Page 30

Thirty

Ava

I stared at my screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, but I hadn’t typed anything in nearly fifteen minutes. My coffee had long since gone cold, and the weight of everything I’d uncovered—everything I’d set into motion—sat heavy on my chest. Darren was safe, with Logan in some shitty motel room. I had to watch my back wherever I went, this was NOT how this was suppsoed to go. The newsroom was nearly empty, the hum of computers and the occasional rustle of paper the only sounds breaking the silence. Most people had cleared out hours ago, but I wasn’t ready to leave.

The fallout from my article had been immediate. Headlines screaming about the Hellblades scandal were everywhere, reporters dissecting every detail, talking heads on sports networks analyzing the implications. Everyone was scrambling for their angle, their piece of the story, and even though I had written it, I felt like I was barely hanging on to the narrative.

Logan wasn’t speaking to me about anything other than Darren in shorts clips. I know I broke his trust but it was the only way I could protect him. Who knew when Andrew or Glen would have gone after Logan.

The team was imploding. Darren was is serious trouble. And worst of all, I had the sinking feeling that I’d only uncovered the surface of something much bigger. My phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a message from Jake.

Jake

Meet me. Now. You’re going to want to see this in person.

I frowned. That was... ominous. Jake rarely insisted on meeting in person, he hated leaving his desk, unless it was something urgent, and considering what we were already dealing with, the fact that he needed to show me something made my stomach twist. I texted back immediately.

Where?

Sunrise Diner. Twenty minutes.

I pushed away from my desk, grabbing my coat as I stood. I had no idea what I was about to walk into, but the uneasy feeling I’d had all night had just sharpened into full-blown dread. The Sunrise Diner was one of those places that hadn’t changed in decades—cracked vinyl booths, the scent of old grease clinging to the air, a waitress behind the counter who looked like she had seen it all and wasn’t impressed by any of it. Jake was already there, slumped in a booth at the back, his hoodie pulled up like it could somehow make him blend into the surroundings. His laptop was open in front of him, but as soon as I slid into the seat across from him, he shut it and reached into his pocket, pulling out a flash drive.

He slid it across the table without a word.

I stared at it, then at him. “Are you going to tell me what’s on this, or are we just going to sit here being cryptic?”

Jake exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s worse than we thought.”

A chill skated down my spine. “How much worse? How can this possibly still get worse? I am so fucking over this never ending fucking hole!" Her blood was boiling and about to pour over. One more shoe to drop and she was going to lose her god damn mind.

Jake leaned forward, lowering his voice. “It’s not just the Hellblades, Ava.”

I blinked. “What do you mean? We knew that this could involve other teams?”

“The offshore accounts I’ve been tracking? The ones linked to Riker?” He nodded toward the flash drive. “They don’t just connect back to him. They connect to multiple teams. This isn’t just one coach or one agent. This is basically country wide? There are maybe 15 coaches trading players to line their pockets”

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the edge of the table.

“How many teams?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“At least six. Probably more,” Jake said grimly. “I’ve found ties to front office execs, agents, even former players. The money trails all lead back to the same handful of shell companies, but the deeper I go, the worse it gets. This has been happening for years.”

I reached for the flash drive, my hand shaking slightly as I picked it up.

Jake kept his voice low. “What's in the news cycle now is all speculation. These are hard facts, if Frank got his hands on this, it would be the smoking gun he's been begging you for. I bet Frank is the one who gave whomever called Darren a heads up. He put you on this track, he pointed the direction. He has to be involved.”

I knew that. I had always known there was a chance that what I was uncovering was bigger than just one team, and that it would be big. But hearing it laid out so plainly, seeing the fear in Jake’s eyes. This was organized crime, operating in plain sight under the cover of professional sports.

My stomach twisted.

“If this is real—” I started.

Jake cut me off with a sharp look. “It’s real, Ava.”

I swallowed. “Then if I run this, it won’t just be a news story. It’ll be a takedown.”

Jake nodded. “And the people involved? They will retaliate.”

I knew that, too. I had spent years chasing stories that made people uncomfortable, exposing corruption and power plays that weren’t supposed to see the light of day. But this? This was different. This was bigger than anything I’d ever touched. And I had no idea what the cost would be.

My phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number: Stay out of this, Ava. You don’t know who you’re fucking with.

For the first time since this all started, real fear settled deep in my chest.

We had pushed too far.

And now, someone was pushing back.