Chapter 55

Chapter 55
Alicia

The noise inside the stadium was deafening. The kind of sound that rattled through your chest and made your heartbeat sync with the crowd’s rhythm. Bright lights swept over the field, cameras flashing as the teams warmed up. Damon’s team, in black and silver, looked sharp and ready, but I could tell from the way he carried himself that something was off.

I had barely slept the night before. The message still sat in my phone like a ticking bomb: "If you want Damon to survive tomorrow, tell him not to play."

I had read it a dozen times, trying to decide if it was some cruel prank or a real threat. But now, watching him stretch and jog across the field, I knew it wasn’t just paranoia. Someone wanted him hurt or worse.

The stadium announcer’s voice boomed through the air, introducing the teams. I forced myself to clap along with the fans, though my palms felt slick with sweat. I could see Damon glance up toward the stands, scanning the crowd until his eyes found mine. For a brief second, the noise faded. He gave a small nod, a silent reassurance, and my chest tightened.

The game began. Fast, aggressive, every movement sharp with intent. Damon was in his element, controlling the ball, setting up plays, moving like he was born for this. But beneath the surface of every pass, every tackle, I felt a tension I couldn’t shake.

Marcus stood near the bench, expression unreadable. He’d been quiet since the betrayal, keeping his distance but still fulfilling his duties. Damon had let him stay, for now but the trust between them was fractured.

By halftime, Damon’s team was leading by two points. The energy in the stadium was electric, but my stomach was in knots. I kept replaying the message in my head, wondering who could have sent it. Nathan? Someone working with him? Or was it just meant to mess with my mind?

When the players left the field for the locker room, I made my move. I slipped past the crowd near the tunnel, flashing my staff badge. Working in the hospital had its perks, people who owed favors. I managed to get as far as the hallway outside the locker room before a guard stopped me.

“Ma’am, this area’s restricted.”

“I just need to speak to Damon Strathmore. It’s urgent.”

He hesitated, recognizing the name, maybe even the look in my eyes. “One minute,” he said, and went inside.

Seconds later, Damon appeared, towel draped around his neck, his hair damp from sweat. His expression softened when he saw me. “Alicia? What are you doing here?”

I took a shaky breath. “We need to talk.”

“Now?” He frowned. “We’re about to start the second half.”

“It can’t wait.”

He glanced down the hall, then pulled me aside near the vending machines. “What’s going on?”

I held up my phone. “I got this last night.”

He took it, reading the message quickly, his jaw tightening. “Who sent it?”

“I don’t know. It came from an unknown number. Damon, what if it’s true? What if Nathan’s planning something?”

He exhaled, rubbing his temple. “Alicia, listen to me. This is what he does, he gets in people’s heads. He wants you scared so I’ll lose focus out there.”

“This isn’t about focus. It’s about you being alive.”

He looked at me then, eyes steady. “I’ve dealt with worse threats before. I’m not letting him take this from me too. Not again.”

“Damon...”

“I have to finish this game,” he said firmly. “If I back out now, he wins. And I can’t let that happen.”

My throat tightened. “Then promise me you’ll be careful.”

He smiled faintly. “When am I not?”

I wanted to hold him, to make him promise me something real, but the coach’s voice echoed down the hall, calling the players back. Damon handed me my phone, his fingers brushing mine.

“Stay in the stands,” he said quietly. “If anything feels off, get out. Don’t wait for me.”

And then he was gone, jogging back toward the field as the crowd roared his name.

I stayed by the tunnel for a moment, trying to breathe, before heading back to my seat. My hands were trembling. Every noise felt louder now...the whistle, the pounding of cleats, the rhythm of the crowd chanting Damon’s name.

The second half started hard. Nathan’s team came out swinging, playing rough, testing Damon every chance they got. I could see the rivalry burning between them, the unspoken history in every glance, every foul. Damon kept his composure, but the tension was visible.

Then it happened.

In the middle of a fast break, Damon went for the ball, sliding in just as one of Nathan’s players came charging in from behind. The collision was brutal. The sound of it hit me before the crowd even reacted. Damon’s body hit the turf hard, his leg twisting at an angle that made my stomach drop.

The stadium went silent.

I shot to my feet, my heart pounding. He wasn’t moving. Marcus was the first to run onto the field, shouting for the medics. Players crowded around as the referee waved frantically for help.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, pushing past the people in my row.

By the time I reached the sideline, they were already kneeling beside him. Damon’s face was pale, pain carved deep into it. The medic pressed gently against his leg, and Damon winced, gripping the grass.

“Damon,” I called, my voice breaking.

His eyes found mine through the chaos. “I’m fine,” he managed to say, though the tremor in his voice betrayed the lie.

The medic shook his head. “He needs to be taken off. We’ll get him to the hospital.”

I knelt beside him as they lifted the stretcher. “You’re not fine,” I said softly.

He gave a weak smile. “Told you I’d be careful.”

Tears burned behind my eyes as I walked alongside them down the tunnel. The noise of the crowd blurred into a distant hum, replaced by the sound of wheels rolling and Damon’s uneven breathing.

At the ambulance, Marcus touched my shoulder. “I’ll ride with him,” he said quickly.

“No,” I said. “I’m coming too.”

He hesitated, then nodded.

The ride was tense and quiet. Damon’s hand brushed mine once, and I held onto it tightly, afraid to let go.

When we reached the hospital, nurses rushed him into the emergency ward. I stood frozen in the hallway, the smell of antiseptic thick in the air, the fluorescent lights too bright. It felt surreal, being back here...not as a nurse this time, but as someone waiting.

Marcus paced nearby, his face unreadable. “This wasn’t an accident,” he muttered finally.

I turned to him. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, his eyes dark. “Nathan’s player shouldn’t have been on that lineup. He was benched last week for rough play. Someone pulled strings to get him back in.”

My stomach twisted. “So you think this was planned?”

He didn’t answer, just looked away.

Before I could say more, my phone buzzed again. My hands trembled as I unlocked it, praying it was nothing.

Another message. Same unknown number.

“One down. Two to go.”

The phone slipped from my fingers, hitting the floor with a sharp crack. I stared at the words glowing on the screen, my heart pounding so hard it hurt.

Marcus bent down, picking up the phone, reading the message. His expression went pale.

“Alicia,” he said quietly. “You need to tell me who’s been contacting you.”

But I couldn’t speak. I just stood there, staring through the glass doors at Damon on the hospital bed, monitors beeping steadily.

I thought the game would be the worst of it. But something told me this was only the beginning.