Fuck.
I swallowed hard. "What are you saying?"
"Your employment is terminated immediately. Please gather your belongings and leave the stadium." His voice was ice cold.
I swallowed back tears, but nodded. It sucked, but he was right. He had no other option. If he didn't fire me, it would look bad for the whole team. The reputation of the Smashers was going to take a hit as it was. This was the kind of scrutiny every club dreaded. I'd be public enemy number one with the fan base for a long time to come.
"I understand," I managed to say. "Thank you for letting me work here. It was an honour."
I started to turn away.
"Miss Miller," he said.
I noticed his intentional lack of my title, but turned back. "Yes?" He wasn't my boss anymore, I didn't need to refer to him as sir. I could think of a few other things I could call him, but none were appropriate right now. Not when he could just as easily have me killed if he wanted to.
"I will be calling on you to continue with your other duties for me." His eyebrows dipped, trusting I knew what he was implying.
I understood, loud and clear.
Just because I didn't work for the team didn't mean I wasn't working for him and Skinner, and Nyla Fox. I felt like I was standing in the middle of a pile of quicksand, rapidly sinking deeper than I ever would have thought was possible.
"I understand, sir." Apparently that was warranted after all. "I'll, um, be ready."
"Of course you will." His eyes returned to his computer, dismissing me.
Struggling to keep myself together, I hurried out the door to collect my things.
No one was in the infirmary when I grabbed my bag and laptop. That was a small mercy I was grateful for.
No doubt Doctor Stuart would find out soon enough what happened to me. I would have liked the chance to say goodbye, but I wouldn't have been able to look him in the eyes anyway.
What would he think when he found out what I used to do? That someone like me had worked so closely beside him? I suspected he'd be disappointed in me and in himself for not realising. For thinking I was better than I was.
It was best he wasn't here to witness my walk of shame.
I sent off another text to the guys to quickly explain what happened. No doubt the press would want to talk to them. I didn't want any of them blindsided. Jay in particular didn't need a surprise confrontation with a microphone. Not because of me. That would come, but I trusted the other guys to look out for him. And each other. They were all going to be pissed off.
I didn't look anyone in the eyes as I took the elevator down to the ground floor and hurried out the side door of the building. People stopped to stare, but I kept my gaze averted.
Whatever judgement might have been visible on their faces, I didn't want to know. None of that mattered now. The only thing that did was to get out of here as quickly as I could.
Stepping out into the sunshine was a relief, but it was short lived.
I made it half a dozen steps, heels clicking on the concrete, before someone grabbed me from behind.
Dark fabric was draped over my face and I was jerked off my feet. Thick arms wound around me, holding me hard.
I tried to scream, but a hand was firmly clamped over my mouth. I struggled against them, but they were too strong. My frantic kicks failed to connect.
As if I weighed nothing, I was thrown into what felt like the back of a car, landing so hard I cried out.
Put the pain aside, I told myself.Focus.
I needed to get up, to run. Rule number one, never let them take you to another location. If that happened…
Before I could move, a boot was closed over me with a thud. Total darkness surrounded me. The tang of grease and oil mixed with something metallic. Blood?
Don't freak out, don't freak out, I told myself. Only years of training in keeping calm stopped me from losing my shit. Just barely.
I barely managed a squeak of surprise and fear before the engine revved and the car drove away from the stadium.
