Chapter 25
CADE
Carrington Row - Wexley University
I don’t do Row parties. Never have. Too loud.
Too drunk. Too full of testosterone and bad decisions.
However, it’s about to be my senior year, and something told me to show up tonight.
Maybe it was Cal. Maybe it was August. Maybe it was some unhinged whisper in my head that said, go see what all the damn fuss is about.
And I’m so glad I did. Because there she is.
She’s in deep purple, curves framed by slits and cutouts that scream confidence without begging.
Hair long and black, cheeks flushed, and those damn steel eyes.
Every move she makes is sharp and sinfully fluid, like the music’s part of her blood.
I’ve never seen anything like it. She dances like the floor belongs to her. And fuck me, maybe it does.
Ellie’s best friend. Her shadow. The girl who stole a jet ski on our family vacation and nearly got us banned from the entire resort. The girl I used to pick up from parties at two a.m. barefoot, laughing, and begging me for fries and mint chocolate chip like it was life or death.
I didn’t really see her then. Not until Nashville. And even then… not like this.
God, she’s beautiful.
Ellie’s beside her, golden and chaotic like always. Haley’s on the other side, sharp, hot, and untamed. Together they’re The Trifecta. But it’s her. The girl in the middle. The one I can’t look away from.
Cal’s arm slides around her waist as the crowd roars. He tips back a shot with her, smug as hell, wearing that stupid grin like he knows he’s touching something sacred. My jaw tightens.
I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t want. But I do.
Because it’s her. I feel it in my chest. I feel it in the sharp punch of breath I lose every time she laughs.
When her head tilts back and that smile flashes like a damn firework, I swear something inside me breaks.
She’s the one Lex and I swore we’d find.
And the craziest part? I’ve known her since before I could fucking drive.
I step off to the side, near the bar where the crowd thins and the view gets clearer.
I grab a beer I won’t drink, and let it sweat in my hand while I watch her.
She’s out there now, hips rolling to the beat, sweat glistening across her collarbone like diamonds.
Her girls are with her, a synchronized mess of mayhem and sin.
She flips her hair over her shoulder, grinds low with one of the football players, then spins away before he can even touch her. Unbothered. Untouchable. Unaware that every part of me is currently wired to her.
I slip a hand into my pocket and pull out my phone, heart pounding like I’ve already jumped off a damn cliff.
ME: Babe. I think I found her.
LEX: Cade. I love you. But don’t you fucking dare get my hopes up unless you’re sure.
LEX: You bring home another maybe and I swear to God it’s your ass on the line. Literally.
ME: It’s Bella
LEX: Bella? As in Ellie’s little glitter shadow you used to complain about all the fucking time? The one you had to drive to Philly to pick her drunk little ass up at three in the morning?
ME: Technically yes… but trust me. It’s her. I know it is.
LEX: I hope you’re right. Don’t fuck it up. I mean it. Your fucking ass Cade.
LEX: See you at home. I love you.
I smile, rolling my eyes even as my chest tightens. Typical Lex. Blunt as hell, dramatic as ever, but I know the truth underneath it. He wants this just as much as I do. Maybe more. He just doesn’t let himself hope anymore.
We met our freshman year. Wexley and Northvale aren’t exactly sister schools. Hell, they’re practically sworn enemies. And in the underground scene… the rivalry runs even deeper.
Meaner.
Bloodier.
They call it The Pit, Northvale’s infamous fight ring. Fight nights are brutal, invite-only, and sanctioned by The Hollow Kings.
That night, it was Cal versus Lex. I didn’t even want to go. I was there to support Cal, not fall in love with the enemy. But the second Lex walked in—tall, inked-up, all brute force and Russian fire—I was done for. We locked eyes across the ring and didn’t look away.
Cal won that night. Mostly because Lex got distracted by me. He didn’t even try to hide it. We talked after the fight. Then again the next night. By the end of the week he kissed me and then fucked me. Hard. Twice.
He’s chaos wrapped in leather and scars. All Bratva blood and biker rage. Tattoos that crawl down his arms like warnings. Co-leader of The Hollow Kings. A born predator with a shitty attitude.
And then there’s me, quiet, collected, and obsessive with my art. No one expected us to work. Not his world. Not mine. Especially not my parents.
At first they didn’t understand. The tattoos. The fighting. The danger. His family. It didn’t help that he’s from Northvale and I’m a Whitmore. Wexley legacy through and through. That rivalry runs deep and my parents weren’t exactly thrilled about me falling for the enemy.
But they’re trying now. Slowly. They see the way he treats me. The way he loves me, and I think they’re finally starting to get it.
We’ve been building this life together. Quietly. Fiercely. Ours.
But about a year ago, we started talking about adding a third. A girl. Someone who could hold her own between us. Someone who didn’t flinch from heat or softness.
We thought maybe we’d find her. We looked. We waited. But it never felt right. And lately, Lex has been pulling back.
“Maybe it’s just supposed to be us,” he said last week, his voice low and raw in the dark. We were tangled together, skin on skin, his thigh between mine, his breath hot against my neck. “You and me. Maybe that’s enough, babe.”
A hand claps my shoulder, jolting me back to the present. I nearly drop my beer as August grins down at me, red-faced and three drinks past subtle.
“What the hell you lookin’ at?” he slurs, then follows my gaze. “Oh. Shit. Bella?”
He barks out a laugh, loud and obnoxious. “Dude, aren’t you like gay or something? And like dating that Northvale fighter dude?”
“Bisexual,” I say flatly. “And none of your damn business, August.”
He stumbles for a second but recovers with that usual shit-eating grin. “Damn. My bad. Didn’t know you swung both ways.”
“Now you do.”
His eyes drift back to the floor, Bella in that deep purple, moving like pure temptation itself, laughing with Ellie like they own the damn night.
“She’s a lot, man,” he mutters. “Way outta your league.”
I almost laugh. “You mean the girl I’ve known since she was fifteen? Who once crashed a golf cart into the side of a hotel because she was chasing a raccoon with a churro?”
His smirk falters. Just for a beat.
“Thanks for your unsolicited opinion,” I add.
“I’m just saying,” he shrugs, trying to play it off. “Cal’s been into her forever. Pretty sure he’s already called dibs.”
“Dibs?” I glance at him. “Did we time-travel back to middle school?”
“Bro-code.”
“Cal treats bro-code like a damn buffet. Picks what he wants and skips the rest.”
August snorts. “And what’s your big brute of a boyfriend think about you drooling over some hot piece of ass? Where is he anyway?”
“One, Lex is at a Hollow Kings meeting.”
“And you’re not invited?” August grins. “The shame.”
“I’m not a King,” I say simply. “Two, we’ve both agreed to keep our eyes open.”
“For girls?”
“For a third. For her.”
He whistles. “Jesus. That’s some kinky shit, man. So what, you’re just gonna stand here all night and pretend you’re not obsessed?”
“Not pretending. Not obsessed.”
“Nah man, you’ve got that look. Like you’re already picking out a wedding date.”
I take a slow sip of my beer. “Only if the cake’s good.”
“You’re such a fucking Whitmore.”
I glance at him, calm as ever. “Funny. You’ve spent the last how many years trying to be one of us?” My gaze moves to Ellie. “Or at least fuck one of us.”
He opens his mouth, but I don’t give him the chance.
“What’s the saying?” I ask, letting my eyes drift back to Bella. “She’s just not that into you.”
We fall silent again but I don’t stop watching her. Not because I’m desperate. Because I’m sure. There’s something about her, about the way she moves, and the way the whole room bends around her without even realizing it.
She’s not the kind of girl you chase. She’s the kind you meet at the right moment. When the timing’s sharp enough to cut through doubt and the fire is already lit.
The kind of girl who once made me drive to Saratoga Springs because she lost her shoes at a party. The kind who always laughed when she was hungover. The kind who used to steal my hoodies and pretend she didn’t.
Of all the moments we’ve already had, I intend to make sure this moment is the one that counts.