Page 173 of Game Misconduct
My throat thickens, raw and burning. I press the heel of my hand against my chest, like I can push the pain back into place.
Keep it from cracking through the seams of my composure.
But it's already leaking. Into my breath. Into my bones. Into the space where his voice used to echo.
“I want all of you, Sloane.”
He said that once.
Now I sit in the wreckage of what it meant.
I hover over another slide.
Projected Impact.
It used to be about fan engagement and defensive rankings.
Now, all I can think is how many pieces of myself I handed over to a man who never promised to keep them safe but I assumed he would.
A knock sounds faintly against the door.
I don’t move.
Let whoever it is knock until their hand falls off.
Let the whole world bang down my door. I’ve already lost the only thing that mattered.
My hand shakes on the mouse as I drag another slide into the trash. Then another. Until all that’s left is a blank deck and my reflection in the screen, eyes red, lips trembling, mascara smudged at the corners like a confession I forgot to swallow.
My phone buzzes again. Another notification. Maybe a news alert. Maybe the board. Maybe Maddox.
I don’t look.
If it’s him, I’ll break.
If it’s not, I’ll break anyway.
The soft knock comes again, more insistent this time.
I don’t answer.
But the door creaks open anyway, and Tessa steps inside like she’s walking into a room where something already died.
She takes one look at me and shuts the door quietly behind her.
I swipe at my face, but it’s pointless. The damage is obvious.
She doesn’t say anything right away. Just walks over, sets her phone facedown on the table, and lowers herself slowly into the chair across from me.
I brace for her to say something comforting. Or worse—something kind.
But she surprises me.
“I have something you need to hear.”
Her voice is tighter than usual. Strained. Not bossy or brisk or clinical like normal. Tessa only sounds like this when something is about to detonate.
I frown. “What is it?”
