Page 58 of Off the Ice

“How many teams?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“At least six. Probably more,” Jake said grimly. “I’ve found ties to front office execs, agents, even former players. The money trails all lead back to the same handful of shell companies, but the deeper I go, the worse it gets. This has been happening for years.”

I reached for the flash drive, my hand shaking slightly as I picked it up.

Jake kept his voice low. “What's in the news cycle now is all speculation. These are hard facts, if Frank got his hands on this, it would be the smoking gun he's been begging you for. I bet Frank is the one who gave whomever called Darren a heads up. He put you on this track, he pointed the direction. He has to be involved.”

I knew that. I had always known there was a chance that what I was uncovering was bigger than just one team, and that it would be big. But hearing it laid out so plainly, seeing the fear in Jake’s eyes. This was organized crime, operating in plain sight under the cover of professional sports.

My stomach twisted.

“If this is real—” I started.

Jake cut me off with a sharp look. “It’s real, Ava.”

I swallowed. “Then if I run this, it won’t just be a news story. It’ll be a takedown.”

Jake nodded. “And the people involved? They will retaliate.”

I knew that, too. I had spent years chasing stories that made people uncomfortable, exposing corruption and power plays that weren’t supposed to see the light of day. But this? This was different. This was bigger than anything I’d ever touched. And I had no idea what the cost would be.

My phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number: Stay out of this, Ava. You don’t know who you’re fucking with.

For the first time since this all started, real fear settled deep in my chest.

We had pushed too far.

And now, someone was pushing back.

Thirty One

Logan

Webothgotthesame text from Darren in our group chat.

Four words.

No punctuation.

No follow-up.

Darren

Someone’s in my apartment.

That was it.

My pulse shot into overdrive. I didn’t even think—just moved. Keys. Jacket. Door. Gone.

By the time I hit the stairs, I was already dialing Ava. She answered on the first ring.

“Logan—”

“I’m picking you up in five. We’re going to Darren’s.”

A sharp inhale. No hesitation. “I’ll be outside.”

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