Offside Hearts

The Recording

Sienna

I barely remembered the ride home.

The taxi moved through the quiet streets while my mind replayed everything that had happened at the gala. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the two men walking toward me in the hallway. I heard their voices again.

Then I remembered Luca stepping in front of me without asking a single question. None of it made sense, and the more I thought about it, the more confused I became.

When I finally reached my apartment, I locked the door behind me, checked it twice, and leaned against it. My hands were still trembling. The apartment was silent except for the ticking clock above the kitchen sink. Usually, the silence helped me think, but tonight it only made me feel more alone.

I dropped my bag onto the couch and immediately pulled out my phone. The recording was still there. I stared at the screen for a long moment before pressing play again. This time, I listened more carefully, hoping I had missed something the first time.

“The money has already been transferred,” the first man said.

“It stays quiet until after the championship, another voice replied.

“The captain doesn't know.”

“He doesn't need to know.”

The recording ended with the sound of footsteps coming toward the door before my breathing filled the rest with the audio. I listened to it three more times, but the words never changed. Whoever those men were, they were hiding something, and somehow the hockey team was connected to it.

I placed the phone on the coffee table and buried my face in my hands. Every journalism student dreamed of finding a story that could make them a career.

Tonight, I had accidentally found one. Instead of feeling excited, I felt terrified. My professor had told me to pay attention, but he had never warned me what it would feel like when the truth started looking back at me.

My phone suddenly rang, making me jump.

Professor Monroe's name appeared on the screen.

I hesitated before answering.

“Sienna.”

His calm voice filled the room.

You left the gala early.

I wasn't feeling well.

There was a brief silence.

I don't think that's the real reason.

I closed my eyes.

“No.”

Did something happen?

I walked over to the window and pulled the curtains aside just enough to look outside. The parking lot was quiet. A few neighbors were walking home, and nothing seemed unusual, yet I couldn't shake the feeling that someone had followed me.

I heard something, I admitted quietly.

What kind of something?

I don't know.

I tightened my grip on the phone. But it didn't sound right.

Professor Monroe remained silent for several seconds.

Finally, he spoke.

Whatever you heard, don't tell anyone else until we talk tomorrow.

Not even the campus newspaper?

Especially not the campus newspaper.

His serious tone caught me off guard.

Why?

Because if this is what I think it is, you need evidence before you accuse anyone.

I have a recording.

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

There was complete silence on the other end.

You recorded it?

Yes.

Sienna...

His voice became much quieter.

Listen to me very carefully.

I'm listening.

Keep that recording somewhere safe.

I already have it on my phone.

No.

His answer came immediately. Back it up.”

Email it to yourself. Save another copy.

If someone tries to take your phone, I don't want that recording disappearing with it.

A chill ran down my spine.

You really think it's that serious?

I hope I'm wrong.

His voice sounded tired.

But I don't believe in taking chances.

After ending the call, I did exactly what he told me. I emailed the recording to myself and saved another copy on my laptop. Only after seeing the files safely stored in three different places did I breathe a little easier.

I had just closed my computer when my phone buzzed again.

This time, it wasn't Professor Monroe.

It was an unknown number.

For a second, I thought about ignoring it.

Instead, I opened the message.

Delete the recording.

My heart stopped.

I stared at the screen, convinced I was imagining things.

Another message appeared almost immediately.

This is your only warning.

The color drained from my face.

No one was supposed to know I had recorded anything.

No one... except the people in that hallway.

My hands began shaking.

All over again.

Someone knew exactly what I had done.

And somehow...

They had found me.