Prologue
MADDOX
Two Months Ago
College National Semifinal: Strikers vs Brigadiers
Coach’s voice buzzed inside my helmet. "Trips right, buck sweep, read."
"Got it."
Rain fell in sheets of ice. Wind whipped through my uniform. My teeth chattered. I hadn’t been this fucking cold—and wet—since water combat training in boot camp. My breath curled in the air despite the rain.
I signaled the play to the team, and we fell into formation. Success rode on our offensive line—to make a hole for our running back to break through.
"On two." I shouted from the center of the line. "Hut hut!"
Sato snapped the ball. I turned and pretended to hand off to the fullback, then cut and delivered it to Danny. He tucked the football, running wide on theheels of the guard. I lost him in the crush of bodies. The referee’s whistle declared the play over.
One yard short of the first down, seconds ticking in the last two minutes of the game. Third down.Need to make it to midfield right here.
The thermoplastic cast on my left arm itched, but it had held up like a miracle in this weather—and was the least of my worries.
The speaker in my helmet crackled. I tapped it. "Coach?" It echoed. The link fuzzed and popped.
"No one will question who makes it happen. He’s a dumb grunt who follows orders."
I turned to stare at the sideline. He stood with his back to the field in his maroon jacket, talking to the offensive coordinator. Raindrops clung to the rungs of my facemask.
"Coach?" Was that…
"Just need you to run the plays I call. No questions."
"Boosters will be itching to sign that contract extension…got us a championship with a nobody for a quarterback."
I pressed my eyes closed.My stomach burned and twisted into a sharp knot. The air crushed from my lungs.So that's why…The speaker static blasted louder. I reached behind my back, flicking the switch on the comm device around my waist.
The world around me fell silent.
“You have a real shot this year, son.”
The ache in my chest sharpened.Ella…I sucked in a deep breath. Rain splashed my face.
“If you want the starting job, you can’t have any distractions.”
"Hey, jackass." Seager’s voice grabbed my last nerve in a horse collar tackle—and slammed it into the ground.
I ducked my head.Still have a job to do.
"Told you I wouldn’t miss my chance on the field." Hejogged up to the line of scrimmage. “Champions get in the game. We eat this shit for breakfast.”
Another breath.It's just a game."You gonna block or just bore the everloving fuck out of your mark?”
He flipped me off. "Coach wants an 'ace right, sixty-seven slant, lion.'"
"Speaker’s not working," I said and tapped my helmet as I moved to the center of the yard line. I signaled the play to my receivers.
We took our positions. "On two." I shifted my stance. "Hut hut!"
