Owned by the Triplet

I stared at the bottom of my third tequila shot, the lime wedge looking as shriveled and pathetic as my love life.

The club was loud-bass thumping through the floorboards and the smell of alcohol clinging to everything-but I felt myself floating. Three years. I'd given Marcus three years of my life, my notes for his exams, and my heart, only to find him pressed against Emiliana in our shared apartment.

"Another one, Elena?" the bartender asked, leaning over the counter.

"Make it a double," I muttered, sliding my last twenty across the table. "I'm celebrating being a complete idiot."

I didn't want to think. I didn't want to feel. I just wanted to drown the image of Emiliana's blonde hair fanned out on my pillows. My body itched, fuck i just wish I got my hands on her, but I ignored the thought immediately, reaching for the fresh glass.

"Elena, baby, please. Just listen to me."

The voice made my stomach turn. I didn't even have to look up to know it was Marcus. I could smell his cheap cologne and the desperation rolling off him.

"Go away, Marcus," I said, my voice flat.

He grabbed my stool, spinning me around to face him. He looked like a mess-his shirt untucked, his eyes bloodshot. "It was a mistake. Emiliana meant nothing. She came on to me, you know how she is. You can't just throw away three years because of one bad night."

"One bad night?" I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "I saw you, Marcus. You didn't look like you were having a bad time. Get out of my face."

I turned back to my drink, but he wasn't having it. He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin. "Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you. I've done everything for you. You're a scholarship kid from the dirt, Elena. Who else is going to want you?"

"Let go of me," I snapped, trying to pull away. The bar was crowded, but everyone was minding their own business. "You're hurting me."

"I'll let go when you-"

"She told you to let go."

The voice didn't come from behind me; it seemed to come from the very air itself. It was deep, smooth, and carried a weight that made the hair on my arms stand up.l

Marcus froze. I looked up and felt my breath hitch.

A man was standing a few feet away. He was tall-tall enough that he made Marcus look like a child. He was wearing a dark charcoal suit that looked like it cost more than my entire tuition. His hair was dark, neatly pushed back, and his eyes... they were a piercing, icy blue that seemed to glow in the dim light of the bar.

"Mind your business, pal," Marcus spat, though his grip on my arm loosened.

The stranger didn't move. He just tilted his head. "I am making it my business. Take your hand off her, or