Page 77 of Wild Fury (Fallen Royals 6)

The nerve. But also… I’m intrigued.

“What the fuck, Alistair?” someone yells. Not Theo, obviously, and probably not the silent teammate who loomed behind him. Definitely not Liam. Someone new.

“Calm down, son.” An older man—the coach, maybe? One of the coaches? I’m pretty sure college teams have more than one.

“Don’t tell me to calm down. He just snapped my best friend’s leg—”

I cover my mouth with my hand and lean forward, trying to see through the crack in the stall door. It’s at least two inches wide, but whoever it is stands out of sight.

Just as well.

“It was an accident,” the coach says. “Hale. You can’t make accusations—”

“Like fuck I can’t,” Ruby’s brother snarls. “Try me, old man. I was there. The ball fucking snapped to Sebastian, and then…”

“Chaos,” Theo says. “You think I don’t know that? But Sebastian was out of control.”

Something screeches—a locker squealing as something hits it, the metal protesting the weight—and then a grunt.

“Don’t touch me,” Theo warns.

“What did you do?” Hale yells. “Turn the team against me?”

“For the love of God, calm the fuck down.” The coach is trying to rein in Hale Devereux, but it isn’t working. Even from here, with my limited view, I can tell the guy is about to take a long walk off a short pier. “Just sit down. Jack, let him go.”

Theo’s silent lackey, then. More than just someone looking after him…

“Sebastian probably wants his bag,” Theo says suddenly.

I lean even more forward, pressing my hands to the chipped paint of the stall’s walls. I’m going to fall through the door at this rate, but I need to see what comes next. This is Theo’s plan, pieces of it clicking into place. The accident…

It might not have been an accident.

And yet, Hale seems to be the only one convinced of that.

I allow myself to smile.

The coach goes to Sebastian’s locker, yanking the bag out. I can see it now, the coach in his dark-blue pullover, the white-and-blue bag. In slow motion, it catches on the edge of the locker and rips open.

An exasperated noise escapes the coach’s mouth, and then something comes out. A small glass bottle. It rolls right between his feet, stopping at Hale’s.

“What’s that?” Theo asks.

Hale flinches, then stoops and lifts the bottle. “This is a mistake,” he says slowly. “Coach—”

“Give it.”

There’s a flurry of motion, their coach and Hale and Theo’s silent backup. Only Theo and Liam don’t move. And me. I’m stuck, frozen with my heart pounding. I can’t even breathe. The coach takes the bottle and stares down at it, then goes to the bag. He digs through it and pulls out… syringes.

Uh oh.

“Hale, return to the field. You, too, Jack.”

“Sir, Sebastian would never…” Hale trails off.

“He’s been off,” Jack says. “You said so yourself.”

The coach pauses, then nods. He replaces everything in Sebastian’s bag, including the bottle. “Everyone out. We’re in the middle of a game. Fuck.”

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