Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Do you believe it’s one of those four men?” she asks.
“I do.”
“Which one?”
“Maybe all of them.” I look her dead in the eye. “Let them come for me. Peter Brennan. Jace Holloway. Ryan DeLuca. Colton Briggs. I’m calling you out and I want to know if any of you are man enough to face me.”
Jillian’s fingers freeze above her keys.
“I should have said this a decade ago,” I continue. “Should have looked you each in the eye and told you what I thought of you. You picked on a scared, innocent kid and left him to die. You were supposed to be his teammates—his brothers. But you weren’t. You were cowards.”
My words are sharp, clipped. “Then you turned on me for doing the right thing. Turned on Mila. You made her an enemy for exposing the truth. You threatened her. You’ve been making her life hell. And I’ve had enough.”
Jillian’s mouth is slightly open now, her expression unreadable.
“You want to punish someone?” I say, rising to my feet. “You come after me. I’m the one who went to the cops first. I’m the one who testified. I’m the one who’s putting my name on this story. But if you lay one fucking finger on Mila…”
I pause, taking in a gulp of air to calm myself.
“I will come for you. And I promise—I will make you wish you’d stayed buried in the past where you belong.”
Silence follows as Jillian stares at me agog. “You want that printed word for word?”
“Word for word,” I say tightly. “Feel free to embellish with sensory details. You hear my conviction, I’m sure.”
Jillian snaps out of it, her fingers flying. “Oh, I hear it all right. Gave me a cold chill down my spine.” She smiles almost gleefully and continues typing. “Pretty sure that’s going to do the job and piss them off.”
“I hope so,” I say, reaching to pull Mila to her feet. “That’s the whole point. To draw them out. And end this. How soon can this go to print?”
Jillian glances at her watch and then lifts her gaze to us. “If you two get out of here and let me work, I can get it off to my editor by day’s end. He’s waiting for it, and we can print it tomorrow.”
Relief flushes through me, because even though I just threw down the proverbial glove to four vile pieces of human trash, I feel euphoric that this will end soon. Between Jameson digging into these guys and me poking them, someone has to fuck up.
CHAPTER 19
Mila
The article is live and now we wait to see if this will poke the bear.
Penn and I sit in his kitchen, huddled side by side. His coffee sits untouched. My tea has long gone cold. Both of us stare at our phones, scrolling through the story Jillian wrote and published just an hour ago.
I already knew every word that she printed, yet I can’t stop reading it again and again. The headline is bold and direct: “Penn Navarro Breaks His Silence: The Hazing, the Cover-Up, and the Fight to End It.”
Each word packs a punch—raw, honest and explosive. Jillian didn’t change a word of what Penn said. He went into that interview with conviction, and what came out rectified years of silence. She described his demeanor in vivid detail—the edge in his voice, the steel in his eyes. She quoted every single line he wanted published, including the one that dared the men who terrorized Nathan—and now us—to come after him.
And now the messages are pouring in.
I glance at Penn, who’s thumbing through texts and emails, his jaw clenched. Not with anger—he’s overwhelmed. I know because I am too.
“Your DMs still blowing up?” I ask gently.
“Yeah.” He drags a hand through his hair. “Couple of old teammates. A bunch of strangers. That guy from SportsCenter called me a goddamn legend.”
“Most of my messages are people apologizing,” I say. “For not believing me. For thinking I made it up.”
Penn’s hand finds mine and squeezes. “They should apologize. And you don’t owe any of them a reply.”
Penn’s phone chimes and he goes still, reading yet another text message. “McLendon,” he murmurs.
I lean over and he tilts the phone my way so I can see Jacob’s message. That was gutsy and I respect it. You’ve made me rethink things. Maybe we can talk some more when you’re up to it.
My hand covers his wrist and I push the phone down until he sets it on the counter. His eyes meet mine in question.
“You have handled this in such a genuine fashion, you’re making a lot of people think twice about it. It will open a dialogue about hazing, responsibility and doing the right thing. I’m proud of you, Penn.”
There’s a flicker in his eyes, just a moment where it looks as though he might shut down on me, but it vanishes like smoke. Left behind is gratitude and he punctuates it by wrapping a hand around my nape and pulling me closer. His lips press against my forehead and when he pulls back, his expression is intensely serious. “I wouldn’t have done this had you not shown up on my doorstep. This is all thanks to you. My life has changed completely… thanks to you.”