Page 35 of The Players We Hate (Rixton U #2)

Wren

By the time I woke up, everything felt off. We’d left Tatum’s hours ago and crashed at the hotel, but the blur of last night still stuck to me.

Light leaked past the curtains, pale and gray, morning dragging its feet. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, the sound drilling into me until I finally reached for it.

There it was—the article.

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brEAKING: RIXTON ATHLETICS UNDER INVESTIGATION. Sources Reveal Web of NIL Violations and Donor Corruption.

The headline punched the air from my lungs, but it was the byline that trapped it there. As told by a confidential source with firsthand access to financial documents.

Me.

I scrolled fast, my eyes catching pieces even as my brain struggled to keep up.

Player accounts tied to nonprofit funds.

Donor money rerouted through Brighter Futures and back to my father.

Suspicious game outcomes flagged over and over.

At the bottom was a blurry screenshot of the nonprofit’s ledger.

My hands shook, not because I was scared of being caught, but because it was real now. It was out there.

A knock rattled the adjoining door. When I opened it, Talon was already there. His hood was up, eyes rimmed red like he hadn’t slept since we got back.

“You saw it,” he said.

“Yeah.”

The word hung heavy.

Kade wore a path across the carpet, pacing the length of the room like a caged animal. Owen slouched on the arm of the couch, elbows digging into his thighs, his eyes locked on the muted TV where ESPN anchors debated whether the Wolves should lose their playoff spot.

“You really think they’d do it?” Rowdy asked, his voice low but sharp with nerves.

Talon leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “It’s possible. But the only player we have tied to this isn’t even on the roster anymore.”

The answer did nothing to ease the tension. It pressed harder into my chest until every breath felt tight.

“We’re getting media requests,” Owen muttered without looking away from the screen. “A lot of them. Reporters want someone on record.”

“They don’t want the truth,” Kade snapped. “They want someone to blame. If we hand them a name, they’ll tear us apart.”

My throat was dry when I forced myself to speak. “If it comes down to it, let them have mine. ”

The room went still. Talon’s head snapped toward me, his eyes flashing. “Wren—”

“I mean it.” My voice shook, but I didn’t stop. “They won’t let up until someone takes responsibility. If they want someone to talk, it might as well be me. I’m with compliance now—it’ll trace back to me anyway.”

Talon moved closer, tension coiled in his shoulders. “Once you speak out, there’s no unlinking yourself from this. You’re not just exposing your father. You’re exposing yourself.”

“I’ve spent my whole life being invisible or used as a pawn,” I said, meeting his eyes. “I’m done playing by their rules. I want people to know this wasn’t some random leak. It was a choice. My choice.”

The room went still. My words settled heavily, like dust in the air after a storm.

Talon nodded once, slow and certain. “She’s not doing this alone. If they want a name, they can take mine, too.”

My throat tightened. I didn’t feel like I deserved that kind of loyalty, but maybe it wasn’t about deserving it. Perhaps it was about standing in the truth, side by side.

A knock broke the silence.

“Wren?” Alisa’s voice came through the door, muffled but familiar. “You decent?”

I cracked it open. She stood there with two coffees in her hands, her messy bun sliding to the side, eyes puffy from no sleep.

The second she stepped in, her gaze swept the room. Her brows pulled together, confusion flashing across her face.

“Uh… did I miss something?” she asked, shifting on her feet. “Why is everyone in here? What’s going on? ”

No one answered, and the silence only seemed to make her more uneasy. She set the cups down on the desk, movements quick, almost clumsy. “Okay… figured you could use caffeine. Or at least someone who doesn’t look ready to murder the TV.”

I tried for a smile, weak at best, as I shut the door. She hesitated a moment, then slipped back into our room. A beat later, the low murmur of the TV carried through the wall.

My phone buzzed again on the nightstand. I didn’t move. I already knew.

When Alisa came back, her eyes were wide, her face pale. “Wren,” she whispered, breath catching. “I just saw your last name on the screen. What’s happening?”

“Yeah.” My voice came out rough. “It’s out now.”

Her brows knit together. “Out? Wren, I don’t get it. What does this even mean? Does this have to do with your dad?”

The question hit heavy. My throat tightened, but I gave her the truth I could manage. “Yeah. He’s caught up in something ugly. And now my name’s attached to it.”

Her frown deepened as she slid one of the coffees toward me. “Jesus, Wren. I don’t even know what all of this means, but… it looks bad. How are you holding up?”

I let out a shaky breath, staring at the floor. “I don’t think I am. Feels like the ground’s shaking beneath me.”

She leaned forward, her voice softer. “I don’t know how much help I can be, but I’m here. Whatever this is, you don’t have to go through it by yourself.”

The phone buzzed again. Then again.

I finally looked .

Five missed calls from my mother. Two from my father. A voicemail I wouldn’t touch. Texts stacked one after another, piling up faster than I could keep up.

And then the one that made my stomach drop.

Mother: If you don’t pick up this phone, I will send someone to retrieve you. You’re not thinking clearly. You’re emotional. We won’t let you destroy everything we’ve built.

I stared at the words on the screen.

Everything we’ve built.

Not a word about me. Not about whether I was okay, or scared, or exhausted. All of it was strategy—damage control and nothing more.

Alisa moved closer, settling beside me on the bed. She leaned in, her messy bun slipping as she tried to read over my shoulder. “Wow. Subtle.”

My fingers were cold but steady as I gripped the phone. I hit call before I could talk myself out of it.

She picked up on the first ring.

“Wren, thank God. You’ve completely lost your mind.”

“Nice to hear your voice, too, Mother.”

“Don’t start. Do you even realize what you’ve done? Do you realize the damage you’ve caused?”

“I know what I’ve done,” I said, sharper than I meant to. I wasn’t surprised she’d figured it out—working for compliance made it easy for them to connect the dots. “I told the truth.”

The silence on the other end was brittle, like static waiting to snap. Then her voice sharpened. “Where are you? I’ll send someone to get you—”

“I’m not in Rixton.”

Her breath caught. “You left town?”

“I did. I’m with friends. And I’ll come back when I’m ready. Not before.”

“Wren, don’t be ridiculous—”

“No.” My pulse was racing, but I held my ground. “You don’t get to call me irrational or emotional every time I don’t bend. I’m done bending.”

“You have no idea how hard we’ve worked—”

“I do.” My voice dropped, but didn’t waver. “I’ve watched you fight every single day to protect a perfect story. But this was never my story. I’m not your political puppet. I’m not the daughter you trot out when it’s convenient. I’m sure as hell not your shield.”

The line went quiet. For a second, I thought she’d hung up, but I could still hear her breathing.

“I’m not Wells. And I’m not my father either. I won’t be silenced to protect your perfectly fake image.”

Her inhale was sharp, but I didn’t wait for whatever speech she had lined up.

“I’ll talk to you when I’m back. When I’m ready.”

And I hung up.

The ringing in my ears lingered until the faint drone of the TV in the guys’ room bled through the wall and pulled me back.

Alisa blinked at me, her mouth parting. “Holy sh—”

A shaky laugh escaped before I could stop it. “Yeah.”

Alisa stayed beside me, sliding her arm around my shoulders and pulling me in until I almost lost it right there. Her voice was low but certain against my ear. “Whatever happens next… I need you to know that was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. I am so damn proud of you.”

When she let go, her eyes were shining. “Seriously, Wren. You didn’t just stand up to her, you stood up for yourself. That takes guts most people don’t have.”

I nodded, swallowing hard against the knot in my throat. “Thanks.”

I didn’t feel like a daughter anymore. What I felt was something I hadn’t felt in years.

Free.

Her voice still clung to the room, clipped and sharp, burned into the air the way it always did. Intimidation dressed as concern. Ultimatums disguised as love. She thought it would scare me back into place.

But this time, I didn’t fold.

I stared down at the phone in my hand, the screen gone dark. I braced for the panic I knew so well—the guilt, the urge to fix it before it all unraveled—but it didn’t come. It wasn’t peace, not exactly, but it was solid. Strong enough to carry.

For once, I’d told her no.

Alisa shifted away, settling on the other bed. She sat cross-legged, watching me, waiting to see if I’d crack. She didn’t push, didn’t ask. She just stayed there, giving me space but making sure I wasn’t alone.

“You okay?” Her voice was soft, testing.

“I think so.”

I looked up, bracing for pity or judgment, but all I saw in her face was pride.

“You didn’t have to pick up,” she said .

“I know. But I needed to. I needed to hear myself say it out loud.”

“To finally put yourself first,” she said gently.

The words hit something deep.

“Exactly.”

She propped her chin in her hand, eyes tired but burning. “That was badass, by the way. The way you shut her down? Iconic.”

A shaky laugh broke out of me, more release than humor. “I don’t know if it was badass or just a long time coming.”

“Both,” she shot back without hesitation. “Definitely both.”

I glanced at the window. Morning light pushed through the curtains, dust hanging in the air. The world outside kept going, but something had shifted here.

“I’ve always tried to make them proud,” I admitted. “Even when it meant swallowing how I really felt. Being who they needed instead of who I am.”

“And now?”

I met her eyes. “Now I’m tired of pretending.”

Her nod was slow, steady. “I’m proud of you.”

I pulled one leg under me. “You know what’s strange?”

“What?”

“I think I’m proud of myself, too.”

Her smile warmed. “You should be.”

“I just… I worry about what comes next,” I said. “What if it was for nothing? What if my dad spins it, finds someone else to blame, and walks away clean?”

“Well, then at least you told the truth,” she said firmly. “You pulled the curtain back. That’s more than most would do. ”

I nodded, slow and heavy. “He’s already been sworn in. Governor William Perry. He got what he wanted. I want to believe this changes something, but I don’t know that it will.”

“Doesn’t mean he wins everything,” Alisa said. “What you did leaves a mark. Even if he covers it up, it’s there.”

I dragged my thumb across my lip. “He’s gotten away with so much for so long. It’s hard to believe this time will be any different.”

Alisa didn’t argue, just stayed quiet, and somehow that helped. The weight pressing on my chest loosened enough for me to look at her. “Thanks, Alisa. For being here.”

“Always,” she said. “Besides, someone’s gotta remind you how strong you are when you forget.”

My throat ached at that. I swiped at a tear before it could fall.

“I just want to be done with the game,” I whispered. “I want to live in a world where I don’t have to keep proving I’m more than his daughter.”

Alisa shook her head, firm. “You don’t have to prove it. Not to me. Not to anyone.”

And maybe, just maybe, she was right.