로그인NOAH'S POV I woke to the low beep of a monitor and the thin gray light of early morning pushing through the hospital blinds. For a few seconds the ceiling tiles above me stayed unfocused. The residual fog of the anesthesia still clung to the edges of my thoughts then the dull, insistent throb in my left forearm pulled everything into place. The cut. The blade. The way I had turned toward Elena’s voice instead of the weapon. The stitches that now held the skin together under a clean white bandage elevated on a foam wedge. I turned my head. Elena was in the chair beside the bed. She had fallen asleep sitting up, her head tipped sideways against the high back of the chair, one hand still loosely curled around a pen. A notebook lay open across her lap. Her credentials from the championship game were still looped around her neck, twisted from the hours of waiting. A faint smear of dried blood—mine—remained near her cheekbone where I had touched her in the annex before the medic arrive
ELENA’S POV They took him through the double doors at 1:14 a.m. I stood in the middle of the surgical waiting room with the blood of his forearm still faintly smeared across my cheek and watched the doors swing shut. The nurse had said the cut was deep but clean, that the tendon had been grazed but not severed, that the surgeon was good and the procedure should be straightforward. She had said all of it in the calm professional voice people used when they wanted the family to breathe. I had just nodded. Then I had sat down in the nearest plastic chair and tried to remember how to do exactly that. The waiting felt familiar in the worst way. First, Ethan and now, Noah. At seventeen I had sat in a different kind of institutional room and waited for an outcome I had already tried to shape with a statement that cost me everything clean about my own name. That night I had been alone. No one had brought coffee. No one had sat beside me and said my name like it still belonged to a person
NOAH'S POV The second the medic finished the temporary wrap I reached for her. Elena was already there. I pulled her in hard, one-armed, the injured forearm held stiff and away from her body so the blood would not ruin more of her clothes than it already had. She came without resistance. Her hands fisted in the front of my shirt immediately, gripping hard enough that the fabric pulled tight across my back. I could feel the fine tremor running through her arms. I could also feel the larger one running through mine—the adrenaline that had kept me on my feet in the annex was leaving in uneven waves, and the shaking came with it. I held on. She held back harder. For a long moment there was only the sound of radios, the low instructions of the officers still clearing the annex, and the rough edge of my own breathing against her hair. The cut on my forearm throbbed in time with my pulse. Blood had already soaked through the towel and the first layer of gauze. I did not look at it. I lo
ELENA’S POV I saw the blade before Noah did. It happened in the second after Jax’s shoulders had already started to collapse, after the security radios had begun to crackle in the hallway, after the worst of the confrontation seemed to have broken. Noah had turned partially toward me, one hand still open at his side. Jax was no longer blocking the door. The threat had looked finished. Then Jax’s right hand moved. Metal caught the light and I screamed his name. “Noah—!” He turned toward the sound of my voice instead of toward the blade. The decision cost him the clean angle he might have used to step back. The knife that had been meant for his face dragged instead across the outside of his left forearm as he brought the arm up on pure reflex. Blood came immediately running down the inside of his wrist and dripping onto the concrete in dark spots. He did not go down. He staggered half a step but his feet stayed under him. The knife clattered away when Jax tried to revers
NOAH'S POVI didn’t announce myself.The door to the old equipment annex was already cracked open, the hallway behind me empty. Most of the building had cleared out hours ago. The championship banners in the main corridor still smelled faintly of the celebration that had ended only the night before. None of that mattered now.I pushed the door wider with the flat of my hand and stepped inside.Jax spun around so fast the metal folding chair behind him scraped hard against the concrete floor. His face was pale under the harsh overhead light, eyes wide and already calculating exits. In the far corner of the room, Elena stood with her back against the wall. Her wrists weren’t bound, but the way Jax had positioned himself between her and the only door made the threat clear enough. One of his hands hovered near his jacket pocket. The other was raised slightly, as if he had been in the middle of telling her to stay quiet.The situation was stable. Just barely.“It’s over, Jax. They know eve
ELENA'S POV A good journalist knows that everyone has a story they are dying to tell, especially the people who think they've been backed into a corner. They just need someone to ask the right questions—or give them enough rope to hang themselves with. Jax was breathing hard, pacing a tight three-foot circle in front of me, the heavy metal wrench still clutched in his white-knuckled fist. His leftover morality was dealing with him. There was still the jovial and funny Jax I knew somewhere in there, buried under whatever Lora had talked him into becoming tonight. The sub-basement smelled like standing water and old rust, and somewhere above us a pipe ticked as it cooled. "Jax," I said softly, keeping my tone light, inquisitive, completely stripped of fear. "Your dad still lives down in North Ridgewood, right? The penthouse on 4th?" Jax stopped mid-stride. His head snapped toward me, his eyes wide and bloodshot. "How... how do you know about my dad?" "Because I do my research, Jax
NOAH'S POV The knock on her door was soft and I knew she had heard it by all means.I stood in the dimly lit hallway of her dorm building, blood still drying on my hoodie, my split lip throbbing with every heartbeat. My knuckles burned where they’d split open against Jax’s face. I shouldn’t be her
NOAH'S POV The second Elena pulled that envelope from the bottom of Ethan’s locker, the entire world narrowed to a single white rectangle in her hands.I felt it before I even saw the name. That familiar sick twist in my gut. The one that never really went away no matter how many points I scored o
ELENA'S POVOkay so in my defense, I was exactly where I was supposed to be.I need that on record before anything else because knowing Noah he has already constructed a version of this story where I wandered into the middle of a live drill waving my camera around like I had a death wish, and I ref
ELENA’S POVI told myself I’d only wait five minutes, but that was an hour ago. Now I was standing in the corridor like a complete idiot, Noah’s varsity jacket folded too neatly in my arms, pretending I had a shred of dignity left. Every time the heavy doors at the end of the hallway groaned open,







