The Next Line ( The Lineage Series #2)

Joshuan

Three years later..

The roar of the crowd shakes the floor beneath my boots. Every breath I take feels sharp. Clean. Familiar.

It's been three years of building my body into a weapon. Of pushing every ounce of heartbreak into something that could strike back. That could endure. That could win.

And now?

Now it's round ten.

And I'm still standing.

My opponent throws a left hook—sloppy. I duck, shift, and slam a right uppercut into his jaw. He stumbles. The ref circles closer.

The crowd rises to their feet.

Chants of my name echo like thunder.

"Carvalho! Carvalho! Carvalho!"

I ignore them.

I ignore the noise.

I focus on the man in front of me. The one who wants what I've bled for. Trained for. Sacrificed for.

He lunges again. I sidestep, pivot, deliver a gut-cracking blow to his ribs.

He drops to his knees.

And doesn't get back up.

I win.

The ref raises my hand.

The belt is fastened around my waist.

Cameras flash. Commentators scream. My team storms the ring. Diego throws an arm around my shoulder, grinning like a lunatic.

But I'm quiet.

I stare into the flood of people and spot no one I know. Not the face I used to search for. Not the eyes that used to calm me down in the locker room before every fight.

She's not here.

She hasn't been here for three years.

And still—I think of her first.

Always.

The announcer steps forward. Mic in hand. Suit gleaming under the spotlights.

"Joshuan Carvalho!" he shouts over the noise. "Still undefeated! Still champion! Tell us, what's going through your mind right now?"

I breathe hard. Sweat dripping down my spine. My heart still pounding.

"Feels good," I say simply.

The crowd cheers again.

The announcer laughs, pressing. "Come on, man—you've worked for this moment. You've been silent outside the ring for years. No interviews. No press. The people want to know—what's next for the champ?"

I pause.

I take the mic.

And I look directly into the nearest camera.

The one I know she might see if she's watching from across the world.

I stare through it.

Through the years.

Through the silence.

And say—

"Paris."

𐦟𐦟𐦟𐦟

The bourbon goes down smoother than I remember.

Jamie sits across from me in a booth near the back. One hand around his glass. The other drumming on the table, like he knows something's coming.

I don't draw it out.

"Jamie," I say, my voice low but steady, "I need to ask you something."

He leans back. "This sounds serious."

"It is."

He waits.

"I want to ask Aurora to marry me," I say.

Just like that.

No hesitation. No dressing it up.

His brows lift. But he doesn't speak.

"I've loved her since we were kids," I continue. "Even when we were too young and too stupid to name it. Even when she left. Even when she chose her dream. I never stopped."

He still says nothing.

"I know I hurt her by not fighting harder," I admit. "By letting her go without telling her what she meant to me. But I'm not that guy anymore."

I take a breath.

"And I want to do this the right way."

I reach into my pocket, pull out the ring box, and set it on the table between us.

"Before I go to Paris... I need your blessing."

Jamie looks at the box.

Then at me.

Then back at the box.

And laughs.

"Jesus," he says, shaking his head. "You sound like a guy asking her dad."

"She's your sister, man. I had to ask."

His smile fades, just slightly.

"You know," he says, "I used to think no one would ever be good enough for her. Not because she's perfect—but because she's stubborn, and sharp, and soft when no one's looking. And if anyone hurt her... I'd take their head off."

I nod. "I'd expect you to."

"But," he adds, "I've seen what she was like without you. And I've seen what you were like without her."

He takes a sip of his drink. Swallows hard.

"She makes you better. You make her braver."

Then, he lifts his glass toward me.

"You have my blessing."

Relief crashes through me like a wave I didn't realize I was holding back.

I lift my glass in return.

"To Aurora."

We drink.

Then Jamie smirks. "You know if she says no, I'm still keeping this bourbon, right?"

I laugh, setting the glass down.

"She won't say no."