Page 153 of The Pucking Wrong Rookie

Logan swore under his breath, pacing the room like a caged animal. “I’m going to kill him. I’m going to cut his dick off and ram it down his throat—and then I’m going to kill him,” he growled.

“You can’t do anything.” My voice broke, my hands gripping the edge of the nightstand to steady myself. “These men that participate in these things…they’re powerful. They don’t care about rules or the law. Theyarethe law. They take these types of exchanges very seriously. They’ll kill you too if you try to interfere.”

“We’ll see about that,” he bit out, his eyes blazing as he turned to me.

The conviction in his voice was unshakable, but it didn’t stop the fear clawing at my chest. Everett’s words echoed in my mind, a promise of destruction that felt inescapable.

Logan moved closer, his hands gripping my shoulders firmly. “Listen to me, Sloane. He’s not going to win. I don’t care what it takes or who I have to go through. You’re going to get your happily-ever-after.”

Happily-ever-after.

I’d never thought about those words until him.

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to fall into the safety of his words and let him shoulder the weight of this nightmare. But all I could think about was the cold, calculating tone in Everett’s voice. The certainty in it.

I nodded slowly, even though I wasn’t sure if I believed it. “Okay,” I whispered, though my chest felt like it was about to cave in. “Okay.”

But deep down, the terror refused to let go.

* * *

LOGAN

I leaned against the kitchen counter, phone pressed to my ear, my other hand gripping the edge hard enough to make my knuckles ache.

Lincoln answered on the second ring. “York.”

“Sloane’s uncle is trying to sell her in some kind of sick fucking auction, and I need to know what to expect.”

There was a beat of silence before Lincoln sighed. “Logan, why would I know something like that?”

I snorted, pacing now, the tension in my chest too much to keep still. “Because you’re likeBatman, that’s why. You know everything, even the dark, messed-up shit. Don’t act like you’re not three steps ahead of all of us.”

I wasn’t sure of all the details, but after Lincoln had met Monroe, he’d organized some kind of hostile takeover and basically pushed his father out of the business. The man had been involved in all sorts of shady shit, which was why it seemed obvious that Lincoln would know things.

There was a low laugh on the other end of the line. “You better never tell Ari you think I’m Batman. He’d never shut up about it.”

“Do you know how much these things usually go for or not?”

Another pause. “Millions,” he said finally, his voice grim. “It’s usually millions of dollars.”

“Fuck,” I groaned. “I figured you would say that.”

I paced the room, rubbing my face. “I’m going to need a hell of a lot more burger commercials for this.”

Lincoln’s humorless chuckle wasn’t reassuring.

I may have been a top draft pick, but NHL players didn’t make as much as football or basketball players. I’d had a lot of endorsements this year, but a lot of that money had also gone to paying Everett for Sloane in the first place.

“So…” I muttered, my mind racing. “Is there any way to stop these things?”

“No,” Lincoln said flatly. “Not unless you’re planning to take down an entire network of powerful men by five o’clock. They don’t play by any rules you can use against them.”

I cursed again, my hand tightening into a fist. The thought of those men sitting in some room, throwing around money like they were buying a new yacht while deciding Sloane’s future, made me want to destroy something. “Then I’ll have to buy her.”

The words came out harder than I intended, but as soon as they did, an icy surety rushed over my skin. If the only way to keep her safe was to play their game, then fine. I’d play it. I would just have to figure out how. I’d do whatever it took. I’d drain my accounts. I’d call my dad if it came down to it. Beg him to loan me money. Although…I didn’t know if he had that much cash available, even if I somehow convinced him to help me in the first place.

Fuck.

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