Page 36 of Shattered Hate

Packedforyou:Is your dad a boxer? Because you’re a knockout!

No, not quite a boxer.

I roll my eyes and scroll through more of these cheesy pickup lines, my disbelief growing with each one. Who actually falls for this stuff? Then my gaze lands on a message that seems somewhat normal.

Ashton808: Tonight at 9 work for you?

I glance up, looking to see if anyone is coming, then impulsively swipe the bottom of the screen. To my surprise, the screen unlocks without a password.

Oh, this is fucking great.

I chuckle to myself while opening the chat with Ashton808, skimming through the last few messages. These were sent when he was supposed to be tattooing me.

So instead of focusing on his work, he was busy texting some guy about meeting up tonight.

Fucking dick.

I exit the chat and sit here seething. Why am I so pissed off? I know exactly why.

It’s because he’s happy, and I can’t stand it.

This whole week has been a nightmare. Everyone likes him. Every single person on the team seems to be in his corner. I even caught the coach grinning at him the other day. Coach, smiling? That’s a rare sight, usually reserved for game victories. He never smiles in the off-season. Especially not at us players.

I thought Daxton joining the team would give me a chance to mess with him, to make him as miserable as he once made me. Make him regret ever coming back here.

But I can’t. I know if I even raise my voice to him in front of the team, they’d call me out faster than I could blink.

So now I’m sitting here, staring at Daxton’s unlocked phone and scrolling through his messages.

And then an idea strikes me, sending a flutter of excitement through my chest. My mind is on fire today. You fucking beauty.

I download the tracker app on Daxton’s phone and link his account to mine. As I open the app, his phone pops up on my screen.

It’s perfect.

I can track this prick wherever he goes. Even when he sneaks off to meet these little assholes. I might not be able to ruin him in Hawksview, but who says I can’t ruin him outside of it?

Chapter nineteen

Trayton

“Wanna go to the pub?” I murmur to Kal as I lie back against my headboard, eyes locked on the relentless white ceiling above. My arm aches tonight after today’s session. There was definitely more shading this time. I can’t stop looking at it in the mirror. I’ve already shown Kal five times. He was interested the first time but got bored with me shoving it in his face the second, third, fourth, and fifth times. I’ll give it an hour before showing him again.

“Na,” Kal mutters, too absorbed in his phone to even glance my way. For the past two weeks, every evening has been the same: him, lost in the glow of his screen, his mood darkening the moment that little rectangle lights up—far worse than his usual sulk. I narrow my eyes, straining to catch a glimpse of whatever has his attention, but the screen is too distant. With cautioussteps, I inch closer, bending over to steal a better look. A blonde girl fills the frame—who the hell is she?

I lean over his shoulder and, half jokingly, I add, “I mean, if I weren’t gay, then one thousand percent, yes.”

In an instant, Kal whirls around. His eyes widen in shock as he snatches his phone from his hand and hurls it upward, as if he’d been caught red-handed with his dick in his hand by his mom for the first time. “What the fuck, Trayton?” he yells, his anger palpable as he grabs me roughly by the shoulders. The force of his grip sends me stumbling backward, leaving a bitter taste of discomfort. He was always the laid-back one. Believe it or not, the guy usually has more jokes than me. But right now, he’s a volcano ready to erupt.

I manage a weak joke. “I give her a strong nine.”

But there’s no hint of amusement in his enraged stare—only shock and disbelief.

“Why the fuck are you peering over my shoulder and digging into my shit?” he growls. His fists clench at his sides, veins visibly pulsing against his skin. I recoil slightly but then straighten, lifting my chin defiantly as I push my hands out toward his rigid arms.

“And since when have you turned into this?” I snap, my resolve fraying as my last flickers of playfulness vanish. I’m fed up with his snappy moods at the moment.

“Is it because of a girl?” I shout now, unable to hold back any longer. “You’ve been acting like this because of some fucking girl?”

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