Let them fall. I wasn’t running anymore. Not from the fire. Not from the truth. Not from him.
We’d lit the match together — and this time, I’d walked through it whole.
Forty Four
Dom
The game was winding down, the crowd a deafening roar. Coach’s voice cut through the chaos, barking out calls as pads collided like thunder. But inside?
I was still. Not calm —focused. Razor-edged. I was locked the fuck in.
Sierra was here. Not in the back, not hidden, not swallowed by the noise.
Nope. Front row.Dead fucking center.
She was wearing my chain, plain but gleaming in the light, like it was calling out for me.
I played with her fury in my chest. With her name stamped behind every hit. With the kind of control that only came when the weight was finally gone.
The story broke just last night — and it had already spread like a wildfire.
Screenshots. Audit trails. A buried email thread that had cracked the whole thing wide open. They floundered so hard under the pressure, it was almost sad.Almost.
Ella had somehow gotten it to the right people, who’d made sure it left no trail. I’d tried to get her to spill her sources — bribed her with coffee, compliments, even offered to do her laundry — but she wouldn’t crack.
Sierra had lit the fuse.
And me? I’d just watched it burn andenjoyed the fucking show.
Now, with Sierra out there in plain sight — unapologetic, unbreakable — I wasn’t holding anything back.
The snap hit, and I was gone. Their left tackle lunged like he had a chance.Cute. I slapped his hands away like he was a toddler reaching for something hot, spun off, and was in the backfield before the QB even finished his drop.
I lit him up. Shoulder through ribs, all gas, no apology. The ball hit the ground, and inevitably, the screaming started. Somewhere, a whistle blew.
I barely heard it over the sound of my laughter, loud and wild.Unhinged. The kind that got under your skin. I stood over the QB and tapped my helmet twice.
“Hey. Might wanna file a missing person’s report. Your O-line’s been MIA all game.”
Someone shoved me. I welcomed it, my smirk only growing wider.
“Flag me,” I yelled, arms wide, grin feral. “I’ll still eat your fucking quarterback for breakfast.”
Their center started jawing, and I barked back. “You want some of this? I’ve got enough smoke for the whole damn line.”
The ref yanked me away, and Coach was screaming at me from the sideline. Whatever. They weren’t gonna stop me.
Not today. Not now.
The game was nearly over, but I sure as hell wasn’t done. Not until they saw my face every time they closed their eyes.
***
I stepped out into the cold air, hair still damp. The jersey had been swapped for a hoodie, and my body was wrung out, yet wired at the same time. I scanned the hallway, and there she was.
Exactly where she said she’d be.
This time there were no shadows, no hesitation.Just Sierra— her chin raised, her arms crossed, waiting like she had all the time in the world.
