"Let's hear it for the champion." Priya angled the bottle and popped the cork, launching a spray of champagne bubbles into a room of heavy faces and guarded expressions.

"Told you this isn't necessary," Shayne said, lifting her head. She sat on a set of steps separating the massive hotel suites living room from the dining space, flute dangling from disinterested fingers.

Beyond the wall of windows, Vegas spread out from the top of the penthouse suite like a carpet of lights against the liquid black of night. A glorious, throbbing rush of endless energy. She'd had come once or twice in the past, but this was her first time in the city of sin with her Sisters.

Between the final prep with Asher and her coaching team, the press conferences, weigh ins and meeting with UFC organizers, this was the first moment she had with all of them together and alone. They'd have the rest of the night in Vegas to celebrate and first thing tomorrow morning they'd fly out with her family on the private jet to Spain and stand shoulder to shoulder while her brother ascended the throne as the country's new King.

An important and monumental occasion in Spanish history to follow on the heels of her victory in the ring. So why wasn't anyone the least bit happy about it?

Eshe was cryptic and not her usual bright, effervescent self. Isobel had barely said more than a few meagre words all afternoon and occasionally lanced Shayne with a seething glare. According to Priya, Cait had spent more time at the bar kicking back shots with tourists then she had with any of them. And Shayne couldn't pull herself out of her funk. Anyone looking at her right now would swear she'd been the one who'd hit the mat in the first round instead of her opponent.

But you did lose, she thought darkly.

Her fingers itched for her phone, which she'd turned off and abandoned in her room, to swipe through her messages in search of something she already knew wouldn't be there. Rita had ignored her for two solid days—calls and texts—until today when she'd deigned to send out final email barely an hour before Shayne was due to hit the ring.

I thought you should know that I've accepted a new position with the Chairman of the Belgian senate, and have therefore terminated employment with the Melo Diez Carabantes Fitz-James Stuart household effective immediately.

Brief, blunt and brutal.

Single sentence and nothing more but she'd spent the rest of that hour rereading every single word as her heart cracked wide open, but Shayne was used to this kind of pain. She could take the hits. That's what she trained for. To transform the punishing agony of bruises and broken bones into strength. Rita was running away, and Shayne was going to let her. That didn't mean she was happy about it.

In fact, she was pissed. Furious.

And had poured all of that seething emotion into her fight against Pacheco, knocked her out clean and cold in the second minute of the first round. A win that should've made her feel better. But it didn't.

"You won," Priya emphasized, yet again, as she had when she'd placed the call to room service to send up a chilled bottle. "That's cause for celebration."

Shayne snorted. "It was a paltry two minutes."

"Two glorious minutes. On screen. Worldwide. And now you have a major coup under your belt to—why am I selling you on this?" Snatching Shayne's flute, Priya poured to the rim and shoved it back into her hand, sloshing champagne. "Here, drink and for the love of god can someone cheer the f*ck up? Who are you girls and where are my Sisters? Why are we not laughing, smiling—?"

"None for me." Isobel set her hand over her untouched glass, eyes sharp, as Priya circled around. "I'm not in the mood to celebrate."

Draining her glass, Shayne snorted. "Gee, thanks."

"I'll have hers," Cait chimed in, wiggling a hand. "All the booze. Right here. Gimme."

"I think you've had enough," Priya raised a warning finger before flicking her attention back to Isobel and Shayne. "Seriously, guys, what's going on?"

Silence. No one wanted to meet her gaze, or answer the question. So, never the one to take no for an answer, Priya rolled up her sleeves. A clear indication that she'd had enough with playing nice. "You," she honed in on Eshe. "Let's start with you."

Dark eyes that had pinned to the window, flitted up to hers in alarm. "Me? Why me? I'm fine."

"Pri, give it a rest," Shayne grumbled.

"You've been distant ever since the premiere." Undeterred, Priya folded her arms. "Out with it."

Lips sealed, Eshe winged her head in a quick no as Cait muttered something but too low for anyone to catch. So, without losing momentum, Priya pinned her gaze to her next target. Cait. "Well? You were with her in Paris and you're also in a snit."

In the face of Priya's frustration, Cait snorted, eyes sheened with more than booze. "What's wrong with me is that I've only got my neck in a noose. A dead woman walking, but who cares? Let's carry on with the festivities." But like with all things poisoned, once lanced, the poison flowed. Unable to stop. "I put my ass on the line for you." Cait hooked her leg on the couch and swung around to glare hotly at Eshe whom had done her level best to keep at board distance. "And now it's all a mess. My life, my career—massacred because you bailed when I needed you most."

"Oh that's rich," Eshe quipped. Tears welling. "Can't you take accountability for once?"

"Accountability," Isobel mused. She'd said the word whisper soft but it lashed out with the booming force of thunder putting an end to their squabbles. "Interesting word, isn't it Shayne?"

"Don't drag me into this," Shayne pushed to her feet and set down her flute sharply on the coffee table shaped like a mirror-faced Rubik cube. "I won't get in the middle of those two."

As Shayne wound around the back of the couch, her thoughts on disappearing into her room and escaping into her own bitterness, Isobel's voice rose up behind her. Sharp with accusation.

"You don't think there's something you should be held accountable for, Shay? Nothing at all?"

I wonder what the little Miss would think if she knew what you did?

The threat echoed back to her in the rasping voice of the investigator. He hadn't bothered calling again after that late night phone call a few weeks ago, so Shayne had set the matter aside. Considered it forgotten—that he'd backed off, like most gutless bullies looking to squeeze an easy mark only to find the mark wasn't one to go down easy.

Shayne closed her eyes, muttered a silent curse. "Now is not the time for this, Bel."

"No." She could hear the hard steps of Isobel's heels as she approached, flames in her voice. "You don't get to do that, Shayne. You don't get to tell me what to do."

A tremor worked through Shayne's shoulders, it was the vibration of instinct that told her Isobel was spoiling for a fight and her temper, a barely leashed animal, longed to answer in kind. Two minutes in the ring with Pacheco hadn't been nearly enough for her to spend the violence of her own inner tempest, all she needed was the barest nudge for it to spin wildly out of her control.

Shayne faced her, arms spread. "Fine, you wanna go there, let's go there. Yes, I did it. It was a shitty thing to do—I know, I'm sorry, but I'd do it again, Bel, if it meant stopping you from ruining your life."

Isobel jerked as if she'd been slapped. Colour draining from her face but the heat of rage still bright in her eyes. "How can you be so...blasé about this?"

"Did what?" Eshe murmured.

"Yeah, I'm equally confused," Cait chimed in.

"What'd ya want me to say?" Shayne raged, drowning them out. "You were going to waste away your whole life shackled to someone like him. I had to do something."

"How can you say that?" Isobel shot back, eyes blazing. Hand pressed to her chest. "You know what he means to me."

Wedging between them, Priya pried them apart, worry and concern pulling at her features. "Take a breath, both of you, and let's start from the beginning. Shayne, why don't you explain?"

Shayne laughed dryly, tossed up her hands. "What's to explain? Kyle was no good for her—you all know that. It was no state secret that he was dog, but she was too f*cking in love with him to see it for herself. Not when the rumors spread like what really went down when he celebrated with the basketball team Montreal after they won the tournament in high school, or when that Jordan girl said he got a little too hands on during a study session. So I took steps. Because f*ck if I was going to watch my best friend marry him."

Her gaze whipped to the circle of faces, from Priya to Cait and Eshe to Isobel.

Isobel. Her eyes were wide pools of stunned blue. Wide as mirrors that Shayne could see herself reflected deep within them along with the blinding hurt of dazed disbelief. Realization struck far too late. They weren't arguing about the same thing.

Sh!t. She didn't know.

"What...did you do." she whispered. Soft, so soft. Tears spilling.

Well, she'd put her foot in it now. Dislodging it wasn't going to cost her more than a few teeth. Resigned to her fate, Shayne dragged heavy hands down her face. "I paid an investigator to watch Kyle for the two weeks he was in Miami. If he found anything, the investigators job was to bring the video to me. But when the time came, decided to slap it up on YouTube. He's done a few similar viral stunts in the past, mainly with celebrities—he'd sell what he got to media and magazines, so he had the chops to make it...spread. By the time I found out, it was too late."

Eshe gasped.

Cait swore.

Priya could only stare. "You..."

"How? How could you be so cruel?" Isobel ground out, her words barely distinguishable.

"You were so blinded, Bel. I didn't know how else to make you see who Kyle really was before it was too late."

"So then why didn't you come to me instead of...Do you have any idea what I've been through? The humiliation and shame? And Kyle...God."

"Stop it, Bel. Stop making him into a victim. What Kyle did in Miami wasn't the first time."

"You don't know that." Despite the vehemence in her voice, the burgeoning doubt was obvious in her eyes. An entire relationship couldn't be swept aside overnight and most women were likely to forgive a first offense—not realizing this was a deep rooted pattern of behaviour and that for men like Kyle, the first time they were caught was rarely the first time they strayed.

"Yes. I do. So do you, Bel."

Isobel shucked Cait's hands from her. "How can you defend this?"

"Because, Shayne's right—Kyle was all kinds of wrong and there was no explaining that to you in a way you'd actually hear."

Galled, Isobel spun on her heel, looking to each of them. "You all felt this way and said nothing. For years." She pinned Shayne last. "You were my maid of honour."

"And I did my job."

"By blindsiding her," Eshe interjected, finding her voice in all the madness. "That's not what friends do. We're supposed to be honest. Have each other's backs. Not stab them."

"That's rich," Cait scoffed.

"Oh, come off it, Cait." Eshe reared. "'Course you'd take Shayne's side. You two make a fine pair. Messing with people's lives like it's a sodding game."

"Enough!" Taking off her lacquered black loubie, Priya slammed it on the table like a gavel—mirror cracked—Silencing the chaos. "What is going on? What is happening to us?" Shaken, tears in her eyes, she whipped her gaze to each of them, her sisters. "We swore a vow, ladies. A vow. Look at us."

They stood in a fragmented circle, all disjointed and disconnected. Sharp edges and broken lines. Wrong. And in that broken silence emotions swelled, hot and huge, a violent storm of all that was said and couldn't back taken back—it swelled, threatening to shatter their very foundation.

You've done this. The words and shame echoed inside of her. All you do is cause pain.

Shayne turned on her heel. Walked through the front door of the suite and shut it behind her. She didn't look back.

**AN**

Wow. Okay. That was a brutal scene to write, and admittedly, I had a hard time with handling all these emotions coming to a head. These girls have seriously hit rock bottom. Time will tell if their friendship is as strong as they thought it was. 

I can't believe we're almost at the end.