Page 52 of Bar Down

Attached was a document—analytics Marcus had compiled on communication effectiveness within the organization. Data showing how press releases were crafted to emphasize certain narratives regardless of underlying performance metrics.

Taken out of context, it looked like exactly what Reed had accused her of in Boston: manipulating information to hide failures.

Stephanie sat back, cold realization washing over her. This was pure revenge. Reed was trying to recreate what had happened in Boston—using Marcus's analytics against her, forcing a wedge between them, isolating her from her allies. She tried to respond to the email, but it bounced back undelivered.

Her gaze drifted to Marcus again. He and Chenny were still reviewing something on the tablet, their expressions serious and focused. Whatever they were looking at, she needed to share this new email with them as soon as possible.

The plane hit a pocket of turbulence, jolting her back to awareness of her surroundings. She closed the email and tucked her tablet away, suddenly needing to be beside Marcus, to warn him about this new development. But approaching him now, with the entire team watching, would only confirm the gossip.

She pressed her forehead against the cool window, watching New Haven's coastline come into view below. Last night, in Marcus's arms, she'd allowed herself to believe they could beat this together. Now, with Reed's explicit threats and the knowledge that he was physically tracking them, doubt crept in.

What if their growing closeness was exactly what Reed wanted? A visible weakness he could exploit? The thought chilled her more than the deadline itself.

Her phone vibrated with a text from Marcus:Still working with Chenny. Nothing conclusive yet. Will talk when we land.

Stephanie typed back quickly:New email from the hacker. He wants more. I’m forwarding it to you now.

Across the cabin, she saw Marcus check his phone, his expression hardening momentarily before he gave her a subtle nod.

The plane began its final approach, the landing gear lowering with a mechanical groan. As they descended toward Connecticut, Stephanie felt as though they were diving straight into Reed's carefully laid trap. The only question was whether they'd spotted it in time to avoid being snared.

The clock was ticking down, and for the first time since this began, Stephanie wasn't sure they could stop it.

***

38HOURS REMAINING

Stephanie stood in the Chill's press box, clipboard clutched tightly in her hands as she watched morning skate unfold below. Players circled the ice in familiar patterns—stretching, shooting, running simple drills before tonight's game. Everything appeared normal. As if the organization wasn't teetering on the edge of chaos.

Her eyes found Marcus instantly among the defensemen. Even from this distance, she recognized the tension in his shoulders, the extra snap in his passes. To anyone else, he looked focused, professional. To her, he was skating with the weight of their countdown bearing down.

Below on the ice, practice shifted to special teams work. Marcus moved into position on the penalty kill unit, his focus visibly sharpening. Stephanie watched as he anticipated plays before they developed, his stick perfectly positioned to disrupt passing lanes. The team's rookie center attempted a cross-ice feed only to have Marcus intercept it smoothly, clearing the zone with a powerful sweep.

Coach Vicky nodded approval. Even under extreme pressure, Marcus performed. Compartmentalized. Executed.

Could she do the same?

She was meeting with Jack Westfield soon to give her presentation that she and Marcus had been working on before all this nonsense with Reed and the hacker happened. She had to go on as if nothing was happening. She could only hope that Chenny would find some proof or a way to stop Reed’s blackmail from happening.

With one final longing look at Marcus, Stephanie left for her meeting. She got her game face on and cleared her mind on her walk to the conference room. Jack was already there, waiting for her. She sat across from him, trying to project professional confidence as she set up her presentation.

"The road trip exceeded expectations," he said, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "Three wins, positive media coverage, merchandise sales up twelve percent. Darby and Darby is pleased."

"The team performed exceptionally well," Stephanie agreed. "The chemistry is really clicking."

"Chemistry." His mouth curled slightly. "An interesting choice of words from someone who works so closely with our analytics department. I would have expected more data-driven terminology."

The subtle dig made her wonder if she was imagining things or if he was also trying to figure out if she and Marcus were dating. She wondered if he was involved in the betting pool as well. She maintained her pleasant expression as she took him through the PowerPoint presentation she and Marcus had worked up.

"Numbers tell an important story,” she said in conclusion. “but fans connect with the human elements. My job is translating one into the other."

"And how would you characterize your translation relationship with Adeyemi? I understand you've had differences of opinion in the past."

Stephanie kept her voice measured, neutral. "Marcus and I approach situations from different perspectives, which ultimately strengthens our messaging. Data plus narrative creates a more complete picture."

"Interesting." Westfield leaned forward slightly. "Reed mentioned your previous reluctance to incorporate analytics in Boston."

The casual mention of Reed sent ice through her veins, though she kept her expression unchanged.

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