The Blackmail Game
960 Words
CHAPTER SEVEN
The scattered textbooks lay between them on the concrete. Brian picked up the papers and handed them over.
“What are you doing on this side of campus?” he asked.
“Your sister didn't wait,” Riley whispered, looking around the quad. “Someone blackmailed Coach Miller. They have a video of us on the ice last night.”
Brian’s eyes flared with fury. He slammed his hand against the brick wall. “Natalie. I told her I’d walk away from the Sirens if she breathed a word.”
“It has to be her,” Riley said, her throat tight. “The ultimatum went straight to Miller. If I play in the rivalry match tonight, the video goes live to the media. Risking both yours and my career.”
Brian’s face went pale. His jaw clenched hard. “She wouldn't risk a forfeit for the Sirens. She's smarter than that.”
“She was furious, Brian! She wants me gone.”
“Still…” Brian noticed the paper sticking out of her textbook. He snatched it, reading the address. “You failed the midterm.”
“I got a D,” Riley snapped. “The professor gave me two choices for a tutor: Derek or you…”
“Scheduled for 7:00 PM. Wow!” Brian remarked, looking at the sheet. “My apartment. Don't be late.”
“The game today is at 6:00 PM! If I'm at your apartment by seven, I'm sitting out the match.”
Brian stepped closer, his chest nearly touching hers.
“Go to the arena. Dress for the game. But do not step onto the ice for the opening whistle. Sit on the bench. Watch the game. Give me until seven o'clock to find out if it was really Natalie and it wasn't her, who it is.”
Riley looked up at him without blinking. “Brian, this is about my career. One that I have worked so hard to accomplish. I won't risk it for anyone. Not you, not her, not anyone. So it better not be her.”
****
At 5:45 PM, the Vipers’ locker room was silent. Riley sat in her stall, fully geared. Today was their first clash match with the Sirens.
Maya slammed her gloves onto the bench. “Coach hasn't put you on the starting line. Are you skating tonight or not?”
Riley didn't look up. She couldn't tell Maya about the tape. “I'm sitting in the first frame. My leg is stiff.”
“Your leg?” Maya's eyes widened. “Against the Sirens? Riley, we need you.”
“Take the C tonight, Maya. Lead the lines.”
“Riley—”
“Just take it!”
At 6:00 PM, the buzzer sounded.
Riley sat dead center on the bench, completely sidelined. The cold air slapped her face, but it couldn't stop the burning rage in her chest. It was awful.
Without her centering the ice, the Vipers were completely uncoordinated. The lines were messy. Maya was trying her best, but she didn't have the tactical vision to read the Sirens' heavy defensive traps.
By the end of the first period, the Sirens had scored twice.
Natalie skated past the Vipers' bench, catching Riley’s eye and tapping her wrist mockingly.
Riley gripped the wooden partition so hard her gloves groaned. She wanted to tear onto the ice and fix the broken plays, but she was trapped.
By 6:45 PM, the second period was winding down. The Vipers were losing 3–0.
Her phone vibrated violently inside her pocket. It was an automated university alert:
{Tardy for tutoring with Brian Mercer at 7:00 PM. Unexcused absence will result in immediate academic suspension.}
Riley stood up, her jaw locked. She marched down the concrete tunnel, tore off her skates, threw on her civilian clothes, and sprinted to her car.
At 7:12 PM, Riley pounded on the door of Apartment 4B.
The door flew open. Brian dragged her inside by the arm and slammed it shut. His hair was disheveled, and his laptop was open on the counter.
“Tell me you found something,” Riley demanded. “My team is getting slaughtered out there. Tell me you have proof against your sister.”
“It wasn't Natalie,” Brian growled, turning the screen toward her. “Look at the master control room log from last night.”
Riley stared at the security log on the screen. “I don't understand. Who is that login?”
“The night security guard at the Sirens' facility,” Brian said, his voice laced with venom. “The one on my payroll. The one I trusted. He's the one who filmed us.”
Riley froze. “Why would he do that? Did Natalie pay him off?”
“No,” Brian said, hitting a key to pull up a bank statement link. “He was paid fifty grand two hours ago by a blind corporate account. He took the video, sold it, and vanished.”
“Paid by who?”
Brian looked up from the screen, his dark eyes fixed on hers.
“The account traces back to a shell company owned by your grandmother's estate, Riley. Evelyn Hart bought the video.”
Riley staggered backward, the air leaving her lungs. “My grandmother... she didn't want the video leaked. She wanted to force me to retire.”
“Then who sent it to your coach?” Brian asked, his voice dead calm.
Suddenly, Riley's phone lit up on the counter. A new text message from an unknown number flashed on the screen.
{Thanks for sitting out the game, Riley. The cloud backup just finished uploading. Now the whole world gets to watch you fall.}
- Writer
