Page 68 of A Game of Ruck

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And I grin.

Because today?This isn’t just a match.

I’m not out here for rankings or stats.Not for the scouts or the press.

I’m fighting for my life.

I’m fighting for her.

For us.

The first hit comes in brutal.

One of their flankers tries to blindside me, but I plant low and drive into him like a fucking battering ram.

He grunts, slides back a foot.

We’re not playing touch out here.

This is war.

The Florida Gators are fast, slick, and dirty as ever.

They’re all elbows in the rucks and cheap shots in the mauls, but we don’t break.

The Rovers don’t flinch.

We grind.

Halftime comes and we’re deadlocked—17 to 17.

In the locker room, everyone’s breathing heavy.

Coach throws a water bottle that explodes against the wall, yelling about possession and pressure.

But I’m not listening.

Because when I glance out of the tunnel and see her?

Annabeth.

In the stands, her hands clasped, eyes locked on the tunnel.

Like she’s praying and furious and hopeful all at once.

I feel everything else fall away.

Her soft brown eyes hold more heat than the sun over the pitch.

She’s here.

And I’ll be damned if I let her down.

“You good, Warden?”Koa asks, thumping my chest.

“I’m fucking perfect.”

Back on the field, the Gators press hard.

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