17. Julian
JULIAN
The roar of the crowd echoes faintly through the walls of the locker room, a muffled reminder that kickoff is just minutes away. I sit on the bench, lacing up my cleats with deliberate focus and letting the ritual settle my nerves. Around me, the guys are loud, hyped up, the usual pre-game chaos. But I keep my head down.
I can’t stop thinking about Felix.
We haven’t talked since I humiliated him at the Greco estate. My phone’s been eerily silent, and even though I know I should feel relieved—it’s safer this way—every quiet second feels like a weight pressing on my chest.
I should have told him. I should have come up with some sort of plan with him before I told him he was just a whore to his face, but there was no time.
“Yo, Julian.” Cole’s voice cuts through the noise, dragging me out of my thoughts. He’s leaning casually against the lockers, watching me with that familiar smirk that’s always made me uneasy, though I’ve never been able to pinpoint why.
“What?” I snap. I’m not in the mood for his usual antics.
“Just wondering how things are going with your boy,” he says, his tone light but probing. “Haven’t seen him around lately. Trouble in paradise?”
My hands still on the laces. “He’s not mine.” The words feel like ash in my mouth.
I glance up at him, narrowing my eyes. “We’re done.”
Cole’s smirk widens, a spark of something I can’t quite read flickering in his eyes. “Done, huh? Guess you finally figured out he wasn’t worth it.”
I glare at him, my chest tightening. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Relax, man.” He raises his hands, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying, you can do better. I mean, seriously , Julian. Felix Caruso? He’s not like us. He doesn’t understand what you’re dealing with, what you need .”
“What the fuck do you think I need?” My teeth grind against each other.
Cole smiles. “Well, someone who won’t be a pussy about your whole ‘family situation,’ ya know?”
My stomach drops. “What the fuck?”
“Don’t be surprised, Jules. You know your dad had to put someone on the team to look out for you.”
Of course he did. Of course my dad put a fucking spy on my football team to get dirt on me.
I shake my head and go back to my cleats. “Yeah, well, it’s over.”
Cole claps a hand on my shoulder, and his grip lingers just a little too long. “Good. Honestly, you should’ve seen it sooner. He was a distraction. You don’t need someone like that dragging you down. And hey, you won’t have to worry about him being a problem anymore.”
The words make me freeze. Slowly, I look up at him, my stomach twisting. “What are you talking about?”
Cole shrugs, his grin faltering slightly under my glare. “Nothing, man. Just...I figured you’d want someone to take care of it. So I did.”
I stand, towering over him now, the tension between us snapping taut. “Take care of what , Cole?”
He hesitates, the cocky confidence in his eyes flickering. “Look, don’t freak out. It’s not a big deal.”
I grab his jersey and shove him back against the lockers with a loud clang . The room goes quiet, all eyes suddenly on us, but I don’t care.
“What the hell did you do?” I demand, my voice low and dangerous.
Cole glares at me and tries to push me off, but I pin him in place. “I just gave his name to the Vitales, okay?” he spits out, his voice sharp with frustration. “It’s not like they’re gonna kill him or anything. I just?—”
“You what ?” I slam him back harder, my knuckles whitening as I grip his jersey. My heart is racing, and it feels like the floor just dropped out from under me.
“I knew he was a snitch, Julian!” Cole shouts, his voice cracking. “He was gonna screw everything up for you—for us. He wasn’t good enough for you, and you know it! I mean, come on, you really think someone like him gets you? He doesn’t even belong in your world. But I do.”
His words hit like a punch to the gut, but he doesn’t stop there.
“I’ve always been here, Julian,” Cole says, his voice lower now, more desperate. “I’ve got your back. I understand you. I’m not some charity case you feel sorry for. I’m the one who’s been here for you, who’s?—”
“Shut up.” My voice is ice-cold, but my blood is boiling. “You had no right.”
“He was holding you back!” Cole snaps, his eyes burning with something dark and twisted. “You think I’d just sit by and let him ruin you? I fixed it, Julian. Now he’s their problem, not ours.”
My vision tunnels. I don’t think, I just act. My fist connects with his jaw, and the satisfying crack of bone echoes through the room. Cole stumbles, clutching his face, blood already dripping from his nose.
“You idiot!” I yell, my voice shaking. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Who did you talk to? Who’s your contact?”
The other players start calling for the coach, so I need Cole to start talking fast.
Cole stares up at me, his bravado shattered. “I-I didn’t know it would go this far. They were just supposed to scare him off!”
I grab him by the front of his jersey again and drag him closer. “Who. Did. You. Talk. To?”
His lips tremble, and for the first time, he looks genuinely afraid. “Dante,” he whispers. “Dante Vitale.”
My chest heaves as I let go of him, shoving him back against the lockers. My hands are shaking, and I ball them into fists to steady them.
“You’ve screwed everything up, Cole,” I growl, my voice low. “If anything happens to Felix, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
Cole doesn’t answer, just stares at me with wide eyes, blood smeared across his face.
I turn and storm out of the locker room, my mind racing.
“Greco, where the hell do you think you’re going?” Coach calls after me, but I’m already out the door.
I need to find Felix. Now . Before it’s too late.
***
The warehouse reeks of gasoline and damp concrete, the kind of place you’d expect for a meeting that ends with blood on the floor. My blood, their blood—it doesn’t matter. I move like a ghost through the shadows, my gun heavy in my hands.
The screams of the first two guards still echo faintly in my ears, but they won’t alert anyone else. Not now.
Every step I take sharpens the sound of my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Felix is here. He’s waiting for me somewhere in this labyrinth of crates and steel—waiting and terrified.
I stop at a corner, press my back to the cold wall, and peek around. Two more guards stand at the far end of the corridor, guns casually slung at their sides. They’re laughing, oblivious. I can’t make out their words over the distant hum of machinery, but I don’t need to. They’re about to shut up for good.
I breathe out, aim, and fire. The first one drops instantly, a hole between his eyes. The second barely has time to raise his weapon before I put a bullet through his throat. He gurgles, clutching at the wound as he collapses, and I step over him without a second glance.
The door they were guarding is steel, dented and scratched, with a single deadbolt. I don’t bother with subtlety. One kick sends it flying open, and I’m inside, gun raised.
The steel door groans open, revealing a cavernous room lit by a single flickering bulb. Felix sits in the center, tied to a chair, his head slumped forward. His disheveled hair casts shadows over his face, but even from here, I can see the bruises blooming along his jaw and the dried blood at the corner of his mouth.
Rage flares in my chest, hot and consuming, but I push it down. Not yet.
“Felix,” I call, my voice low but firm as I step inside.
His head jerks up, and his eyes widen when they land on me. “Julian?”
“Yeah, baby, it’s me,” I mutter, untying the ropes from Felix’s wrists. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you? I’ll fucking kill them.”
“Julian, you shouldn’t be here?—”
I grab Felix’s face in my hands and say, “Of course I’m here. I will always protect you.”
Tears well in Felix’s eyes. “But you said?—”
“I didn’t mean it. I was trying to protect you. I would never mean that, Felix. You gotta believe me.”
I help him up from the chair, holding him up when his legs give out from underneath him. “I’m gonna gut them all for doing this to you.”
I scan the room. All of this feels too easy, like they just let me in here.
The sound of footsteps cuts off my thoughts, and I whirl around, my gun raised. Five men file into the room, fanning out like they’ve done this a thousand times before.
One of them, a tall guy with a scar running down his cheek, smirks as he looks me up and down. “Well, well. If it isn’t the king of violence himself. Do I bow or curtsey?”
The others laugh and the man takes a step closer, twirling a knife lazily in his hand. “What’s the matter, quarterback? Lose your way to the field?”
“I’m here for him,” I say, nodding toward Felix. My voice is calm, steady, even though my heart is pounding.
Scarface tilts his head, pretending to think. “Yeah, see, that’s not gonna work for us. You’re out of your league, kid. Five of us, one of you? You really think you’re walking out of here with him?”
He gestures toward me with the knife, his smirk widening. “You’re just a dumb jock. Go back to playing ball. Leave the real work to the grown-ups.”
I don’t respond. I just aim and fire.
The bullet catches him in the shoulder, and he stumbles back with a howl of pain. The smirk vanishes from his face, replaced by pure rage.
“Get him!” he roars, and the room explodes into chaos.
I push Felix behind a crate before a guy rushes me, but he’s slow. Sloppy. I sidestep his swing and crack him across the temple with the butt of my gun. He goes down hard, and I don’t have time to see if he gets back up because the second guy is already coming at me.
I duck under his punch and fire a shot into his stomach. He drops to his knees, clutching the wound, and I spin to face the others.
Scarface charges, knife in hand, and I barely dodge in time. The blade grazes my side, sharp pain blossoming as it slices through fabric and skin. I grit my teeth, ignoring the sting, and slam my elbow into his face. Blood sprays from his nose as he stumbles back, cursing.
“Still think I’m just a football player?” I growl, twisting the knife out of his hand.
He lunges at me again, but I’m faster. My fist connects with his jaw, and he crumples to the ground.
Two more left.
One of them fires a gun, the shot ringing out in the cavernous space. I dive behind a crate, the bullet whizzing past my ear. My breathing is ragged now, and my side throbs where the knife grazed me, but I can’t stop. Felix’s voice echoes in my head—panicked, desperate.
I pop up from my hiding spot and fire twice. The shooter drops, his gun clattering to the floor.
The last guy hesitates, his eyes darting between me and the bodies on the ground. “You’re insane,” he mutters as he takes a step back.
“Yeah,” I say, leveling my gun at him. “And you’re next if you don’t get the hell out of my way.”
He bolts, disappearing through a side door, and I finally lower my gun. My hands are shaking, adrenaline still pumping, but I force myself to focus.
I turn back to Felix and rush to his side. His eyes are wide, his face pale as I crouch down to untie him.
“You...you just took out five guys,” he stammers.
“Four and a half,” I correct, smoothing my hands over his arms. “Are you okay?”
“Julian, you’re hurt?—”
“It’s nothing.” I grab his arm and pull him to his feet. “We need to go. Now.”
As we head for the exit, the alarm goes off. The car is waiting just outside, with my bodyguard behind the wheel.
We’re close—so damn close—when the first shot rings out. It hits me square in the side, the impact knocking me off-balance.
“Julian!” Felix’s voice is a mix of panic and fury as he catches me and drags me into the car.
The pain is blinding, but I force myself to stay conscious, clutching at my side as blood pours between my fingers.
“Drive,” I rasp, and the car speeds off, leaving the warehouse and the chaos behind.
Felix presses his hands against the wound, his face pale and stricken. “Stay with me, Julian. Don’t you dare pass out on me.”
But the edges of my vision are already going dark, and the last thing I hear is Felix’s voice, desperate and breaking.