Page 196 of Make the Play

Heavy and fast. Angry now.

I don’t look back, I just keep running. The sidewalk isn’t smooth. It juts in uneven patches and dips, every step jarring through my bones. My balance wavers and my vision fractures, but I keep going, propelled by panic and something deep in my chest that refuses to quit.

I turn sharply down the nearest alley, searching for shelter because I know I’m gonna pass out soon. It’s narrow and dark, lit only by a flickering bulb above a service door. Shadows stretch long and distorted against the brick, and the cold stings against my face.

I clip the edge of a dumpster with my thigh and stumble, hard. Pain slices through my skin, sharp and hot, but I’m mostly grateful for it because it shocks some clarity into me. But the second I slow, he’s on me.

His hand fists in the back of my coat, jerking me backward, and I scream.

It rips from my throat, hoarse and broken, more of a growl than a proper sound, but it’s enough to surprise him momentarily. I twist and swing wildly, catching him in the chest with my elbow.

“You little bitch.” A snarl ruptures from him. “He’s gonna thank me, one day. When it all falls apart and he sees you forwhat you are. A distraction, just another puck bunny who got too close.”

He grabs me by the wrist and shoves me hard against the wall, the brick scraping against my coat, the impact knocking the air from my lungs.

“Let me go!” I yell, slamming my heel down on his foot, writhing like a wild thing. “You pathetic fanboyfreak!”

His grip tightens, and I feel the skin at my wrist pinch, the bones grinding.

I punch him with my free hand—it’s weak and wild, but it lands. He jerks to the side, and I scramble free for half a second before he catches me again, dragging me by the arm toward the dumpsters, trying to get us out of sight.

I scream again, louder this time, even though my throat burns and the edges of my vision pulse red.

He slaps me.

It’s open-palmed and across the cheek, enough to send me reeling sideways momentarily, but I don’t stop moving. I claw back at him, my nails purposefully catching his skin, and he shoves me again, harder.

“You ruined everything,” he seethes. “Now it’s all interviews and photo ops and PDA bullshit. You turned him into something soft.”

In the very distance, I think I hear sirens, but I can’t be certain. My brain fog is too thick, my adrenaline too strong, and I suddenly realize that maybe what I’m hearing is simply wishful thinking. Maybe they’re not for me, or maybe I can’t hear anything, I’m justhopingI can.

But Nate hears them, too. His head snaps toward the street, eyes narrowing. “What the fuck…”

He turns back to me, grip tightening on my arm.

“You did something,” he spits. “You—what did you do?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I smile. The kind of smile I save for assholes in the boardroom who underestimate me. Sharp and shaky and soaked in defiance.

“Guess I’m not as innocent as I look.”

His face twists, first with confusion, then fury.

“You think you’re clever?” he growls. “You think any of this matters when you’ve already—fuck—why isn’t it working?”

His hand fists in my coat again, dragging me away from the edge of the alley. I stumble, but I don’t fall.I’m not going to fucking fall.Instead, I twist and claw as he moves me, anything to slow him down.

“You drugged me wrong, you dumb fuck,” I hiss. “Should’ve studied up before trying to take down a girl who grew up scrapping with assholes just like you.”

He growls and lets go of me long enough to shove me back against the brick again.

“You think this is funny? You think any of this is foryou? You didn’t build this. You don’t get to wear his name like you’ve earned it.”

His voice cracks with wild desperation.

“I did this for him,” he hisses. “You were changing everything. He used to be all about the game, not some PR puppet with a girlfriend in the press tunnel and a celly song in the stands. Hedoesn’t need you.”

My head spins, but the sound of sirens is louder now.Closer.

---