Page 109 of The Triple Play

I snorted. “Yeah. She was, before you started cozying up to her father and threatening her left, right, and center. Before you tried to squash her dreams before they could take off.”

His eyes narrowed. “She loved me.”

“No,” I said. “I don’t think she even got that far with you. Didn’t hear you say you loved heroncethat night at Smokey’s, and I certainly didn’t hear her say it after you left. But do you want to know something cute?”

Elliot didn’t answer. I took it as a yes.

“She’s said it to all three of us.”

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

“I’m not here to fight,” I reaffirmed, holding my palms up. “I’m here to make sure you understand something very, very clearly, Elliot.”

He rolled his eyes. “And that is?”

“If you go to the press with what you have, if you so much as whisper about her or us, if you plaster her face on the internet, I will personally turn your life into fuckingash,” I said with a shrug. “No more singular weeks at the top of the New York Times bestseller list. No more career. You want to make this a war? You’d better prepare for one.”

I took another step closer, close enough to reach out and touch him if I wanted to.

“Because I will pull every skeleton out of your closet and drag it into the light. You won’t recover. You think it’s bad not being able to date Annie?” I laughed. “How will you feel when half of the country thinks you’re a cunt? Because I will say your name in every interview. I will say it to anyone who will listen. So will Cole and Colton, and that’s barely breaking the surface of what we can do.”

“You’re bluffing,” Elliot said, quieter now.

My lips quirked into a grin. “You want to bet your future on that? Try me.”

We stood there in the thick silence, the tension vibrating between us like the buzzing fluorescents above. He didn’t speak, just stared at me, his eyes sharp, his breathing heavy. And hesneered. “You really think she’ll stay with you? All three of you? That’s not love, it’s?—”

“Don’t say it.”

He bared his teeth at me. “It’sdelusion.”

I huffed out a breath. “Right. I’m the delusional one here.”

I steeled my jaw, spreading open my hoodie with my hands in my pockets as I took a step back.

“Walk away from her, Elliot,” I said casually, turning on my heel, giving him my back as I started to walk. “This was your last warning.”

“You talk a lot about love for someone who lets her fuck other men,” he called after me, and I paused. “Tell me, Moreau, do you feel loved when you share her? Or just desperate for whatever you can get?”

I spun back on a dime.

Walked.

Didn’t think. Didn’t speak. Just stalked toward him in the low light of the early evening, pulled my arm back, and swung.

My fist connected with his jaw in one clean, brutal swing—bone against bone, rage against arrogance. The impact snapped through my knuckles, reverberating down my arm, and Elliot’s head whipped sideways. He stumbled, caught off guard, his back slamming against the concrete pillar behind him.

He slid down half a foot, blood already blooming at the corner of his mouth, hand flying to his jaw like he couldn’t quite believe it.

I grabbed him by the front of his shirt, hauling him up, keeping him pinned against the concrete. “You’re lucky I have an ounce of self-control right now or your skull would be cracked open in the middle of an oil stain,” I growled. “Try it, try anything, try suing me or the guys or going to the press, try to ruin her life. I dare you, you fuckingscum. Because next time, it won’t just be me. It’ll be the three of us. And after that, it’ll be the entire goddamn team. Is that what you want?”

His lips parted, a hint of blood coating his teeth, his brows raised in what looked like genuine fear. “No,” he rasped.

“Good. Great, even,” I said sarcastically, letting go of his shirt and taking a step back. “Get your fucking shit together, stop working with her father, and get a life. Find someone new, if you even can.”

Elliot exhaled sharply through his nose, wincing as he straightened his shirt with shaking hands. He didn’t meet my eyes right away — he was too busy wiping the blood off his lip with the back of his hand. But when he did, his stare was sharp, hollowed. “Fine,” he said. “You win. Are you happy? I’m not stupid enough to think I could fight any of you.”

I watched as he moved, taking a step toward his car, turning his back to me. “That’s it?” I asked, my brow furrowing. “I just needed to punch you?”

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