What Happens At The End Of 'Don'T Put Me In Coach'?

My boyfriend cheated. So I made his father mine. I didn’t get into gaming for the fame. I did it to survive. Growing up in a cramped apartment with a worn-out mom and a string of violent men, League of Legends was the only escape I had. After she died, it became all I had left. Now I’m the star ADC at Blackwood University, playing for a national title and the future I clawed my way toward. I should’ve seen it coming—my captain boyfriend screwing my best friend. I didn’t cry. I plotted. And Marcus Cross, our ruthless coach and my ex’s father, is the perfect weapon. What starts as revenge turns into something else. Something darker breaking rules . Is it still revenge if it feels this good?

The day I win the cheerleading championship, the entire arena erupts with cheers for my team. But from the stands, my brother, Nelson Locke, hurls a water bottle straight at me. "You injured Felicia's leg before the performance just so you could win first place? She has leukemia, Victoria! Her dying wish is to become a champion. Yet you tripped her before the competition, all for a trophy! You're selfish. I don't have a sister like you!" My fiance, who also happens to be the sponsor of the competition, steps onto the stage with a cold expression and announces, "You tested positive for illegal substances. You don't deserve this title. You're disqualified." All the fans turn against me. They boycott me entirely—some even go so far as to create a fake memorial portrait of me, print it, and send it to my doorstep. I quietly keep the photo. I'll probably need it soon anyway. It's been three years since I was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. Knowing I don't have much time left, I choose to become the type of person they always wanted me to be—the perfect sister who loves without question, the well-mannered woman who knows when to keep quiet, and the kind of person who never, ever lies.

Mate. Everyone in my pack dreams of hearing that one word at the Mating Ball, but for someone like me—a shadow wolf—this word may sound like a death sentence. I'm Asena Jordart, the illegitimate daughter of the great warrior, Erebus Jordart, and my wolf spirit is still asleep. For someone like me, a love game might become a gamble where life is at stake. Foolishly, I decided to risk it all for the one I loved, Kylar Venelo. The Alpha's son found his weak mate unworthy of becoming his Luna. Not caring whether I would live or die, he rejected me before the entire pack, savoring every second of my agony. The Fates decided I didn't die. I found my new life high in the mountains. I found a teacher who trained me to fight, and I found my life's purpose. As a leader of the resistance group, I fought against Alpha King Khaos's tyranny and saved lives. Then the Fates mocked me, forcing me to return to my old pack and help those who mistreated me. In order to free the members of my old pack and my dear sister, I had to give up on my own freedom, becoming a captive of Alpha Khaos's most brutal general, Alpha Kaan. Surprisingly, I found that being close to this vicious man was equally terrifying and fascinating. Once I tore through the layers of the cold-blooded killer, I found someone for whom my heart began to thunder. Now I begin to fear that he might be my second chance mate… And another rejection will surely be my death.

In the eighth year of helping Keith Hunter pay off his debts, I was diagnosed with stomach cancer. I tested the waters and asked him, half joking, "If I got cancer, would you save me?" He laughed, saying I was overthinking it. Then he added firmly, "If it ever came to that, I would sell my blood to pay for your treatment." I lay awake all night, tossing and turning, still feeling like I couldn't drag him down with me. Before taking a sleeping pill, a notification popped up on my phone about a social media post. [How do I dump an older woman who paid off my debts for eight years without too much drama?] The profile picture looked eerily like Keith's silhouette from behind. He wrote, [Eight years ago, my family went bankrupt. She stuck with me, living off dry toast and squeezing into a rented apartment. She helped me pay back over 600 thousand dollars in debt. [Back then, I thought she was innocent and cute. Now, I feel like she's just a materialistic woman putting on an act. [Last month, she even asked whether I would save her if she got cancer. How does someone even ask that? [Obviously, she was trying to get money out of me. Good thing I didn't tell her that my family recovered three years ago. [Now, my family has arranged a fiancée for me. She's the daughter of a publicly listed company. [I want to cut things off with my girlfriend, but I'm afraid she'll cling to me. After all, she wasted a lot of her youth on me.] By the time I finished reading, I had crushed the stomach cancer diagnosis in my hand into a wrinkled mess.

It's the Werewolves' Hunting Festival today. It's been three months since I found my mate. During the festival, male werewolves will give the prey they've hunted to their mates. It's a way to show their strength and love for their mates. However, my mate, Chris Ashwood, tells me to give up on him and pick another mate, seeing as there are so many other outstanding Alphas around. I nod calmly and agree. In my past life, I disagreed and insisted on marrying him. However, he didn't mark me after we got married. In fact, he was stargazing in the desert with his true love when I was shot by a bounty hunter and gravely injured. Perhaps this is just a game of heart-hunting that should never have begun.

Dad is famous for being a total simp over Mom in the elite society. Naturally, he views Callie Archer, the stepdaughter whom Mom has brought with her, as his own. But Callie is afflicted with a severe case of walking phobia. Her feet couldn't touch the ground at all. Only when she's stepping on my back can she roam around in the house freely. So, whenever Callie looks in a certain direction, Mom will press my head down and force me to crawl toward Callie to serve as her doormat. The doctor issues a warning to my family that my spine is severely contorted. So when Callie wants to admire the flowers in the yard while wearing a pair of spiked shoes again, I can't endure the pain anymore, so I shiver slightly out of instinct. Callie ends up losing her balance and falling to the ground. She bawls like a baby afterward. Mom rushes over immediately before kicking me in the gut, her high heel lodging into my flesh. "It's extremely rare for Callie to be willing to leave the house! Why must you ruin her mood? Can't you just be more understanding and play your role as a doormat for the sake of your sister's illness?" Meanwhile, Dad scoops Callie into his arms, his heart bleeding for her plight. He coaxes her gently, telling her that he'll buy her new dresses later. I can only curl up on the ground while hacking up blood. But Dad just thinks I'm playing the pity card. He commands his men to throw me into the basement. Apparently, I can only be released once I've learned to stay stationary when I'm supporting Callie. As I clutch my broken ribs, I feel my tears flowing down my face as well as the blood from my injuries. I'm sorry, Dad. Next time, I will definitely not move a muscle, just like a corpse.