Page 89 of Dirty Play

She opens her mouth, but I don’t let her speak.

“Someone couldn’t stand that she didn’t need to fuck her way to the top to get there.”

A muscle in her jaw ticks, recognition flashing in her eyes. I hear a low chuckle—Damien, enjoying the fucking show.

Christina sucks in a breath, gathering herself, but before she can even try to throw some weak-ass rebuttal my way, Ares snaps his fingers.

The team reacts instantly.

“I want to be traded,” Langley, our goalie, says first, arms crossed. “I’m not playing for a team that treats its own like shit.”

“Same,” Davidson mutters. “You think you can replace our PR rep? Go ahead. But you won’t have a team left to represent.”

One by one, they start speaking up.

“Not playing for this team if she’s not here.”

“She’s one of us.”

“This isn’t a fucking debate.”

The tension in the room cracks under the weight of it, and when I turn to Ares, he’s already looking at me. He gives a slow nod, and it clicks. He planned this. He fucking orchestrated this. He made sure I wasn’t walking in here alone.

For the first time in days, I feel that weight on my chest lighten.

If I wasn’t putting up a front that I was in on this, I would be fucking gawking right now. I bite the insides of my cheeks to keep my lips from parting, yet the warmth spreads through my chest like lava. This is my team. My guys. My family. They saw the state I was in all week and instead of beating me up about it, they decided to fight alongside me.

Christina looks around, her face pale, as she realizes exactly what’s happening. She’s cornered, outnumbered. She doesn’t just have me to deal with; she has an entire team ready to walk if she doesn’t back down.

“Players can’t make demands like this,” Christina scrambles for words while Rogers looks at us with something that’s really close to admiration.

“Can’t they? Cause I’m pretty sure we just fucking did.” I tilt my head to the side.

Christina’s not winning this one. Not when I spent the past week tearing myself apart over this. Not when I watched Livia walk out, humiliated, betrayed, thinking I wouldn’t fight for her.

Not when I know exactly who’s behind this shit.

“You’re bound by contracts. You can’t make demands like this,” Christina repeats as if we haven’t already thought of that.

“Our contracts clearly state that we can be traded.” I shrug. “So, we’ll demand to be traded if she’s not hired back with a new contract. No bullshit clauses about who she can or can’t date.”

The whole team is still seated, waiting. Silent. Expecting.

And when Ares moves, that silence turns dangerous. I already know what’s coming.

Ares stops by the empty chair next to Christina’s, looming, his presence swallowing up the entire fucking room. He doesn’t have to say a word. He doesn’t have to do anything. And yet, she tenses like he’s got a knife to her throat. Yeah, Ares will do that to you.

Then, finally, he speaks. “Who put the bug in your ear about our captain here, hm?”

“That’s confidential.” Christina’s face tightens.

“Not anymore.” Ares tilts his head, voice dropping to something low, even, and terrifying.

He doesn’t look at me, but I know my cue when I hear it. My whole team knows about Alegra’s advances; they’ve all been warned to stay away from her, but Damien and Ares are the two people who’ve heard every single story. They’re the ones who know the full extent of it.

I push off my chair and walk over to the window, where Christina’s stupid little framed awards are sitting on the sill.

“You know,” I muse, picking one up, flipping it over in my hands, “I was really hoping you’d be the one person in this fucking organization with a brain.” I glance at her.

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