Maddox:
My knuckles were still raw.
Split skin. Dried blood. A little swelling.
I didn’t care.
I’d spent the entire morning bouncing between pissed off and pacing, my thoughts locked in a loop of every word Cole said, every smug look he gave me, and—worst of all—that picture.
Juliette.
On my feed.
In his arms.
Even knowing it was a scene, even knowing it was staged, it didn’t stop the way it made my chest feel like it had been cracked open. Because what pissed me off the most wasn’t the kiss—it was that Cole had turned it into a weapon. He turned her into a weapon against me.
And I let him get under my skin.
Now half the team was treating me like I’d lost my mind, and Coach was threatening to bench me if I got into one more fight. Great. Just what I needed before playoffs
