“On what?”
I shrugged, easy. “How much shit you plan on stirring before playoffs are even underway.”
He scoffed, a low breath of disbelief. “You think you’re untouchable?”
“No. I think I’mvaluable.” I let the silence stretch for a beat, then added, “And I think you know what happens to this team if I go.”
Marchand didn’t reply.
But his jaw twitched.
Because it was true.
I was the axis the Howlers spun on, not because I scored the most or ran the flashiest plays, but because I kept the whole damn machine from breaking apart. I managed egos. Tempered the wild ones. Balanced the line between bloodlust and brilliance.
You lose that? You lose the team.
He finally sat back in his chair, eyes narrowing in thought. “You’ve got one year left. Maybe less, depending on the playoffs. You really want to burn it all down overher?”
I didn’t flinch.
“She’s part of this team,” I said. “And unlike you, she doesn’t treat people like pawns.”
“She’s not your responsibility.”
“She’smine,” I said before I could stop myself, quiet, certain, and final.
Something flickered across his face at that. Recognition. Surprise. Maybe even a little amusement.
“You’re really willing to go free agent?” he asked, like he needed to hear me say it out loud.
I met his gaze dead-on.
“If you push this? If you keep dangling Rylan like he’s not a loaded weapon? If you let Wren take the fall for your backroom schemes?” I leaned forward, resting my palms on his desk, close enough he’d smell the promise in my voice. “I walk. And I won’t do it quietly.”
He went very still.
For the first time since I’d entered the room, I saw it hit him. It wasn’t fear, not exactly, but calculation. Marchand wasn’t afraid of people. No, but he was terrified ofrisk. He hated messy headlines, contract lawyers, and a fractured locker room right before playoffs.
He dreadedchaos.
What I had just promised him was an absolute and unavoidable fucking tempest of it.
The phone buzzed again.
A third call.
He ignored it.
I straightened. “You’ve got a decision to make. I’d make it soon.”
Then I turned and walked out, never once looking back. Because when it comes to bluffing? The best one is the one you’re willing to follow through on.
And me?
I was more than willing.
The elevator doors shut behind me, the echo of Marchand’s office still ringing in my ears like post-fight adrenaline.
