Chapter 174

Noah

The stadium lights were blinding—white-hot, flickering off helmets and metal railings, painting everything in sharp, unreal edges. Cameras flashed every few seconds, a thousand little suns bursting in my peripherals. Our defensive line had just slammed their offense to a halt at the forty-yard line, and the crowd reacted like someone had lit dynamite under them. The noise wasn’t just loud—it vibrated in my bones.

I stood on the sideline, helmet under my arm, letting it all crash over me. The heat, the noise, the adrenaline, the pressure. And behind all of it—the scouts. NFL scouts. Real ones. I had seen a few shake Aiden’s hand earlier, leaning in with polite smiles. They never looked at me long, but I could feel them calculating. Measuring. Deciding.

“Blake!” Aiden called, jogging toward me, voice cutting through the chaos. His expression was sharp, focused, fierce—the look he always had when he was all coach, no hesitation. “What are you doing? Get your tight ass out there!”

I blinked, actually blinking, because Jesus, did he just say that loud enough for the front two rows to hear? My chest hiccuped—something like a laugh, something like a memory—and I wasn’t sure if he realized the slip or was just too keyed up to care.

I didn’t get the chance to check.

Because from above the bench area—right where I knew he’d be—William Hart’s eyes were already on us.

Not cheering.

Not smiling.

Just watching.

Evaluating.

Possessing.

His mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile and wasn’t quite a threat—it was something in between. Something that said: I saw that. Something that said: Remember what you owe.

And I did. God, did I.

I rolled my eyes away from him and sprinted onto the field before my face could betray anything else.

He probably already suspected we were still in contact behind his back.

Hell, he’d always suspected.

William watched everything. The second I looked too long at Aiden, spoke too softly, stood too close—he filed it away like ammunition. And because he warned me he would take no disrespect from me, any glance became a challenge, any breath became defiance, any silence became a declaration of war.

But this was the championship and Aiden was my coach, so William could swallow it and choke.

Still, I didn’t push it. I couldn’t afford to. If I wanted to keep my mother and sister safe, if I wanted to make it through this day without the world collapsing, I needed to be careful—calculated—even if everything inside me felt like it was unraveling.

We hadn’t seen much of each other this week anyway—not William, not Lexie, not anyone. I’d spent every hour practicing, studying plays, running drills hard enough my lungs felt shredded. And they had spent every hour planning a wedding I didn’t want. A celebration for a future that didn’t belong to me.

After the incident with my father, he had sent two text messages—short, clinical:

Working on your family situation.

You just focus on the game.

I tried calling my mom this morning. Straight to voicemail. Same with Emily. I told myself they were just busy. Or asleep. Or together. I told myself a hundred things.

What I didn’t say out loud was what I really feared—the worst.

And the fact that the silence hurt almost as much as the not knowing.

But no one had called with bad news.

No one had reported anything.

So I had to believe William was keeping his word.

I had to.

The Harts were out in full display tonight. Not just attending—performing. Lexie was in her cheer uniform, bouncing with choreographed enthusiasm, glittered signs taped to her back like wings, shouting my name like we were the poster couple for America’s Sweetheart Victory Tour. Her parents waved glittering banners. A cluster of influencers hovered around them, livestreaming the “future First Family of the Wolves” like it was a royal coronation.

And me?

Round after round, sprint after sprint, I saw it all unravel leading to my future as the game went on.

I was tired. I stood on the grass, breathing through the ache in my chest.

I couldn’t believe this was my life. That this was what I was tying myself to. A family built on power, image, and control. A future where I wore someone else’s happiness like a costume. Where the girl they wanted me to marry smiled like she believed in something that was never real. Where every room I entered would feel like a stage.

The truth was ugly and unchanging:

Aiden was right. William would never be satisfied. There would always be more to give. More to prove. More to lose.

My only hope—my only one—was that after the season, after the draft, after everything settled, William would find something new to play with and loosen his grip on me. Maybe Lexie would fall for someone with her whole heart, and realize she deserved that back. Maybe she’d let go too. She deserved to be loved for real—not by someone surviving her.

She was another victim of all this. Just like me.

I didn’t want to hurt her.

I didn’t want to lie to her.

I didn’t want to marry her and then spend the rest of my life cheating on her with him.

But I was still going through with it.

Because I had a family to save.

And a future to protect—not mine, but Aiden’s.

Even if it cost me everything.

I took a breath glancing at the den, sitting in one of the polished glass box suites beside Lexie’s parents, looking smug and comfortably detached from the actual sweat and blood happening below. I’d noticed him hovering around Aiden a lot this past month—little private conversations in hallways, sudden requests for meetings, tense expressions hidden behind polite smiles. I had a feeling I was the topic every time.

Coach Harper had already hinted the school wanted me to stay for my senior year—finish what I started here, lead the team again, keep their golden boy in their pocket one more year and I was sure he was pressing Aiden to convince me. I’d thought about it. Hard.

But William held my contract and my future in his hands. He was managing my entry to the NFL. And Aiden… Aiden had already told me he wasn’t staying past this season. If he was gone, then the only reason I had to stay was gone too.

Before I made any decisions—before I let my life be signed away again—I needed to talk to him. We needed a real plan, not desperation and hope and blind promises whispered in hidden corners.

But right then—

“Blake!” Jace’s voice cracked against my helmet as he slapped the back of my head. “Hey! You hearing the play or you leaving us to die out here?”

It snapped me back fast.

The game continued and, suddenly, it didn't seem like we had the upper hand.

“We’re running a pull-and-trap,” he said, breath already hard with exertion. “Cut through the middle and take it long.”

I nodded, resetting the world around me. Focus. Grass. Lines. Movement.

We pushed. Hard.

Grant took the ball and made a brutal dive into the end zone, arms wrapped so tight around it I thought he might fuse to it. The stadium erupted, the noise like a wave swallowing sound itself. But LSU came back vicious. Their offense punched straight through our defensive line with a forty-yard bomb that had the entire Wolves section groaning. Two plays later—they scored.

The field became a grind, a war fought one yard at a time. Every step hurt. Everyone was tired. Half our starting lineup was taped together, running on adrenaline and pride. LSU was the toughest defense we’d seen all year, and they weren’t just playing to win—they were playing to break us.

Then time bled out. Final drive. Fourth down.

Three points behind.

Less than a minute on the clock.

If we didn’t convert—we were done. Not just the game. Not just the season. Everything. All the work, all the sacrifice, all the pain, all the love no one knew about—gone.