Page 121 of Undisputed Player
“And after?” Connor asked, his voice deceptively calm as he cradled Sierra, his chin resting on top of her head.
Jax's eyes hardened. “After, we take care of this.”
Once the coach disappeared, Jax pressed his forehead to mine. “Three hours,” he promised. “Then I'll be back, and we'll figure this out. Together. I’ve taken care of Leo at Jovie’s, don’t worry.”
As he reluctantly prepared to leave, Adrian moved to position himself by the door. With an almost casual movement, he produced a knife from somewhere—a sharp blade with a jade edge that matched his eyes.
He began to toss it from hand to hand, the metal catching the overhead lights as it spun through the air. His usual playful demeanor was gone, replaced by feral and focused intensity.
Toffee peered out from his carrier mesh, and Adrian reached down to stroke the cat's head, pausing his knife routine. "Don't worry," he murmured, and I wasn't sure if he was talking to the cat or to me. "No one's getting past me."
Jax stood slowly, his hands reluctant to leave my skin. "Promise me," he said, his voice rough. "Promise me you'll stay right here."
"I promise," I whispered.
He kissed me then, soft and desperate, pouring all his fear and love and rage into the contact. When he pulled away, his eyes were bright with unshed tears.
"I love you," he said, the words torn from somewhere deep in his chest.
I stared at him, shocked, but he didn’t wait for me to respond. He kissed my forehead and disappeared, the door closing behind him with a soft click. He never said those words to me before, those words that held so much trust and heart.
I felt Jax’s absence immediately. The suite suddenly felt too large and empty, despite the presence of the guys and Sierra.
“He's going to be okay,” Sierra whispered, understanding my fear. “And so are we.”
Connor, who had been silent since Jax left, turned to study me with those dark, assessing eyes. Without a word, he moved closer while Sierra remained curled against his chest.
I raised my eyes to meet his, surprised by the steady calm I found there.
“You're safe now,” he promised quietly. “I won't let anything happen to you.”
There was no false reassurance in his words, just quiet certainty. He shifted, keeping one arm around Sierra while extending his other arm in silent invitation. When I hesitated, his expression softened slightly.
“I've got you both,” he said, the rumble of his voice somehow grounding. “Sierra trusts me with her life. You can too.”
Sierra peeked up from his shoulder, giving me a small nod of encouragement. Tentatively, I moved closer, and Connor's arm came around me, solid and steady. Unlike Jax's passionate embraces, Connor's touch was clinical, protective rather than possessive, but no less comforting for it.
“Steady breaths,” he instructed, his hand a warm weight on my shoulder. “In through your nose, out through your mouth, like Sierra.”
He kept her pressed to his chest, his hand stroking her hair, his lips brushing her temple every few breaths. She matched her breaths to his, and I realized he was doing the same for me, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm, anchoring us both.
As I followed his directions, I felt some of the panic begin to recede. Adrian continued his silent vigil by the door, knife dancing between his fingers, but Connor remained focused on creating a fortress of calm around us.
“I've been where you are,” he said quietly. “Sierra has had her share, too. The fear doesn't go away, but you learn to work through it.”
It struck me that this man, who rarely spoke more than two sentences together, was deliberately making space for me in his protection, extending the fierce guardianship he showed Sierra to include me.
“Jax will fight better knowing you're with us,” he added. “And no one gets past Adrian or me. That's a promise.”
I understood why Sierra trusted them so completely now. Connor and Adrian didn't offer empty words or false comfort. They offered something far more valuable: absolute security.
And somehow, I’d been included in that circle of protection.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Estelle
The VIP box was a world away from the chaos of the hallway where gunshots had echoed just hours before. Plush leather seating curved around a glass wall overlooking the arena, giving us an unobstructed view of the ring below. The space was perfectly climate-controlled, the air crisp and cool against my still-flushed skin.
