Page 35 of The Stallion (Men Under Revue #2)
Bria
This was it, my moment of truth.
Regionals were rotated through each participating state, and conveniently, this year’s competition was hosted at the Las Vegas Convention Center.
The competitive playing field had increased substantially due to the sudden influx of new teams joining the IASA every season. Most states now had at least two competing teams—a North and South squad.
I was surprised to see that we had over thirty teams in total this year—far more than when I initially started with the Sirens.
Two squads were left to perform their routine before ours, leaving us all huddled in our designated corner at the rear of the main hall, pumping each other up as we always did before a major competition, anxiously awaiting to be called to the mat .
I watched over my team like a hawk as they all stretched, gossiped, and took photos with each other for their various social media platforms.
This was just another event under our belt. Nothing new. And yet, I still couldn’t shake myself from the sudden feeling that something was seriously wrong.
Nothing was out of place; everything was perfect.
My husband was here, somewhere in the stands, just waiting to see me shine, and I was among my friends, whom I loved and cherished with all my heart.
So, where was this feeling coming from?
Why did I feel like this would be my last time on the mat?
“Everyone all set?” Asher chimed over my shoulder, and I jumped, startled by her sudden appearance from out of nowhere.
“I—Yes? Where—How long have you been standing there?” My head felt like scrambled eggs with everything that had been running through it since I’d woken up this morning—skipping breakfast with Dallas, and having little to no appetite.
“Are you alright? You’re not usually this skittish right before a competition…” Asher’s brows furrowed as she pursed her lips in thought. Her eyes scoured over me as if searching for a neon sign that would tell her precisely what was going on—what I could possibly be hiding.
“I’m fine, Ash. Just those pre-comp nerves settling in.”
“Or too much caffeine…” She hummed in approval. The fucking addict.
“Now that’s a you problem. I hope you’ve only had one today. ”
“You keep your secrets; I shan’t share mine,” She mocked with a cheeky grin before bumping her hip into mine and swaggering over to join the rest of the squad—a sea of crimson, shimmery gold, and midnight blue.
Our cheer uniforms were standard among IASA teams, with cropped tops for the women and full T-shirts for the men. Our skirts were straight and fitted through our hips, stopping roughly halfway down the thigh with a side split for added mobility.
The crimson and blue shades were solid, while the gold was a glittery accent separating the two darker tones. Sirens were printed in bold, black, collegiate-style font across our chests, completing the overall team look.
“Hurricane Vix, up next. Savage Sirens, on deck.” The announcement came from one of the stage managers over the rear PA system.
“That’s us.” Asher beamed, scurrying toward me before gesturing to the group. “Fearless leader, would you do us the honors?”
The brazen smirk she sent me had me biting back a laugh as I rolled my eyes skyward.
“Alright, Sirens! Let’s get our shit together and show these other teams just how savage we can be!”
The entire team jumped to their feet with a loud cheer as they surrounded Asher and me in a group embrace. Everyone's arms were draped over one another's shoulders as we held tight and started our team chant, which was derived from “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell.
“Savage Sirens, up next—” This was it.
As we finished our reveling, all pumped and ready to nail the routine that we had spent tireless days and evenings perfecting, Asher brought me in for one last tight hug with a wet, sloppy kiss on the cheek.
“Proud of you, Bri. Are you ready for this?” How could I not be? I spent so many exhausting years working my fucking ass off to get to where I am now. “Ohh… I know that look… and if this is your silent way of saying goodbye, we already knew it was coming.”
“All that hard work—” I choked out, covering my mouth and trying my hardest to hold back the emotions that fought against me.
“Got us here. Got you here. And now my baby is all grown up—and married!” Asher mocked with a fake cry in her tone, batting her eyes as if they were filled with actual tears.
“You’re not disappointed?”
“Mad… Upset… Disappointed… I swear, every time I’ve seen you, you’ve asked those same goddamn questions, and not once have you considered asking if I was happy for you instead.
” She sighed, placing her hands on my shoulders.
“Look at me… I am fucking thrilled for you. Ecstatic. Elated. All those extra fucking E words that mean absolutely, unequivocally happy for you. Okay? Can we move past this now? Because the Bria I know is a bad bitch and doesn’t need positive reinforcement to be who she is.
For fuck sake, quit worrying about what others think of you—especially me.
” Asher rolled her eyes jokingly. “Because we both know that you could spit on me, and I’d still love you like a sister. ”
“Ew… Ash…” I wrinkled my nose at the thought .
“Bit much?”
“Just a little…”
“Fair. Now I’m done giving you all these repetitive pep talks. You know who the fuck you are. Act like it.”
Tough love from Asher—always just what I needed to get out of my own head.
The bouncing back and forth between the versions of me from before and after my test was getting out of hand. I needed to pick one and stick with it, and the choice had become more obvious than ever.
I needed to be Dallas’s wife—the strong, vicious woman who could do anything set before her. My husband would never settle for less, so why should I act as such?
I do know who the fuck I am.
“Sirens, you’re up!” The stage manager addressed our corner, and Asher grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me in with the rest of the team.
“We got this, Sirens! It’s now or never!” She encouraged, bouncing up and down as if she were spring-loaded, before taking off through the drapes with the entire team, leaving me behind as the main hall erupted with applause.
Taking advantage of the seconds I had left, I rolled my shoulders and removed the mask that concealed who I was beneath the surface.
Bria Ryan.
You are Bria fucking Ryan .
“Let’s do this, baby…” I breathed to myself right before storming through the drapes and joined my team in the center of the mat. Showing off with a back-handspring tuck as the crowd fired up even more.
The stands were filled to capacity, with many spectators standing along the sides of the bleachers to watch the competition. This was, no doubt, our largest turnout to date.
Adrenaline washed over me with the high the audience incited as everyone entered their starting positions, and I took my rightful place in the center of our formation.
“Let these Sirens show you how to—” Asher and I yelled in sync right before the chorus from “Abracadabra” by Qveen Herby intercepted our last word, seamlessly transitioning between our war cry and the start of our routine.
Every stunt, tumbling pass, and dance had been nailed to perfection. Not a single flyer was dropped or transition made out of turn. The team’s performance was fucking flawless.
Just as we completed the final pyramid formation to end our routine, the music was abruptly cut off—our finale interrupted as five uniformed law enforcement officers approached us in the center of the mat.
The entire hall fell into an eerie silence as every flyer was gracefully lowered to the ground. The youngest-looking of the officers held out a thick yellow envelope while stalking straight toward Asher and me.
Shit…
“Bria Robins.”
Asher and I vaguely glanced at each other, neither of us uttering a word.
Inhaling a deep breath, I squeezed her hand tightly and nodded solemnly before releasing it and stepping forward.
“That’s me…”
He gestured with his head before two officers came up from behind me, shoving my teammates aside and grabbing hold of my wrists, one immediately securing them into a set of handcuffs.
“Miss Robins, you are under arrest for the murder of Connor Harrison. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will—”
The officer’s voice was drowned out by all the gasps of shock and whispers of sheer horror at what he had just announced aloud.
The murder of Connor Harrison…
My eyes frantically searched the sea of disturbed spectators until they met those of my husbands, standing just off to the side of one of the main stands as the officers dragged me off the mat and away toward the nearest exit.
And instead of sending Dallas a pleading look of innocence to save me, as should have been expected, considering the circumstances.
I smiled— like there wasn’t a single shred of denial to be had.