Maddox's POV:
The drive home was a blur of red taillights and pounding rain, the wipers slapping a rhythm that matched the throb in my jaw where Sinclair's fist had connected.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles whitening as the memory replayed: his rage-filled eyes, his insults and the way he'd shoved me like I was nothing.
That bastard! Always playing the hero where he's not even needed and always the one who got the girl. Kianna's pleading but protective face when she'd stopped him twisted something deep in my gut.
She still cared about him, even after everything. Even after I'd handed her the truth on a silver platter at Pearl Street.
Kianna's always weak, always…and that's why I tried to help her become tougher, but she thought I was harsh on her.
I pulled into the garage, the door rumbling shut behind me like a final curtain on the night's shitshow.
