Page 91 of Pucking Them
She’s wrong.
It’s because of them that I can stay calm now, steadying my breathing, and hold onto my self-control in the face of the pain.
“Get off me,” I growl.
For a moment, the pressure is lifted.
Who the hell is it? Who’d dare to…?
I start to turn, as rage sweeps through me. Then I’m punched in the kidneys.
The unexpected, sickening pain makes me drop to my knees.
The laughter above me reddens my cheeks with humiliation. Yet my heart races because there is more than one person.
My players would never do this, right? They’re my brothers.
But brothers can turn on you. I know that.
I still trust them.
Where the hell is security? Wouldn’t they have stopped strangers from entering the locker room?
I am trapped in the small space. I can’t get out without going through my attackers.
Water drips from my hair into my eyes.
I struggle to push my curls out of the way, before I lift my head.
Only to find myself staring into the sneering face of Wilder.
From my position on the floor, he looks like a stylishly dressed dark Thor. He is flanked by two of his Penguin teammates. I recognize them as the ones who were particularly violent in their attacks on Shay in the first games.
My jaw clenches.
Fuck.
“I see that you are as brave as you always were, attacking me from behind.” I clench my hands. “Touch me again and see what happens, Talon.”
“Thanks for the invitation.” Wilder reaches down, attempting to grab me by the arm.
But this time I am ready for him.
I kick out, catching him hard on the shins.
“You little shit.” Wilder hops back, gritting his teeth in pain. His expression twists with a rage that I remember from the many times he hazed me in college. “When will you learn that it’s worse when you fight back?”
“And when will you learn that we’re not in college anymore? You lost, asshole,” I reply, frostily. “I’m not the scholarship kid that you can treat like your punching bag because of your own performance issues. You were investigated and fined because of your own fucking behavior. You should be kicked out of thesport. Your wife divorced you because you’re a cheating abuser. It’s all on you.”
“Don’t talk about my little Birdie.”
“Hit a nerve, have I? Robyn never belonged to you. Stay the fuck away from her. If you try something like this with her, then I won’t stop until you’re in jail or buried.” My gaze slides to the men on either side of Wilder, who are now shuffling their feet, nervously. “I don’t know how much you’re paying your teammates, or whether you have blackmail material on them to force them to help you, but you don’t deserve anyone’s loyalty. If they walk away now, then I won’t report them alongside you to your coach.”
“You won’t report anyone.” Wilder nods at his teammates.
They surge forward grabbing me by each arm.
I struggle, trying to twist out of their grip. In the small space, however, I can’t.
