Page 82 of The Stallion
“Let these Sirens show you how to—” Asher and I yelled in sync right before the chorus from “Abracadabra” by Qveen Herby intercepted our last word, seamlessly transitioning between our war cry and the start of our routine.
Every stunt, tumbling pass, and dance had been nailed to perfection. Not a single flyer was dropped or transition made out of turn. The team’s performance was fucking flawless.
Just as we completed the final pyramid formation to end our routine, the music was abruptly cut off—our finale interrupted as five uniformed law enforcement officers approached us in the center of the mat.
The entire hall fell into an eerie silence as every flyer was gracefully lowered to the ground. The youngest-looking of the officers held out a thick yellow envelope while stalking straight toward Asher and me.
Shit…
“BriaRobins.”
Asher and I vaguely glanced at each other, neither of us uttering a word.
Inhaling a deep breath, I squeezed her hand tightly and nodded solemnly before releasing it and stepping forward.
“That’s me…”
He gestured with his head before two officers came up from behind me, shoving my teammates aside and grabbing hold of my wrists, one immediately securing them into a set of handcuffs.
“Miss Robins, you are under arrest for the murder of Connor Harrison. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will—”
The officer’s voice was drowned out by all the gasps of shock and whispers of sheer horror at what he had just announced aloud.
The murder of Connor Harrison…
My eyes frantically searched the sea of disturbed spectators until they met those of my husbands, standing just off to the side of one of the main stands as the officers dragged me off the mat and away toward the nearest exit.
And instead of sending Dallas a pleading look of innocence to save me, as should have been expected, considering the circumstances.
I smiled—like there wasn’t a single shred of denial to be had.
Chapter 33
Bria
TWOMONTHSPRIOR.
Connor had only been gone for roughly two weeks, but it had felt far longer given our fight just before he’d left.
All we did these days was bicker and disagree on the stupidest of things—from where we went out for dinner to whose friends’ event we’d have to skip simply because another had double-booked us… the list went on.
Our communication was tragic—nonexistent. And to make matters worse,the sex—I had spent more money on ways to get myself off than on overpriced, trendy clothes to impress the company he so frequently kept.
Always upper class and invariably pompous as fuck.
If I had known that this would’ve been the path I was paving for my future self, I wouldn’t have listened to Asher.
I shouldn’t have put all my fucking eggs into one egocentric basket.
From what I could remember, Connor’s lack of interest in our relationship started around the three-year mark, which ultimately baffled me.
As to how we managed to make it an additional three years past that point? No fucking clue. My only assumption was cheating, and even though knots twisted in my stomach at the thought, I pushed to be better and worked my fucking ass off to gain his affections that I had seemingly lost.
Little did I know that those feelings would never be reciprocated… ever again.
As a last-ditch effort to mend the chasm that had formed between us, I had canceled my plans with Asher and the girls to surprise Connor upon his return.
While we didn’t actually live together—wanting space for both of our chaotic schedules—I still had a personal key to his townhouse and, as always, let myself in.
