.
Didn’t react at first.
Then his eyes narrowed—sharp and immediate.
He didn’t speak. Just dropped back down in front of me, grip tighter this time, unbuckling my other heel with quick, sharp movements.
A heat climbed his neck, reddening just below his ears.
He yanked a spare chair over, setting it beside mine. “Put your foot up,” he said before standing, eyes cutting into me like a warning, and shouldered past Hunter. “I’ll get ice.”
