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He was dead. Another man who’d tried to break me. Dead by my hand.

Again.

And this time…I wasn’t running. I was standing firm.

A laugh tore from my throat—half sob, half triumph—as tears streamed down my face. Sterling’s arms held me up. “You did it,” he whispered against my hair, his voice thick with pride and something deeper, something awestruck.

He turned me so that I could lean against his chest.

“I’m n-not…br-broken,” I managed, the words slurring thick and clumsy as the drug slowly loosened its grip on my tongue. My voice cracked, hoarse and unsteady, but fierce underneath. “N-not…anymore.”

Each syllable felt like dragging stones from my throat, my lips numb and heavy, but I forced them out anyway. Because saying it, even garbled, felt like spitting in the face of every man who’d ever tried to shatter me.

Sterling’s eyes flared, dark and wild with pride, with relief, with something so deep it stole what little breath I had left. He leaned in and pressed his forehead to mine, his hands cupping my face.

“No, baby,” he whispered roughly as his thumbs stroked my cheeks. “You’re not broken. You’re fucking unbreakable.”

And in that moment, with Harvey’s blood cooling on the floor and Sterling holding me like I was the only thing that mattered in the world…

I believed it.

I was free.

I was whole.

I was his.

And no one would ever try to change me again.

CHAPTER 48

STERLING

Ileaned against the scarred wooden bar, my arms crossed and my beer forgotten in my hand as I watched her.

Sienna was up on the tiny makeshift stage Babs reluctantly put together once a month for karaoke night, her microphone clutched like a lifeline, singing one of the Megan Moroney songs she liked.

Her voice was rough around the edges—she’d had a fuck ton of tequila—but it sounded perfect to me. She swayed on her feet, her hips moving to a rhythm that didn’t remotely resemble the one blaring out of the jukebox, while her hair fell in wild waves around her shoulders. Hattie was right beside her, belting the chorus with all the grace of a drunk cat, one arm slung around Sienna’s waist to keep them both upright.

They looked ridiculous. They looked happy.

And I couldn’t look away.

Jett nudged me with his elbow, smirking like he knew exactly what was going through my head. “You gonna stand there all night staring like a lovesick puppy, or you gonna go rescue her before she falls off that stage?”

Ryder snorted into his beer, his eyes glued to one of the TVs that was showing a Dallas Knights game. “She’s fine. Hattie’s got her,” he said, even though he hadn’t taken his eyes off of Lincoln Daniels skating down the ice for at least half an hour.

Ari Lancaster was my favorite on the team, but even he couldn’t get me to stop watching Sienna.

“Hattie can barely stand herself,” I muttered, but I didn’t move. At least not yet.

I liked watching her like this, loose, unguarded…alive. The woman I’d found staggering out of a wrecked car a few months ago had been all sharp edges and fear. Now she was…this. Laughing too loud, singing off-key, completely unafraid of the eyes on her.

Completely mine.

She caught my gaze mid-chorus, and her whole face lit up. She blew me a sloppy, dramatic kiss, and I felt it hit me square in the chest, same as always. I tipped my hat, letting her know I saw her and I was right here.

Hattie grabbed the mic, yanking it closer to scream the last line of the song, and the whole bar erupted in cheers and whistles. Sienna doubled over, laughing and clutching her stomach. When she straightened, her eyes found mine again, and she gave me the look.