Page 33 of The Players We Hate (Rixton U #2)

Wren

The house hit me the second I stepped inside.

Music thumped hard enough to rattle the windows, the bass running up through the floor into my chest. The place was packed shoulder to shoulder, red cups raised, voices shouting to be heard.

String lights sagged from the beams, throwing off a hazy glow that barely cut through the noise.

It wasn’t just one team celebrating. Braysen and Rixton had gone head-to-head, and the loss still stung for some. The room buzzed with rivalry and relief—shoulders bumping, cups clinking. Some rode the high of the win, others drank off the loss, but no one seemed to dwell on it.

Beer and perfume hung heavy in the air. The greasy tang of pizza boxes stacked in the kitchen drifted through the crowd. Every so often, a chant of “chug, chug, chug” broke out, feet stomping until the noise blurred into the bass.

I kept my shoulders tucked in, trying to slip through without drawing attention. But there was no hiding in Talon’s jersey. It drowned me, sleeves brushing my hands, his number stretched bold across my back. People noticed. Their eyes caught, then doubled back, curious, weighing me up.

“You good?” Willow leaned close, raising her voice over the music.

My fingers tapped my pocket, the flash drive pressing steady against my thigh. My stomach buzzed, but I forced a smile. “Yeah,” I said loud enough for her to hear. “It’s… a lot. But kind of fun.”

And it was. The bass in my chest, the haze of lights, the laughter rolling through the room—it felt good not being stuck on the outside looking in.

Before Willow could say more, her gaze snagged across the room. I followed it to Kade leaning against the wall by the kitchen, hair damp at the ends, shoulders still carrying the game.

He crooked a finger, and Willow flushed.

“Go,” I teased, nudging her.

She laughed and slipped into the crowd without hesitation.

I watched Willow go, the crowd pulling her in until she disappeared.

People shouted Kade’s name, one guy smacking him hard on the back, but he didn’t move.

His eyes stayed locked on her. The second she reached him, his arm slid around her waist, and he kissed her temple like it was second nature. She melted into him without hesitation.

My gaze slid before I could stop it—straight to Talon.

He stood at the far edge of the room, half in shadow, sleeves shoved to his elbows.

His stare locked on me, unflinching, heat simmering behind it.

It hit low in my stomach, a pull I couldn’t shake.

Every second stretched, his eyes daring me to be the one to look away .

I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not when the memory of the hotel lobby still burned hot in my mind—his voice low in my ear, promising he’d drag me upstairs and show me exactly who I belonged to.

The jersey hanging off me now—his name bold across my back—only fed the reminder.

His eyes told me he hadn’t forgotten either.

My feet shifted before I even realized it, carrying me a step closer, then another, the crowd fading around us.

And then movement at the base of the stairs cut through it. Reed had appeared, his chin jerking once in my direction. The signal was clear.

We slipped through the crush of bodies, weaving past shoulders and sloshing cups. The higher we climbed, the quieter it got, until the bass was only a faint vibration under our feet. Reed’s door was cracked, light spilling across the carpet.

Inside felt different. The noise from downstairs faded, replaced by the low hum of Reed’s computer in the corner. Two monitors glowed over a desk cluttered with coffee cups, a hoodie slumped over the chair, and sticky notes lining the edge.

The rest of the room looked every bit the college setup. Braysen football posters covered the walls, a gym bag lay open on the floor with cleats sticking out, and a picture of Reed and Tatum sat on the nightstand.

Kade leaned against the dresser, arms folded. Owen stayed near the wall, jaw tight. Rowdy had claimed the chair by the window, spinning it once before letting it squeak to a stop. Talon stood near the desk, body wound tight, his attention fixed on me .

My hand trembled as I pulled the flash drive from my pocket and set it on Reed’s desk.

He plugged it in without a word, the screen filling with folders as his fingers flew over the keys.

Code scrolled past, files opening and moving into new folders.

The steady clack of the keyboard was the only sound, each tap marking the time slipping away.

Rowdy raised his cup. “Congrats, boys. We’re officially in a sports scandal. Somebody call Netflix and get us a documentary.”

A breath slipped out of me—almost a laugh.

Talon cut him a look. “Not the time.”

Rowdy lifted his hands, still grinning. “Tough crowd. Guess I won’t quit hockey for stand-up anytime soon.”

Willow chuckled under her breath, a couple of the guys shaking their heads, but no one joined in. The humor fizzled fast, replaced by the weight of what sat on Reed’s desk. My stomach knotted as every pair of eyes turned back to me.

I squared my shoulders. “It’s all there.

NIL agreements, transfer ledgers, emails.

Some files are still locked, but the financial records were wide open—donor ties, payouts, money routed through Brighter Futures and back to my father.

It’s enough to nail him. The same trail showed up in Gavin’s deal. ”

I glanced at Talon. He hadn’t moved, just stared at the computer screen like he already knew it had the power to blow everything apart.

Reed’s voice broke through the silence, clipped and certain. “I’ll cross-check this with the training logs and scholarship payments I flagged. If it lines up, this isn’t just shady boosters—it’s the whole system. ”

“And it’s rigged,” Kade said, his voice low. “Not just games. The outcomes. Who gets recruited. Who gets benched. Who gets silenced.”

The room stilled, heavy enough to press into my ribs until it hurt to breathe.

I crossed my arms, forcing myself to stand tall. “I know I’ve messed up. The puck incident made it look like I was sneaking around. But this? I didn’t bring it for my father or his people. I brought it for you—for all of you.”

Talon’s voice cut through the quiet. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I did,” I said, my throat tight. “And not because of whatever’s between us. I care about you, yeah, but this is bigger. I couldn’t stand knowing someone’s greed might injure someone or cost you your season. I couldn’t live with being tied to it.”

Willow slipped her arm around my shoulders. She must’ve heard the crack in my voice because she pulled me in, her breath warm against my ear. “You’re a good person,” she whispered. “Not many people would’ve done what you did.”

Kade’s gaze flicked between us, softening as it landed on her. He nodded once. “She’s right. Thank you.”

Talon didn’t speak. He just stepped closer and slid his fingers through mine. The touch was so simple, so careful, it nearly undid me.

“I’m sending this to Logan Grant,” Reed said, his voice steady. “You said he’s solid. He was the only one who didn’t cave when Crimson U tried to bury their scandal. If he held his ground then, he’ll know how to handle this.”

Kade’s brow pulled tight. “You trust him? ”

My throat was tight, but I nodded. “With this? Yeah. I’ve followed his work. Whenever my father’s name came up, Logan was one of the only reporters who didn’t spin it. He told the truth, even when it made him the enemy. If anyone can take this and not let it die in the dark, it’s him.”

Reed’s hand hovered over the trackpad, the files already queued, his jaw locked. The room felt smaller with each second, the weight of what we were about to do pressing in from every corner.

“This is it,” he said quietly.

The air thickened, every eye sliding toward me. Talon’s most of all—unyielding, cutting straight through me.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice low.

I forced myself not to look away. “If we do this, there’s no going back.”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to hurt. My chest pounded, but then Talon’s expression shifted. The edge in his eyes softened, replaced with something raw—something that felt like trust.

He gave a single nod. “Then we don’t hold back.”

Reed pressed send.

The weight of it landed in the room at once—like we’d just lit a fuse.

Kade inclined his head. Rowdy broke the tension with a mutter, “Guess we’re officially in the conspiracy club. Should we get a group pic for when Netflix comes calling?”

Owen shot him a look. “Try it and watch Reed snap your phone in half.”

Rowdy smirked and tucked it away, but no one laughed. The humor fizzled, swallowed by what had just left this room .

My throat worked, a shaky sound nearly breaking loose, but I bit it back. My eyes fell to Talon’s hand still wrapped around mine.

“This is going to get ugly,” I whispered.

His grip tightened, firm, certain. “Then we fight ugly.”

The fuse was lit, and there was no turning back now.

***

Back in the hallway, the music grew louder with every step. By the time we hit the bottom of the stairs, the house had swallowed us whole again. Voices clashed, lights strobed across the walls, and the floor shook under the bass and the stomp of bodies.

Rowdy pushed his way through first, holding his cup high. “Daddy’s home!” he shouted.

The crowd roared back, the sound rattling through the room.

Owen muttered something I couldn’t catch, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was fighting a smile.

I stuck close to the wall, instinct telling me to pull in and make myself smaller. The air was hot, packed with sweat, beer, and too many people moving in time with the music. My chest tightened, pulse kicking, but I forced myself to breathe through it.

I was here. In Talon’s jersey. People noticed, their eyes flicking over me, trying to figure out who I was. The flash drive still burned in my pocket, but I told myself I wasn’t going to let it own me tonight .