Page 162 of Game Misconduct
She crosses to her desk and rests her palms flat on it like she’s bracing for impact. “Dean already thinks I’m compromised because of you. The board’s looking for a reason to clip my wings. So no, Maddox. I didn’t leak your past to the press. Because I’m not stupid enough to hand them the knife they’re dying to use on me.”
I watch her, heart pounding, throat dry.
And suddenly the anger in me buckles, cracking open something colder.
“I came here thinking you’d deny it,” I say. “Thinking maybe I could still believe you.”
“You still can.”
But the silence afterward feels like a void.
I step toward the door. My hand closes around the handle.
I don’t leave.
“You can hate me all you want,” I say quietly. “But if you didn’t leak it, you’d better find out who did. Fast.”
I look over my shoulder one last time. She’s staring down at her desk, shoulders rigid, like she’s trying not to shake.
“Because if the league runs with this the way Boston did,” I add, “they won’t just take me down this time. They’ll come for you, too.”
A knock slams against the door before I can open it.
I jerk it open, jaw still tight and chest heaving?—
And Dean’s standing there.
Wide-eyed.
Listening.
And with a smirk that can only mean trouble.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Sloane
I don’t move.
Not when I feel Maddox’s stare burning between my shoulder blades.
Not when the silence grows so thick I can taste it.
He’s still by the door, not leaving.
I can feel the weight of him in the room like a storm front pressing in.
My fingers tighten around the edge of my desk, my heart a snarled mess of anger and something softer I can’t name.
If I turn around, I’ll break. If I say too much, I’ll say something I can’t take back.
“You got what you came for,” I say, voice cool as glass. “Now go.”
The words scrape my throat raw. But I don’t let it show.
Behind me, nothing but silence. A heartbeat passes before his boots shift once on the tile.
The handle clicks.
