Hailey's pov
We didn’t go home.
Roy took back roads, doubling back twice to make sure no headlights followed. My hands shook the entire drive, adrenaline crashing into cold fear. He kept one hand on the wheel, the other locked around mine like a lifeline.
As soon as we hit a straight stretch, he dialed Ryan on speaker.
“It’s the Vargas,” Roy said without greeting. “Brighton’s working with them. Planning to take me out at tomorrow’s game—equipment sabotage, maybe worse. They gave him a gun. We were spotted. Shots fired.”
Ryan’s voice was deadly calm. “How many?”
“Four. Armed. They’ll come hard now.”
A beat of silence. “Get to the safe house. I’m rallying everyone—our guys, allies, whoever owes us. This ends tomorrow.”
Roy nodded even though Ryan couldn’t see. “Brighton’s desperate.
