Romans & histoires Jordan Hare Stadium Seating Chart

The announcer stretches out my name like they do for a boxing match. Lane nudges my arm as we come to a stop. “Wave at your fans, Jordan.” I lift my hand and wave to the crowd. They go even crazier. Our colors are navy blue and a dark burnt orange, but all I notice is a sea of white jerseys with pink number nines on them. Girls of all ages jump up and down and scream my name. I can’t help the tear that breaks and trails down my cheek. There’s no way to wipe it until I take my helmet off and I’ll be damned if I don’t allow my emotions to show freely. I make a last sweeping turn of the stadium, lower my arm, and run to the sideline with Lane.

" Well I missed my pregnant lady and I wanted to spend time with her, there's nothing wrong with that right?" " Do you have a ticket?" I asked because, from the crowd that was here, I doubted he could get a last-minute ticket. " I'm a billionaire, did you forget that?" Showoff. He held my hand and led us to our seat and surprisingly it was the seat next to mine. I would ask him how, but I already knew the answer. The game kicked off as the announcer announced the team and everyone cheered. Hardin's team was the Black Eagle team and they were up against the Wolves.

“Convenient timing.” We find the crowd spilling out of the entrance already. Inside, the place is all noise and color—the buzz of the lights, the sharp squeak of sneakers on the polished court, the smell of popcorn and Gatorade and something fried. Every sound bounces off the walls like the room itself is vibrating. “God,” Jordan mutters, craning his neck. “We’re late. You think there’s still space near the front?” We try. But the lower bleachers are a sea of heads and waving arms. The closest we can manage is halfway up, with a decent angle of the court.

In the center of the venue, there was an empty piece of land that was about the size of a soccer field. Seats rose in tiers around it. The tiers were already filled with martial sect apprentices who had come to watch. Bertie and Drake headed straight to the main grandstand on the north side. They bowed respectfully to Sebastian and said, "Please be seated, Mr. Ballard." Sebastian did not stand on formality with the two of them. He sat in the main seat of the north grandstand at once.

Standing inside it now, surrounded by fighters, servants, guards, and the kind of patrons who could afford quarter-million-dollar seats, she understood for the first time exactly how small Knox had intended her to feel. The arena seated three thousand. Today it held closer to four, with additional viewing platforms extended from the luxury boxes above and holographic screens suspended from the ceiling to ensure no angle went unwatched. The air smelled of expensive cologne and barely contained excitement, the specific combination Sierra had always associated with men who had too much money and not enough consequences.