Page 95 of The Players We Hate
I forced myself not to look away. “If we do this, there’s no going back.”
The silence that followed was sharp enough to hurt. My chest pounded, but then Talon’s expression shifted. The edge in his eyes softened, replaced with something raw—something that felt like trust.
He gave a single nod. “Then we don’t hold back.”
Reed pressed send.
The weight of it landed in the room at once—like we’d just lit a fuse.
Kade inclined his head. Rowdy broke the tension with a mutter, “Guess we’re officially in the conspiracy club. Should we get a group pic for when Netflix comes calling?”
Owen shot him a look. “Try it and watch Reed snap your phone in half.”
Rowdy smirked and tucked it away, but no one laughed. The humor fizzled, swallowed by what had just left this room.
My throat worked, a shaky sound nearly breaking loose, but I bit it back. My eyes fell to Talon’s hand still wrapped around mine.
“This is going to get ugly,” I whispered.
His grip tightened, firm, certain. “Then we fight ugly.”
The fuse was lit, and there was no turning back now.
***
Back in the hallway, the music grew louder with every step. By the time we hit the bottom of the stairs, the house had swallowed us whole again. Voices clashed, lights strobed across the walls, and the floor shook under the bass and the stomp of bodies.
Rowdy pushed his way through first, holding his cup high. “Daddy’s home!” he shouted.
The crowd roared back, the sound rattling through the room.
Owen muttered something I couldn’t catch, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was fighting a smile.
I stuck close to the wall, instinct telling me to pull in and make myself smaller. The air was hot, packed with sweat, beer, and too many people moving in time with the music. My chest tightened, pulse kicking, but I forced myself to breathe through it.
I was here. In Talon’s jersey. People noticed, their eyes flicking over me, trying to figure out who I was. The flash drive still burned in my pocket, but I told myself I wasn’t going to let it own me tonight.
Then Talon was at my side. His shoulder brushed mine, grounding me. He bent close so I could hear him over the noise, his voice low but sure.
“Dance with me.”
A laugh slipped out before I could stop it. “I don’t dance.”
“You do tonight.” His grin was rare and hit me harder than I wanted to admit. Before I could argue, his hand caught mine and tugged me into the crowd.
At first, I fought it—my shoulders stiff, my steps awkward, waiting for someone to point it out. Then Talon’s hands settled at my waist, steady and sure. He bent close, his breath brushing my ear. “Relax, baby.” The words loosened something in me I hadn’t realized I was holding.
He spun me before I could catch my breath, and the room blurred. My pulse synced with the bass, the heat of the crowd pressed in, and suddenly, I wasn’t fighting it anymore. I was moving with it.
Talon never looked away. His grin widened, sharp and proud, like watching me let go was the only win he needed.
Rowdy’s voice cut through the music. “Look at Pierce! Boy’s gone soft already!”
Talon shot him the finger without missing a step, which only made Rowdy howl louder.
For once, I didn’t shrink under the attention. I threw my head back and laughed, the sound bubbling out of me like it hadn’t in too long. Talon dipped me low, one strong arm at my back, and when he pulled me up again, my face was hot, my eyes stung, and I couldn’t stop smiling.
“You’re insane,” I gasped, trying to catch my breath.
