Page 106 of The Wrong Play

The first thing I noticed?

The sound.

Wind howled past me, whistling through the unfinished beams like a fucking ghost orchestra. Every step forward made the gravel crunch, every shift in weight had the ledge feeling one gust away from taking me out.

This was so much worse than a football field.

On the field, I could see the chaos coming. I could anticipate the hits. I could feel the pressure but control it.

Here?

Nothing.

Just the wind, the height, and the fucked-up knowledge that one wrong step meant a headline that would probably read something like, “College Football Star Mistakes Himself for a Bird.”

I inched forward, feeling with my feet. My bare feet—since I’d been brought to this trial dressed in only my jeans. Considering I went to bed naked, that meant someone had handled me while I was unconscious.

“I hope you enjoyed the show, assholes!” I yelled into the night. “Must be tough knowing you’ll spend the rest of your lives feeling inferior in the face of my dick size. Hope it was worth it.”

These weren’t even my favorite pair of jeans. They could have at least managed to put me in those.

I shivered, because it got disturbing if I thought about it for too long.

One step.

Another.

Each one slow.

Each one deliberate.

Each one made me fully aware of the thousand feet of nothingness below me.

The fucked-up part? The one that probably made me a certifiable badass and something I would definitely be rubbing in Parker’s and Matty’s faces…

I liked it.

The rush. The pure, unfiltered adrenaline tearing through my veins.

My heart pounded, my body thrumming with that same high I got on the field—only bigger.

Darker.

Something about it felt good. The risk. The recklessness.

The certainty that one bad move could cost me everything.

I was made for this.

Just as I reached the edge, the whisper of a sound cut through the wind—a faint scuff of movement, barely there, but enough to send every nerve in my body firing at once.

My muscles tensed, instincts kicking in before my brain could catch up. The hairs on my arms rose, my breath stilled in my chest, and some deep, primal part of me screamed that I was no longer alone.

Before I could turn—before I could react—something slammed into my back.

A shove.

Hard. Brutal. Right between my fucking shoulder blades.

---