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CHAPTER 8 — THE MORNING AFTER
Fecha de publicación:
2026-09-03 18:11:18
Último capítulo
Until the Final Whistle CHAPTER 8 — THE MORNING AFTER
EVELYN---She woke to the sound of rain and the smell of coffee that wasn't hers.For a long moment she didn't move, just lay there with the blanket twisted around her legs, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling and trying to piece together how she'd ended up here. Her flat. Her sofa. Luca's jacket still draped over the back of her chair. The memory of his mouth on hers.It came back in fragments. The fight. The tears. The way he'd kissed her like he was drowning and she was the only air left in the room. Then the quiet. The blanket. Him telling her to sleep.And she had. Like an idiot. Like a woman who hadn't spent five years building walls that crumbled the moment he touched her.She sat up. Her head ached. Her eyes were swollen. She probably looked like hell. Good. She felt like hell.Luca was standing in her kitchen, drinking from one of her mugs like he owned the place. His back was to her. Wet hair curling at the collar of a hoodie that had definitely seen better days. The hoodie w
Until the Final Whistle CHAPTER 7 — THE THINGS WE COULDN'T SAY
EVELYN---Luca didn't sit.He stood by the window, arms crossed, staring at the city lights like they might offer him something he'd lost. The rain was gone, but the glass was still wet, streaks of water catching the orange glow from the street below. The silence between them stretched so thin Evelyn could hear her own pulse."Say something," she whispered.He didn't turn around. "What do you want me to say?""Anything. Yell at me. Tell me you hate me. Tell me I ruined your life." She swallowed. "Just stop being so quiet. I can't take the quiet."He turned then, slowly, his dark eyes settling on her face with an expression that made her chest cave in. There was no anger there. No coldness. Just exhaustion. The kind that lived in a man who'd spent five years pretending he wasn't bleeding."I don't hate you," he said. "I tried. I wanted to. It would've been easier.""Easier than what?""Easier than loving someone who left without saying goodbye. Easier than waking up in that flat, reac
Until the Final Whistle Chapter 6 - Digging
Evelyn checked the locks three times before she let herself sit down.The flat was silent. Too silent. The kind of silence that made every creak sound like a footstep and every shadow look like a man standing in the corner. She'd left the lights off when she came in, moving through the rooms by memory, her phone clutched in her hand like a weapon. Now she sat on the edge of her sofa, still in her damp coat, staring at the dark window.The rain had stopped. The city glowed beyond the glass, wet streets reflecting orange streetlights. She could see the training ground in the distance, the floodlights still burning, cutting through the low clouds. Somewhere in that building, Luca was probably still awake. Probably staring at the same sky. Probably thinking about the same photograph.Her phone buzzed.She flinched. The sound was too loud in the quiet room. She looked down at the screen, her chest already tight.Unknown number.The message was shorter this time. Three words.Stop digging,
Until the Final Whistle CHAPTER 5 — THE COFFEE SHOP
The bell above the door chimed when Luca stepped inside, and Evelyn felt the sound in her chest.He stood in the doorway, rain dripping from his dark hair onto the floor, his shoulders filling the frame. The barista looked up, then quickly looked away. Everyone knew who he was. Even in a dim coffee shop three miles from the training ground, the Wolf was recognizable. But nobody approached him. Nobody asked for a photo. There was something in his face that warned people to keep their distance.Evelyn stayed perfectly still. Her cold coffee sat on the table between them like a shield. She didn't invite him to sit. She didn't speak. She just watched him cross the room and slide into the booth across from her, dripping water onto the cracked vinyl seat."I said we needed to talk," he said."So talk."The words came out harder than she intended. It was easier this way. Hostility was armor. Hostility was safe.His jaw tightened. "What did Damien say to you?""That's none of your business."
Until the Final Whistle CHAPTER 4 — THE MESSAGE
The stairwell door clicked shut.Evelyn stood in the silence. Her father's voice still pressed against her skull. Not the words. The tone. Calm. Absolute. Like a blade wrapped in velvet.Keep your relationship with Captain Moretti strictly professional.She didn't cry. She'd stopped crying over Damien Ashford when she was fifteen and he'd missed her mother's anniversary dinner for a board meeting. But her hands were shaking. She looked down at them. Pale fingers. White knuckles. The hands of a woman who'd spent five years building a life on the other side of the ocean just to walk back into a cage she thought she'd escaped.Her phone buzzed.Then buzzed again.She pulled it from her bag. Two messages. The first from Sarah.Hey! Footage from this morning looks great. The captain actually smiled in one take. Barely. I'll take it.The second message made her stomach drop.Unknown number. No name. Just four words.He knows about you.Evelyn stared at the screen. The fluorescent light abov
Until the Final Whistle CHAPTER 3 — THE CHAIRMAN'S OFFICE
The executive floor was nothing like the rest of Blackridge FC.Downstairs, the building buzzed with noise. Boots on concrete. Laughter echoing through corridors. The constant thrum of a football club alive and breathing. Up here, there was only silence. Thick carpet swallowed every footstep. The air smelled like leather and old money. The walls were lined with framed photographs. Trophies gleamed inside glass cases. Signed shirts from legends who had worn the black and red decades before Luca Moretti ever laced his boots.Evelyn had walked these halls as a child. She remembered skipping ahead of her father while he took phone calls, her small fingers tracing the glass cases, her reflection ghosting over the silver trophies. Back then, this floor had felt like a palace. Magical. Full of stories.Now it just felt cold.Damien's assistant led her past a row of offices. Through the glass walls, she could see executives in suits, their faces illuminated by laptop screens. Two of them stop
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