Page 55 of The Golden Receiver

Willis pushed me backward again. I stumbled, but I didn’t fall. Didn’t have a chance before one of the monsters grabbed me from behind. My arms were wrenched behind my back, holding me in place.

I felt sick.

I felt fucking sick.

Never in my fucking life had anything like this happened. I might have grown up in a pretty shit part of town, but nothing like this had ever happened to me. People in my neighborhood might have had a bad reputation, but they’d always looked out for one another. It wasn’t just the guy downstairs that helped me pick locks. I wished I was back there now. I wished I’d never come to Creelin University, because then I wouldn’t be in this position.

“You weren’t supposed to do anything other than warm a fucking bench,” Willis spat.

And I do mean spat. Wetness splattered on my face.

“Which is what you’ll be doing this week,” another voice growled from behind me. It wasn’t the guy holding me. The voice came from the left, and it was another voice I recognized: Hopkins. The same guy that had stood by and watched me get hurt a few weeks ago. “Should’ve let you get hit harder in that game. Maybe you would’ve gotten the damn message.”

It hit me right then. This wasn’t some scare tactic. I was in actual danger.

I started to struggle, but I couldn’t break free of the death grip on my arms. The second I started to shout, a hand covered my mouth. I looked at the arm attached to the hand. It was the same guy I’d thought looked like he wasn’t quite solid, but he was. His nails bit into the skin of my jaw, muffling my attempts at shouting for anyone or anything to help me.

Campus had been bustling earlier, but now? Not a damn person outside of these guys.

The first blow to my gut hit hard, almost knocking the wind out of me. “Only reason you’re starting is so the coaches can say they got a human on the field,” Willis taunted. He drew back his fist for another powerful hit straight to my gut.

I couldn’t even double over. Not with the guy behind me holding me up.

I tried. I tried to squirm away, to fight back, but I couldn’t.

The hits kept coming, wave after wave of pain.

Willis, Reyes, Hopkins. The other two whose names I didn’t even know.

I could taste blood in my mouth after a hit to my face. I could feel wetness sliding down my cheek and jaw.

When they finally let me know, I crumbled to the ground.

I felt feet connect to my torso.

“Think he’s got the picture?” a distorted voice asked.

I couldn’t tell who it was anymore. I couldn’t tell one thing from another. My head was swimming and I was barely hanging on.

There was one more kick and a cold, bitter laugh. “Has now.”

I watched as their feet retreated, leaving me on the sidewalk.

Alone.

Bleeding.

Wrapping my body in on itself, because otherwise, I didn’t think I could hold myself together.

Chapter Eighteen

Evander

Iloved running.

I loved the feel of the ground underneath my paws and the crisp fall air. I loved the way the wind ruffled my fur. I loved the sounds of the woods coming alive around me. I could hear everything. I could hear the sounds of the rest of the pack in the woods. They were running too. Occasionally, the night would be broken up by a familiar howl somewhere in the distance, someone calling out to see where everyone else was.

Mostly, I loved the freedom.