Page 106 of Play Dirty

We were cleaner. Faster. More connected.

And now—

Complete.

“You coming?” Grayson’s voice cut through my thoughts.

I looked up.

He stood near the doorway, already half-dressed. A set of keys spun lazily around his finger.

“Coming where?”

“Back,” he said. “Now. Coach gave us the truck.”

I frowned in confusion. “The bus—”

“Delayed,” he cut in. “Weather’s turning.”

Right. The storm.

I glanced toward the far wall. A small TV hung crooked in the corner, muted, still flashing a radar map. A massive band of white stretched across the screen.

Snow.

A lot of it.

“It’s supposed to hit later,” I said.

Grayson gave me a look.

“You want to bet on that?”

For a split second, my mind toyed with interesting ideas for what I’d bet. I shoved them away.

Behind him, Mercer appeared, already pulling on his coat.

“You four,” he said, pointing between us without breaking stride. “Go.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Now,” he repeated. “I want adjustments tonight, not tomorrow. Next game is big. Reviewing the footage is crucial.”

His eyes darted between us.

Me.

Grayson.

Ares.

Sebastian.

Holy shit.

“Bus will follow,” he added. “If it can.”

That last part didn’t feel like a joke. It also settled it. No one argued.