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Home / Romance / Rejected by my team, Claimed by the Rival / Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

All Chapters of Rejected by my team, Claimed by the Rival: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

90 Chapters

Eighty One

AUTHOR'S POVSitting in the air-conditioned darkness of the Ashford Arena managerial office, Talia practically burned holes through her dual monitors.Tuesday morning sunlight bled through the narrow window blinds, casting sharp lines across her messy desk, but she ignored the glare. Her fingers flew aggressively across her mechanical keyboard. The sharp, rapid clicking echoed off the cinderblock walls. She cross-referenced three different offshore LLC records with the localized bank deposits of a suspected teaching assistant. Sienna Hart left a financial paper trail when she bought that fake locker room intelligence, and Talia intended to dig until her fingernails bled to find it.Hitting a massive encrypted firewall, Talia cursed under her breath and typed in a bypass command.The heavy metal office door cracked open.Ben, an undergrad IT admin sporting a faded band t-shirt and thick glasses, slipped quickly inside. He clutched a digital tablet to his chest, looking panicked."Talia

Eighty Two

JEREMIAH "That's my girl," he said, and kissed her hard.His hands slid down her back, grabbed the fabric of her sweatpants, and pulled her against him. She could feel him through his shorts already half hard, thickening by the second as she pressed into him."I had to tell you first," she said against his mouth. "I ran straight here.""Good." His hands found the waistband of her sweatpants. "You ran here in these?""I didn't exactly plan a wardrobe for getting fucked.""That's okay. I planned enough for both of us."He hooked his thumbs into her waistband and pulled. The sweatpants came down hard, dragging her underwear with them, the fabric bunching at her knees. She kicked them off the rest of the way, standing naked from the waist down in the middle of his gym, the air cool on her skin.Jeremiah stepped back just long enough to pull his shorts down. His cock sprang out, thick and hard, the head already dark and glistening. He wrapped his hand around the shaft and stroked once, tw

Eighty Three

JEREMIAH An hour later, the locker room was deserted.Sitting alone on the wooden bench in the far corner, I unlaced my left skate and let it drop to the rubber floor mat. A thick bag of crushed ice rested on my right knee, numbing the dull, persistent ache of an old high school injury. The heavy bass of Miller’s portable speaker was gone, replaced by the low, mechanical hum of the arena’s ventilation system.Reaching for my water bottle, a flicker of movement caught my eye.Beyond the grated metal door leading to the maintenance corridor, a dark shadow passed over the frosted glass block windows.My pulse spiked. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, a sudden surge of paranoia flooding my system. Normal facility staff didn't work in this sector during post-practice hours. Talia mandated a strict clear-out policy to give the players privacy.Dropping the ice pack, I stood up. My knee throbbed, but I ignored the pain.I grabbed a spare composite hockey stick resting against the n

Eighty Four

AUTHOR'S POVSienna was sitting in the sofa at the room's extreme, extending her left hand to the private manicurist hired for the morning. The harsh smell of acetone masked the faint scent of fresh lilies arranged on the glass coffee table."File them sharp," Sienna instructed, barely glancing at the technician. "I want the almond shape, but make the edges dangerous.""Yes, Miss Hart," the technician murmured, filing with quick, practiced strokes.Three younger sorority sisters sat on the adjacent couches, nursing mimosas in crystal flutes, nodding along to whatever social mandate Sienna was delivering."If the Pi Kapps think they can co-host the winter formal with us after that stunt they pulled at the tailgate, they are delusional," Sienna stated, taking a slow sip from her own glass. "We freeze them out. No invites, no plus-ones. We gatekeep the guest list. I want them begging for relevance by midterms.""Valid," Chloe agreed, adjusting her posture. "They brought it on themselves,

Eighty Five

ATHENAThe basement smelled like poor life choices and stale beer.Neon strobe lights sliced through the humid air, illuminating a massive crowd of sweating undergrads packed shoulder-to-shoulder. The DJ, tucked into a dark corner, blasted a heavy EDM remix that rattled my teeth and made the sticky concrete floor vibrate beneath my boots.Standing near the exposed brick wall, I hugged my track jacket tighter around my chest, dodging a guy stumbling past with two sloshing red solo cups."I am officially losing my hearing," Tessa yelled over the music, leaning close to my ear. "This DJ is mid. He is just playing a Spotify playlist and twisting random knobs to look busy. I bet he does not even have the board plugged in.""You dragged me here," I yelled back, scanning the chaotic room. "You promised me a brief, casual distraction from hockey. This looks like a biohazard.""It is a character-building experience," Tessa grinned. "Plus, Liam said he was grabbing provisions."Right on cue, a

Eighty Six

ATHENAThe glow of the dual monitors cast a harsh, blue light across the cramped coaches' office. Rubbing my gritty eyes, I clicked the spacebar, pausing the UCLA game tape for the fifth time in twenty minutes.On the screen, a Bruins forward broke through a weak defensive screen. It was a sloppy transition. I grabbed my dry-erase marker, circling the gap in coverage on the whiteboard resting across my knees. The Ashford Arena sat in dead silence around me. Midnight had passed an hour ago, leaving the sprawling facility feeling like a concrete tomb. The usual hum of the ice chillers provided the only background noise.Leaning back in the squeaky leather chair, I tossed the marker onto the desk. My brain felt like mush. I needed coffee, or maybe just three solid hours of sleep.Without warning, the monitors snapped black.The overhead fluorescent panels flickered once, buzzed a sharp electrical note, and died.Plunged into pure darkness, I froze.Shit.The heavy hum of the chillers spu

Eighty Seven

AUTHOR'S POVCLICK.The brass pins inside the deadbolt clicked into place one by one. Applying steady pressure to the tension wrench, Vaughn twisted his wrist a fraction of an inch. The lock gave way with a soft, metallic snap.He slipped into the narrow dorm room, pulling the heavy door shut behind him. The space smelled of cheap vanilla body spray and stale coffee. Afternoon sunlight cut through the dusty blinds, illuminating a cramped layout shared by two college students. One side of the room featured pink throw pillows and a chaotic pile of clothes. The other side—Athena Cole’s side—was Spartan, organized with military precision.Vaughn approached the neat wooden desk. He pulled a slim, encrypted smartphone from his jacket pocket, muting the shutter sound.Moving with practiced, lethal efficiency, he started documenting her life.Snap. A printed weekly class schedule pinned to a corkboard.Snap. A spiral-bound notebook left open, detailing defensive line-shifts and aggressive for

Eighty Eight

JEREMIAH She was right.Rewinding the tape for the fifth time, I scrubbed a hand over my tired face.Sitting in the living room of my off-campus townhouse, I watched the defensive breakdown play out on my laptop screen. The opponent's center easily bypassed Carter at the blue line. It was a glaring weakness. Athena was right; the zone-defense structure required total commitment, or the whole system collapsed under pressure.My phone buzzed against the glass coffee table, vibrating hard enough to rattle my empty water glass.I picked it up. The caller ID flashed a single, dreaded name: *Arthur*.My jaw tightened. I swiped the green icon, holding the phone to my ear but saying nothing. Let him speak first."Jeremiah," my father said. His voice echoed through the receiver, crisp and casual, lacking any trace of the violence from the hotel room. "I hope I am not interrupting your rigorous academic schedule.""What do you want?" I asked, keeping my tone flat."I was just reviewing some in

Eighty Nine

ATHENAThe annual Greek Life Charity Hockey Game was a circus disguised as a fundraiser.Bleachers packed with hundreds of screaming undergrads vibrated under the weight of sloppy foot-stomping and blaring house music. The air inside the campus rec center arena smelled like stale beer, popcorn, and the distinct desperation of sorority girls trying to look cute in custom-printed jerseys. Down on the ice, Sienna’s Delta Gamma-backed charity squad wobbled on their edges, wearing matching pink jerseys with *Sienna’s Angels* bedazzled across the back.Leaning against the glass of the bench, I gripped my clipboard and blew my whistle."Alright, listen up!" I shouted over the din of the crowd, gathering my hand-picked roster of players around the board. "They are fast on paper, but they are undisciplined. They rely on cherry-picking at the red line. We starve them of space. Miller, you lock down the center. Carter, you press hard on the boards. Do not give them an inch."Miller bounced on hi

Ninety

AUTHOR'S POVPacing the length of her Century City penthouse, Sienna dug her manicured nails into her palms. The sprawling skyline glittered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, a vast grid of amber and white lights, but she saw none of it.Her bare feet slapped against the cold marble floor. The photograph she taped to Athena’s dorm room door was a warning, a strike designed to induce panic. It wasn't enough. Talia surviving the attack in the arena hallway complicated the narrative. The athletic board was terrified of the police presence on campus, freezing all disciplinary actions against the hockey staff to avoid bad PR.She needed a new angle of attack.The heavy mahogany front door clicked open.Sienna spun around, her rigid posture softening for a fraction of a second. Luca walked into the foyer. He looked wrecked. Dark circles bruised the skin under his eyes, his dark hair tangled and unwashed. He wore his gray Westmore track pants and a wrinkled hoodie, carrying none of his u

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