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I grabbed my keys and drove in the direction of my dad’s house.

Santiago

I STARED AT THE SCREEN long and hard, then I threw my phone onto the bed.

“He is bluffing,” I whispered to the empty room.

“Who is doing what now?” Billy called out from the other side of the wall.

“Shut up, Billy. Go to bed.”

“I am in bed. Is it about that ten-foot Greek god of a jock?” Billy asked.

“He is six-five, and it’s none of your fucking business.”

“I guess that’s a yes. And if you are wondering, jocks like him don’t know how to bluff.”

“Fuck you, Billy.”

“Just stating the facts, darling. Don’t underestimate him.”

I rolled my eyes at the wall and didn’t bother to respond. I didn’t care what Billy said. George was trying to trap me, and he wasn’t above bluffing. He knew nothing about me.

George

I STEPPED INTO THE locker room, and the heavy, familiar wall of humidity, old sweat, and sports rub, hit me instantly. So did the silence. All eyes tracked me as I walked down the narrow aisle between the benches. I kept my chin up, giving a tight nod to the linebackers.

“Hey,” I muttered, grabbing the combination lock on my locker.

“How’s everything going, big man?” Greg Bennet asked, leaning against the adjacent row of hooks. He’d transferred with us from Kings Shield, so he knew exactly how much weight was sitting on my shoulders right now.

“Going as well as it can.” I pulled open the metal door, the clang echoing a bit too loudly. “Where’s Howard?” I asked, looking around for Sam.

“Talking to Coach. Word is, the next game is up at Ridgeback North.”

I paused, a jersey halfway out of my locker. “That’s far.”

“Yeah. And fucking freezing, man,” Greg groaned, shivering dramatically. “Couldn’t we just play a bowl game in Mexico or something?”

A small chuckle broke through my tension. “I wish.”

“George.”

I turned to see Sam weaving through the rows of shoulder pads hanging nearby.

“Hey, Sam.”

“Can I grab you for a second?” Sam didn't wait for an answer; he tilted his head toward the back hallway by the shower stalls. They were mostly empty this early before practice, the steam from the morning run still clinging to the tiled walls.

Once we were out of earshot of the rest of the team, Sam leaned in, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Did you get it? Did he confess?”

A sudden, fierce heat rushed up my neck and into my cheeks as Sig’s face flashed in my mind. The memory of him, of whatever the hell was happening between us, hit me like a blindside block. “Uh, no. I don’t need that anymore.”

Sam frowned, his brow furrowing. “What are you talking about?”

“I talked to my dad,” I said, keeping my voice steady and low. “He’s getting a cybercrime unit to analyze the file. They're going to prove the audio was completely AI-generated.” I forced a confidence into my voice I didn't entirely feel, though I was assured the tech wouldn't lie.

“Great,” Sam said, a dark satisfaction crossing his face. “Then they can arrest the son of a bitch.”