Chapter 54

Chapter 54


Sable

I waited for Brant to come home, but he never did. Joss eventually told me we should go to bed, so I did, though sleep came slowly, with nothing but thoughts of Brant filling my head.

Where was he?

The next morning, I woke up early and slipped into the shower. The steam had barely fogged the glass when Joss walked in and joined me, pressing close in that familiar, possessive way of his.

When he left to get dressed, I finished up and got ready. But instead of heading downstairs, I found myself sneaking quietly into Brant’s room.

And there he was, sprawled across his bed, fast asleep. His broad chest rose and fell heavily, his dark hair messy, his face relaxed. I must have woken him with my footsteps, because just as I reached the side of his bed, his eyes blinked open.

“Good morning, Champion,” I said softly.

“Sable,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

“Why didn’t you come home last night?” I asked, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

“I did,” he said, rubbing his face with a groggy smile. “I got back just after midnight… We celebrated me beating a hunk.”

“That move you pulled at the end was brilliant,” I said with a small smile.

“What move?” he asked, propping himself on one elbow and shifting closer until our faces nearly touched. I caught his breath—tainted with alcohol, warm and intoxicating, like the night still clung to him. He lowered his voice, almost conspiratorial. “I’m only telling you this… that wasn’t a trick. That guy almost killed me. I had to do something.”

I laughed lightly, though inside I was wondering how hard he had partied last night. Was there a woman? Or more than one?

I was about to ask when the door swung open. Joss walked in, his presence filling the room immediately.

“Our hero,” he said, crossing to us. I rose quickly, and Joss slid an arm around my waist, pulling me into him. His hold was firm, strong, almost too strong, as if he needed to remind both Brant and me where I belonged.

“Congratulations on that match,” Joss said.

“Thanks, bro,” Brant replied with a tired grin, sitting up straighter. They bumped fists, that silent brotherly bond between them.

“Why don’t we go have breakfast, honey? I’m sure Brant needs to get ready too… get himself together,” Joss said, glancing at me with a tight smile, his hand tightening slightly at my waist.

I smiled and nodded, letting him lead me out.

We walked out of the bedroom and headed downstairs, making our way to the backyard—it was the weekend after all. Rhett was already seated at the table, though breakfast hadn’t been served yet. We greeted him as we sat down.

Soon, Marirose and Loren appeared, carrying breakfast.

Kit showed up next, offering the same casual greetings before taking his seat. Somehow, it felt like we were all just waiting for Brant.

When he finally arrived, he sat at the table and immediately started discussing the match with Rhett. Soon, Joss and Kit joined in.

Marirose poured him a drink, and Brant looked at her. “Marirose… why don’t you come with me for practice? I’m sure you’d like to see your neighborhood,” he said, slipping it in between his conversation with the guys.

Marirose, come with me… That’s what he’d just told her. He should have asked me. And if he didn’t want any misunderstanding, he could have said, Joss and Sable, come with me. Joss could decline, then I’d go with him. But no… Marirose.

Just her.

And what then?

He could just as easily invite her to a match, have her cheer for him, and she’d end up in his bed.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I was so caught in my thoughts that I didn’t realize Rhett was speaking until his voice cut through. “You can go if you want. After all, Brant asked.”

So she had declined at first, which was the right thing to do. But Rhett had to spoil it.

A huge smile spread across her face, like she’d just been promised the trip of a lifetime. “I’ll go get ready,” she said, practically glowing as she walked away.

Joss turned to me. “What do you want us to do today? Why don’t we go on a date, maybe to the movies?”

“To the movies… yeah,” I cut in, a little too fast. “I’d love to go to the movies.”

Fuck. I need all the distraction I can get today.

Joss and I went to the movies instead of staying at the mansion and following the usual tradition, and to be honest, we did enjoy ourselves.

But when we came back that night, Marirose and Brant still weren’t home. I tried to push the thoughts clawing at my mind away, to focus on my boyfriend. On us.

The days went by, and whenever Joss had free time, we did something together. We went out and did the things couples usually do—dinners, long walks, little dates. He was simple and fun. So damn fun. He made me laugh, made me feel wanted. But no matter how much I tried, my mind kept circling back to Brant. Brant’s lips. Brant’s hands. Brant fucking me. All I wanted—burned for—was Brant. Brant. Brant.

He kept going to practice, always with Marirose at his side, and the fight streak he was on kept winning him round after round. Everyone was happy about his victories, but sometimes he came home battered and bruised, and it made my chest ache. And every time, Marirose was there tending to his injuries like it was her duty. The sight of them together gnawed at me, made me sick with fear that one day they’d end up together… again.

My heart lodged in my throat every time I saw him. Every time I saw them. I was falling, head over heels, into something I had no control over. It wasn’t just lust anymore—it was deeper, heavier, something I couldn’t escape from. Dangerous, reckless, hopelessly in love.

Maybe I knew it ever since Marirose talked about gratitude and love and I almost told him what I felt.

And that’s why I did something very, very stupid.

The final round of the fight arrived, and instead of watching at home with the others, I decided to go to the arena myself, alone, to cheer for Brant. To be there for him. I waved down a cab, slid inside, and let it carry me across the city, my pulse thrumming with nerves and anticipation.

When the cab finally stopped, the driver turned toward me. For a split second, I didn’t understand. Then his eyes fixed on me, and I really looked at him. Something in his gaze made my stomach flip. My heart hammered against my ribs as I reached for the door handle. But before I could push it open and run for my life, he caught my wrist. His grip was iron.

“What—” I started, but he leaned close and blew a fine white powder into my face, straight into my eyes.

It wasn’t painful. It wasn’t even burning. But the moment it spread across my vision, my eyelids fluttered, heavy all at once.

My vision blurred, shapes melting into darkness. My chest tightened as panic rose, but my body was already betraying me—my limbs heavy, my breath sluggish. I tried to push away, tried to breathe, but the world was already slipping from me. The last thing I felt was my heartbeat slamming against my ribs, wild and terrified. Then everything went black.