Chapter 68

Chapter 68
Damon

The steam hit me first when I pushed open the bathroom door. It clung to my skin and filled the apartment with the small, familiar smell of after-practice and soap. I wrapped the towel around my waist, blinked the water from my eyes, and saw Alicia standing by the lamp, phone in hand, pale and rigid.

Her fingers were white around the device. Her eyes were rimmed red. She glanced up at me and tried to smile but nothing in her face matched it.

"Damon," she said, voice thin. "He sent messages. He said he's watching."

Everything narrowed. The noise of the city, the hum of the refrigerator, even the lamp's light felt distant. I crossed the room without thinking.

She held the screen toward me. The words were small and cold: See you soon. Tell Damon I said hello. Nice penthouse.

"No number?" I asked.

"No number." Her voice wavered. "Just those messages. I saw a car outside when I came home. It sat for a long time."

I felt a familiar clarity settle over me, the kind that comes when a player in the middle of a pressurized inning breathes and focuses on the ball. Threat assessment, plan, move.

"Lock the bedroom," I told her. "Do not open the door for anyone. Sit tight."

Her hand closed on mine like a lifeline. "Don't go alone."

"I won't," I said.

I grabbed the old burner we kept for emergencies and called Sabrina. She answered fast, her voice tight with the kind of professionalism I trusted. I told her about the messages and the car. She snapped calls into motion.

"Two cars sweeping your block," she said. "If anyone's sitting in a sedan, they'll spot it. I'm pulling a plate history now."

I watched the security feed. A dark sedan sat two blocks away with its lights low and a hunched figure visible in the driver's seat. It had been there long enough to be noticed for a reason.

Sabrina called back. "We pulled a frame from the stadium footage. It's grainy, but someone moved in the tunnel. He has a profile that matches Nathan," she said. "If it's him, he's already been where you collapsed."

I had seen Nathan's face more times than I wanted. The thought of him in the tunnel tightened something beneath my ribs. He was a strategist, not a brawler. He picked his tools and used them until the targets complied.

"Get people on the roofs," Sabrina said. "Make sure the building's cleared. And get Alicia somewhere safe. We can set a secure room in the building, or I can have a driver move her."

"I'll move her," I said. "With me." The line went quiet for a beat, the kind of silent counsel that meant she approved but wanted me careful. "No public announcements. Keep this tight."

I told Alicia the plan. She didn't argue. She moved with a kind of focused calm that made me realize fear could look like determination. We packed an overnight bag, grabbed a burner Sabrina had left with us, and left by the back stairs so no one would see us in the lobby.

Outside the SUV was waiting...black, low, driver impassive. The city flashed by in a ribbon of anonymous light. Sabrina patched Evan into the call so he knew where Alicia would land. Evan sounded annoyed at being interrupted at whatever he was doing, then immediately protective when he heard the short version.

"Keep her locked up," he growled. "If anyone shows, call me."

We pulled up to Evan's building and I watched Alicia do the small ritual of stepping into an apartment that held all the childhood stitching of safety. Evan hugged her like a brother who had waited too long to look after a sister, then handed her a key and barked orders about meals and noise.

"Call me if anything moves," he told me. "If he touches her, I'll find him."

I wanted to stay, but the plan was to make sure she was safe and then go after the threads. That was the only thing that steadied me as I drove back alone to the penthouse. The empty streets felt too loud.

Back home I cycled through every camera feed. The sedan was gone from the street. Whoever had been watching had moved. That didn't mean they were gone. It meant they were patient.

Sabrina called again. "Nathan pushed for clauses with his new team," she said quietly. "Travel patterns, security assignments, camera access. He set himself up to watch. He wants you exposed, Damon."

"He wants me vulnerable so he can hurt the people I care about," I said.

"Then harden the perimeter," she replied. "Tighten the team's travel. No public appearances. Limit access to the locker room. And tonight? Stay awake. Watch the feeds yourself."

I didn't like the idea of staying awake, but I didn't like the idea of sleep when Alicia was out there, even in Evan's care. My hands shook when I dialed Marcus. He answered on the second ring.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"At home," he said. His voice was brittle. "Trying to sort my head."

"You told me everything," I said. "Tonight, I need you to prove it. Tight security. Your daughter safe. Full disclosure."

He sighed. "I will. I swear."

It wasn't enough to hear the promise. I needed evidence, confirmation. But Marcus sounded sincere, exhausted. Fear makes people do ugly things. Fear also makes them beg for a place to stand.

I sat on the couch and watched the dark city through the window. My phone buzzed with an unknown number. I didn't look. The messages had chased us out of routines; they wanted to keep us fractured.

I finally allowed myself to lie down, phone face-down on the coffee table. I didn't sleep. I rested in a way that was practical.

At first light I called Sabrina and hammered out details for the day: no press, limited entrances, extra security in the tunnel, Marcus under watch. She promised men and eyes and patience.

We were not safe. Not fully. But we had made the world a little harder for someone who liked to break things.

I thought of Alicia sleeping in Evan's apartment and, for the first time that night, allowed a small, dangerous hope. Not that the storm had passed. Not that Nathan would stop. But that we could be stubborn enough, organized enough, and fierce enough to stop him from winning.

Then I stood up, grabbed my bag, and headed out to practice. The stadium would be loud, and the game would go on, but that didn't mean the fight had moved to a scoreboard. It had moved to the spaces between us, the back rooms, the quiet nights and whispered threats. It was a different kind of field.

I drove into the morning with that weight on my shoulders and an answer in my head: fight where the danger is. Protect where the love is. And never give him the satisfaction of watching us fall apart.

I would not let fear write our story. I would meet him with everything I had and protect the life we were building. Always. Fight on.