ARIANA
I stand at the head of a long table in the private conference room of the Lakebridge Wolves. To my right, Durrell sits with his arms crossed, watching the room, and to my left, Roland Whitman, the former owner.
"Thank you for coming," I say.
The players are still in their game gear, their shoulder pads off, with sweat still drying on their necks. The coaching staff lines the opposite wall, and the general manager sits at the far end, already taking notes.
Andrew Cox is near the middle of the table. He looks at me and doesn't recognize me at first.
Then he does.
His expression doesn't change, but something behind his eyes does, then he leans back in his chair.
"I'm not here to rebuild," I say. "I'm here to compete."
I gesture to the screen behind me. A presentation clicks on:
