Page 33 of Brutal Obsession

Greyson

Come in.

I wait until Willow, Knox, and Miles are out of sight. My chest is tight, but I force my legs to carry me to the locker room. I push the door open slowly, surprised that the room isn’t brightly lit. There’s just a single row of fluorescent lights on down the center of the room, and the rest is in shadow.

Against my better judgment, I go inside. The door swings shut behind me, and I go down the aisle to the main part of the room. Greyson leans against a row of lockers against the far wall, his arms over his chest.

“Violet.”

I jump a little and meet his gaze. “Why are we here?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I had some questions for you.”

I narrow my eyes. “Oh?”

“First question. Do you feel hopeless?”

I tilt my head. “I don’t understand.”

He pushes off the lockers, straightening to his full height, but he doesn’t come any closer. He’s changed out of his hockey uniform into a black t-shirt and dark-wash jeans. “Do you feel hopeless? About your situation?”

Awareness prickles along my spine. Like this is a trap.

“What situation?” I ask carefully.

“The one where you can’t dance anymore.” He steps closer. “The one where your leg is trash.”

“Because you hit me—” I clamp my mouth shut.

He smiles. “Ah, I see you realized your mistake.” His gaze lifts, moving to our left.

Only then, belatedly, do I realize Steele has been here the whole time. Leaning against a wall almost entirely in the shadows, blending in with his dark clothes. He stands and tosses Greyson a phone. The screen flashes, enough for me to realize what the fuck just happened.

Did I just break the NDA on video?

I try to think about what it said. The terminology.

Can he sue me for simply saying that he hit me?

He can’t do that.

The words ring in my head.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Violet,” Greyson says quietly. He approaches, stopping just in front of me. “You’re in trouble for what you just said. You know it, I know it. And you’re going to help me out by taking care of my friend here.”

My stomach turns. “No.”

“Yep. You blew Jack, the worthless sack of a football player, where anyone could see you. If you get Steele off with your mouth like the good slut you are, I’ll delete my evidence.” His gaze hardens. “Or I’ll send that little clip to my father, and we can see what he does with it.”

I look at Steele. Then Greyson.

I’m going to be sick, but I’m not going to let him steamroll me.

“Absolutely not.”

Consequences be damned. He can’t just blackmail me into it.

He gets even closer. I tip my head back to keep my eyes on his face, on his twisted expression.

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