A dozen flashes went off.
“What about the injury scare?” a woman pressed. “Are you fully recovered?”
“I’m cleared,” I said. “I’m feeling good.”
Another flash. “Cole—what would you say to younger players watching you right now? Especially those dealing with pressure?”
My father’s voice shot through my skull—Pressure makes diamonds, Cole. Stop embarrassing me.
“I’d say that what you’re feeling matters. Take advice from your team. They're your family.”
They kept asking questions, but that answer stuck—echoing back at me in ways I wasn’t prepared for. The rest of the questions went smoothly. We were even joking at the end.
As soon as that was done, I looked for Phoenix and couldn't see him, but then Max practically dragged me to the conference room two floors down. “My agent's here. You’ll love Weston,” he said. “He’s chaotic, but in a helpful way.”
Keegan followed, nodding. “He got me three sponsorships I didn’t even want.”
“That’s not—” Max paused. “Okay, one was my fault.”
Taranis walked at the back of the group with the solemn patience of someone accustomed to babysitting idiots.
Weston was already waiting.
He jumped up the second we entered—tall, sharp suit, hair sticking up like he’d run his hands through it twelve times. He looked like every agent stereotype, except…not slimy.
He beamed at me. “Cole Armstrong. Damn, it’s good to finally meet you. I’m Weston Crane.”
We shook hands. His grip was firm, confident.
Weston gestured me into a chair. “Max tells me you’re looking to leave your previous representation.” I sat, but I still couldn't see Phoenix, and my dragon stirred.
Weston sat across from me. “Here’s what I can offer you, Cole. Transparency. Autonomy. And protection. My clients understand I work for them, not their families.”
My chest tightened. That was a direct reference to my father. Maybe Weston was more clued in than the impression he gave off initially.
“I’ll give you every account statement,” Weston continued. “Every percentage. Every contract term. Every hidden clause. And you’ll choose what happens next.”
Choose.
Yep, definitely clued in.
The word felt dangerous and new.
“And,” Weston added, “I’ll help you build something. Your brand. Your future. Your independence.”
I swallowed. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch.” Weston shrugged. “We both make money when you do well. Except that once I’m your agent, anyone who wants to screw with you has to screw withmefirst. And I’m very annoying.”
Max raised a hand. “Can confirm.”
Keegan nodded. “Painfully annoying.”
Taranis’s lips twitched. “Effective.”
I exhaled slowly. This…felt right. “I want to work with you,” I said quietly.
Weston’s grin was blinding. “Excellent. I’ll send paperwork tonight. And Cole?”
