Page 114 of Through the Flames
I shifted into coverage drills, mirroring the receiver’s routes with tight, fluid steps. My body burned — calves screaming, lungs heaving — but I didn’t slow.
Every drill was a countdown to the Combine. The stakes weren’t just high; they were fucking everything.
My hands slapped the turf as I broke into a sprint, chasing down a simulated interception. Despite my fatigue, I absorbed every correction Coach shouted, knowing this would set me apart.
Next was the weight room. I powered through sets of squats and cleans, the iron clanging as I built the explosive strength I’d need to dominate on the field.
Sweat poured down my face, stinging my eyes and mingling with the ache in my muscles. But the pain fueled me, reminding me the Combine was just a week away.
During a quick break, my phone buzzed.
Ella: Match went well! Sierra surprised me *celebration emoji*
Ella: Gonna hang with her for a bit
I ran a hand through my damp hair, a ghost of a smile flickering. I typed back without hesitation.
Hunter: Proud of you.
Hunter: Also, I know that’s code for tacos and margaritas
Then, almost automatically, my eyes flicked to my screen again, to the confirmations, the little receipts, and the notifications pinging quietly in the background.
The boys who had messed with my girl and made her shrink into herself for months were really not having the best time lately.
Stetson, the little ringleader, had called in sick just as I engineered a minor scheduling conflict.
Mason’s email to a contractor bounced and was flagged for review, as I’d planned.
Carver’s beloved truck had just broken down, and it so happened that not a single shop in the vicinity could find the spare parts he desperately needed.
What a pity.These inconveniences were obviously not severe enough to destroy lives, but they were precise enough tosting.
A slow, satisfied grin spread across my face. Seeing the consequences ripple out, knowing each small inconvenience was a silent acknowledgment of my promise to her, made every drop of sweat on this field feel worth it.
Coach’s eyes locked on me, cutting and exacting. “Let’s go! One more round!” His tone brooked no argument.
I hit the agility ladder, my feet pounding in a blur as I steeled my mind against the exhaustion. Footwork, speed, and reaction time — the trifecta that could make or break my draft. Every rep mattered.
Finally, when my muscles trembled and sweat drenched my shirt, the drills stopped. I collapsed onto the bench, gasping for air, my heart hammering.
Eyes burning with focus, I wiped the slick from my face, my mind racing with all I still needed to prove.
Then my phone vibrated again.
S: Come see me.
Thirty Two
Hunter
The prison gates slammed shut behind me, the sounds of the outside world fading away. Inside, the visiting room was cold and sterile.
Fluorescent lights humming overhead, the faint metallic scent of steel bars lingering in the air.
Sasha sat there like he owned the fucking room, even in state-issued gray. His buzzed undercut only accentuated the sharp lines of his face — high cheekbones, angular jaw, and stubble framing a mouth twisted in something between a grin and a dare.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite troublemaker,” he said, fingers drumming lazily on the table. “You come bearing problems, or are we just here to chat?”
