25. Sam
My phone buzzes, Joe's name flashing on the screen. I answer, anticipation coiling in my gut.
"Sam, we've got a problem," Joe's voice crackles through the speaker.
"Spit it out," I growl, pacing in my gym where I've been spending more and more time.
"The test results came back inconclusive. Some fuck-up at the lab."
"You've gotta be shitting me." I slam my fist into a wall.
"Wish I was. But that's not all. The press saw you bringing Kim out of the police station. They're having a field day, linking your name with hers and those charges."
"Goddamnit!" I roar, kicking over a chair. It clatters against the hardwood floor. "This is a setup, Joe. I'm being framed."
"Look, you need to lay low for a while. Let this blow over-"
"Fuck that," I snarl, cutting him off. "I'm not hiding like some guilty piece of shit. I'm gonna find out who's behind this."
I hang up, tossing the phone on the ground. My mind races, piecing together the puzzle. The botched test, the press conveniently catching me with Kim, getting benched with — potentially kicked off of — the team. It all reeks of a setup.
I grab my phone again, scrolling through contacts. There's only one person who can get to the bottom of this mess.
"Xavier," I bark when he answers. "I need your services. Discreetly."
Xavier Reeves, the best private investigator money can buy. Ex-CIA, with a network that puts the NSA to shame.
"Mr. Warwick," his smooth voice replies. "What seems to be the problem?"
I lay it out for him - the false accusations, the suspicious timing, the potential sabotage. "I want answers, Xavier. No stone unturned, no lead ignored. I don't care what it costs."
"Understood. I'll start immediately. Expect daily updates."
I end the call, a grim smile tugging at my lips. Whoever's trying to take me down is about to learn a hard lesson. Nobody fucks with Sam Warwick and gets away with it.
I return to my workout, channeling my rage into each rep. The weights clang as I push myself harder, sweat dripping down my face. My muscles burn, but it's nothing compared to the fire in my veins. Someone's trying to fuck with me, and they're gonna pay.
The phone rings. Xavier. I snatch it up, adrenaline pounding through my veins. It's only been a few hours, so I'm eager to know why he's calling back so quickly.
"Talk to me," I growl, still breathing heavy from the workout.
"Mr. Warwick, I've got something," Xavier's cool voice comes through. "It's not much, but it's a start."
I grab a towel, wiping my face. "Spit it out."
"The person framing you? They're on your team."
My blood runs cold. "What the fuck? You sure about this?"
"Positive. The evidence points to an inside job. Someone with intimate knowledge of your routines, opportunity to access your medical records and the same facilities."
"Jesus Christ," I mutter, pacing the gym. "Any names?"
"Not yet. But I'm closing in. Give me a few more hours."
I clench my fist, knuckles white. "Make it fast, Xavier. I want this fucker's head on a platter."
"Understood. I'll call as soon as I have more."
I hang up, tossing the phone aside. A teammate. Someone I trusted, someone I fought alongside on the ice. The betrayal stings worse than any check into the boards.
My mind races through the roster. Who could it be? Matthew, the new guy I roughed up? But he's small fry, not smart enough for this. Coach? Nah, he's been in my corner since day one.
I slam my fist into the punching bag, the impact reverberating through my arm. Whoever it is, they're gonna wish they never crossed Sam Warwick. I'll make sure of that.
Finally done with my workout, I climb the stairs up two floors. The news from Xavier burns in my mind, fueling my anger and determination.
The need to tell Kim is overwhelming. She's been involved in everything else so far and…I've gotten used to talking to her.
As I approach her room, I hear movement inside. My hand pauses on the doorknob, a strange hesitation gripping me. Since when do I, Sam fucking Warwick, hesitate?
I push the door open. "Kim, we need to talk. I've got some-"
The words die in my throat. Kim stands in the middle of the room, a suitcase — where the fuck did she get a suitcase — open on the bed behind her. Clothes are strewn everywhere, like she's been frantically packing.
"Sam," she says, her voice tight. "I was just coming to find you."
I step into the room, my eyes darting between her face and the suitcase. "What's going on?"
She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "I'm leaving."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. "What? No, you can't-"
"I can, and I am," she cuts me off, her brown eyes blazing with determination. "This... whatever this is between us, it's not healthy. It's not right."
I clench my fists, anger and fear warring inside me. "You don't understand. There's something going on, someone's trying to frame me-"
"Stop," Kim says, holding up a hand. "Just stop, Sam. I don't want to hear it. I can't be part of this anymore."
She turns back to her suitcase, grabbing another handful of clothes. The sight of her packing, preparing to walk out of my life, sends a jolt of panic through me.
"You aren't going anywhere," I growl. "I told you, you are mine ."
She whirls around, her braids whipping through the air. "Am I? Because you kidnapped me? Because you've kept me here against my will? The way I see it, you are the reason everything with Nathan happened because I wasn't there to stop it!"
I grit my teeth. I don't regret a damn thing I have done. And I will continue to do whatever it takes to keep her here, where she belongs.
"You wouldn't have been safe there! I keep you where you need to be, give you whatever you want-"
"What I want is to leave!" She turns and looks at me. "And you told me I could."
I swallow hard. I did. But that was before I had a taste of her and my obsession has blossomed into something more.
"I'm not letting you," I tell her firmly.
"No." Kim shakes her head, zipping up her suitcase. "I'm done doing this with you. I'm done being your prisoner, your plaything, your little dancer."
She grabs the handle of the suitcase, lifting it off the bed. I move without thinking, my hand shooting out to grab her arm.
"You're not going anywhere," I snarl, my grip tightening.
Kim's eyes narrow, a dangerous glint appearing in them. "Let. Go. Of. Me."
The tension in the room is palpable, crackling like electricity between us. We stand there, locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to back down.
The rage bubbles up inside me, hot and visceral. My vision narrows, focusing solely on Kim and that damn suitcase. She can't leave. She won't leave. I won't let her.
"You're not going anywhere," I growl, tightening my grip on her arm.
Kim's eyes flash dangerously. "Let go of me, Sam. I mean it."
"No." My voice is low, menacing. "You belong here. With me."
She tries to wrench her arm free, but I hold fast. "I don't belong to anyone, least of all you!"
The fire in her eyes only fuels my determination. I yank her closer, our faces inches apart. "Everything out there is a threat. Your brother, the press, whoever's trying to frame me. You're safer here."
"Safe?" Kim scoffs, her breath hot against my face. "You call being held prisoner safe?"
"I call it protection," I snarl. "And you're staying put."
She shoves against my chest, hard. "You can't keep me here!"
"Watch me." I release her arm, only to grab the suitcase. In one fluid motion, I hurl it across the room. It crashes against the wall, clothes spilling out like guts from a carcass.
Kim's eyes widen, a mix of shock and fury. "You're insane!"
"Maybe," I concede, stepping closer. "But I'm also right. You're staying where you belong."
She backs away, her hands balled into fists. "This isn't where I belong, Sam. This isn't healthy, it isn't right!"
"I don't give a fuck about right," I snap. "I care about keeping you safe. About keeping you mine."
Kim's back hits the wall. She's cornered now, nowhere to run. "I'm not yours," she hisses. "I never was."
I slam my palms against the wall on either side of her head, caging her in. "You are. You have been since the moment I laid eyes on you. And you always will be."
Her chest heaves, her breath coming in quick gasps. I can see the conflict in her eyes, the way she fights against the pull between us.
"This ends now," I say, my voice low and final. "You're staying here, where you're safe. Where you belong."
Before she can argue, I step back and stride to the door. Kim lunges forward, but I'm faster. I slam the door shut and turn the key, locking her inside.
"Sam!" She pounds on the door. "Let me out, you bastard!"
I lean my forehead against the cool wood, my heart racing. "It's for your own good, little dancer," I murmur. "You'll see."
Her muffled curses follow me down the hallway, but I don't look back. I've made my choice. She's mine, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. To keep her here. With me.