Chapter 13: The Gym, Round Two
The safe house had gone quiet.
Maya had fallen asleep on the mattress, curled into a tight ball with her jacket pulled up to her chin. Danny was still at the laptop, his face lit blue by the screen, fingers moving across the keyboard as he scheduled the final batch of emails. Every news outlet. Every Title IX coordinator. Every member of the board of trustees. The files were loaded. The timestamps were set. At 6:00 a.m., the world would wake up to the truth about Davis and his brother and every filthy thing they'd done.
Hailey sat against the wall, knees pulled to her chest, watching the clock on her phone tick past 2:47.
She should have been exhausted. Her body was a roadmap of bruises—Davis's fingerprints still livid on her hips, Mack’s grip still burning on her wrist. Her ass ached from where both those fat brothers had fucked her. Her cunt ached from an odd longing.
But she wasn't tired.
She was wired. Buzzing. Every nerve ending in her body felt like it had been stripped raw and dipped in gasoline.
She stood up. Walked to the door.
Danny looked up. "Where are you going?"
"Out."
"Out where?"
She didn't answer. Just grabbed her keys and walked into the night.
The gym was dark when she pulled into the back lot. The neon sign was off. The windows were black. But the back door—the same steel door she'd run through less than two hours ago—was unlocked.
She pushed it open.
The smell hit her first. Bleach and sweat and something metallic underneath. The fluorescent lights were still on, buzzing overhead, casting that same sickly glow over the empty gym.
She walked past the treadmills. Past the weight racks. Past the mirrors where she could see herself—hair tangled, mascara smeared, jacket zipped up to her chin.
Third door on the left.
She didn't knock this time.
Mack was sitting behind his desk. There was a fresh bottle of Jameson in front of him—half gone. A bandage was wrapped around his thigh where she'd stabbed him, the white gauze stained pink at the edges.
He looked up when she walked in.
His eyes went wide. Then narrow.
"You've got some nerve," he said.
She closed the door behind her.
"I came to finish what we started."
Mack set down his glass. Stood up. He winced when he put weight on his leg, but he didn't sit back down. He just stood there, staring at her, trying to figure out what kind of game she was playing.
"You stabbed me," he said.
"You fucked me first."
"I fucked you because you let me."
"I let you because I needed those keys."
"Same difference."
She walked toward him. Slow. Deliberate. Her heels clicked on the concrete floor.
Mack watched her. His jaw was tight. His hands were clenched at his sides. But his eyes—his eyes kept flicking down to her mouth, to her chest, to the sway of her hips.
"You're crazy," he said. "You know that?"
"Probably."
"You think you can just walk in here and—"
She unzipped her jacket. Let it fall.
Underneath, she was wearing nothing but a black lace bra and the same torn dress from earlier. The dress was ripped at the hem, stained with sweat. The bra was sheer enough that he could see her nipples through the fabric.
Mack stopped talking.
She stepped closer. Close enough to smell the whiskey on his breath. Close enough to see the pulse jumping in his throat.
"You want to know why I'm here?" she said.
He didn't answer.
"I'm here because I can't sleep. I'm here because every time I close my eyes, I feel your brother's hands on me. I feel your cock in my ass. I feel everything, and I can't make it stop."
She reached out. Pressed her palm flat against his chest. Felt his heartbeat under her hand.
"So I'm going to do something about it."
She pushed him back. His knees hit the chair. He sat down hard, grunting when his thigh hit the armrest.
She straddled him.
His hands came up automatically—gripping her hips, steadying her. His breath was coming fast now. She could feel his cock hardening beneath her, pressing against the thin fabric of his sweatpants.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm taking what I want."
She ground against him. Slow circles. She could feel him getting harder, feel the heat of him through the layers of fabric. Her cunt was already wet—she'd been wet since she walked through the door.
"Jesus," he muttered.
She reached between them. Found the waistband of his sweatpants. Pulled them down just enough to free his cock.
It was thick. Long. The head was already slick with precum.
She lifted herself up. Positioned him at her entrance.
Then she sank down.
"Fuck," Mack groaned.
She didn't go slow. She took him all the way in one push—felt herself stretch around him, felt him hit something deep inside her that made her gasp.
"Fuck," she said again. "Fuck, that's—"
She started moving.
Her hands braced on his shoulders. Her hips rolling. Her tits right in his face.
Mack grabbed her ass. Fingers digging into the firm flesh. He pulled her down harder, slamming up into her with a rough, desperate rhythm.
"You like this?" he grunted. "You like my cock in your cunt?"
"You've got a fucking mouth on you," she said. "Did anyone ever tell you that?"
"Maybe."
She rode him harder. Faster. The chair creaked beneath them. The desk scraped against the floor. His bottle of Jameson tipped over and shattered, whiskey soaking into the concrete.
She could feel the orgasm building—hot and sharp and inevitable.
"Look at me," she said.
He looked up. His eyes were wild. His mouth was open. He was close—she could feel it in the way his cock twitched inside her.
"I want you to remember this," she said. "I want you to remember that I came back. I want you to remember that I fucked you, and I walked away, and you couldn't do a goddamn thing to stop me."
She came.
Her back arched. Her nails dug into his shoulders—so hard she drew blood. A cry tore out of her throat, raw and primal.
Mack followed a second later. He buried his face in her neck and groaned her name—"Hailey, oh fuck, Hailey"—his hips jerking, his cock pulsing inside her.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then she climbed off him.
Pulled her jacket back on. Zipped it up.
Mack was slumped in the chair like a broken thing. His sweatpants were still around his ankles. His cock was still out, softening. Blood was seeping through the bandage on his thigh.
She looked down at him. Her face was blank.
"That's for the storage unit," she said.
She walked toward the door.
"And this," she said, turning back, "is for calling your brother."
She came back. Stood over him. His eyes widened—he knew what was coming, but he was too slow, too spent to stop it.
She kneed him in the balls. Hard.
Mack doubled over with a wheeze. A strangled sound came out of his throat—half scream, half sob. He slid off the chair and onto the floor, curling into a ball, hands cupping his groin.
She watched him for a moment. Then she walked out.
The night air was cold on her face. The stars were out. Somewhere in the distance, a dog was barking.
She got into her car. Started the engine.
And then she laughed.
It was a wild, reckless sound—the kind of laugh that belonged to someone who'd been pushed past the edge and had decided to jump. It echoed through the empty parking lot, bounced off the brick walls, and disappeared into the dark.
She drove back to the safe house with the windows down. Her hair whipped around her face. The radio was off, but she didn't need it. She had her own soundtrack now.
When she walked through the door, Danny was still at the laptop. Maya was still asleep.
Danny looked up. His eyes scanned her—messy hair, swollen lips, fresh scratches on her neck.
"You went back to the gym," he said.
"Yeah."
"Why?" he asked.
She walked to the mattress. Sat down. Pulled the blanket up to her chin.
"Because I needed to."
Danny stared at her for a long moment. Then he shook his head.
"You're not the girl I expected," he said.
"I'm not the girl I expected either."
She closed her eyes.
The emails were scheduled. The evidence was uploaded. The flash drive was tucked into Danny's backpack, ready to be mailed to the state attorney general as a backup.
In three hours, the world was going to wake up and see Davis for what he really was.
But for now—for this one moment—she was just a girl on a mattress in a shithole apartment, and she was okay.
She was more than okay.
She was alive.
She slept.
She slept. Not deeply—just a thin, restless doze that left her hovering somewhere between consciousness and dreaming. The mattress springs creaked beneath her every time she shifted. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, flickering against her closed eyelids like a strobe.
She was half-aware of Danny moving around the room. The soft click of the laptop closing. The rustle of his jacket as he pulled it off. The creak of the floorboards as he crossed to the mattress.
She didn't open her eyes.
He sat down beside her. Not on top of her—just beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body. He smelled like coffee and sweat and something sharper underneath, like he hadn't showered in days.
For a long moment, he didn't move.
Then his hand found her knee.
She kept her eyes closed. Kept her breathing steady. But her pulse jumped—a quick, traitorous flutter in her throat.
His fingers slid up her thigh. Slow. Tentative. Like he was waiting for her to stop him.
She didn't.
He pushed the blanket down. Just an inch. Just enough to expose her hip. His thumb traced the edge of her underwear—plain cotton, nothing special—and then slipped underneath.
She felt his fingers brush against her cunt.
Not inside. Not yet. Just a light, exploratory touch, sliding through the wet that had gathered there while she slept.
Her breath caught.
Danny went still.
"Hailey."
She opened her eyes.
He was watching her. His face was half in shadow, the fluorescent light catching the hard line of his jaw. His eyes were dark. Unreadable.
"You're awake," he said.
"Yeah."
"You want me to stop?"
She should have said yes. She barely knew this man. He'd recruited her for a suicide mission. He'd listened while she got fucked by a psychopath. He'd watched her walk out the door an hour ago and come back with fresh scratches on her neck.
But her body wasn't listening to her brain.
"No," she said.
His fingers moved. Sliding deeper. Parting her folds. Finding her clit with a precision that made her hips jerk off the mattress.
"Fuck," she whispered.
He didn't say anything. Just kept touching her—slow circles, steady pressure. His thumb on her clit, his middle finger dipping lower, teasing her entrance without pushing inside.
She was already so wet. She could feel it slicking his fingers, soaking through her underwear. Her nipples were hard under the thin cotton of her bra. Her thighs were trembling.
"Has anyone ever told you," Danny said, his voice low and rough, "that you're fucking insane?"
"Once or twice."
"You went back to that gym. You fucked him again. You kneed him in the balls and left him on the floor."
"Yeah."
"Why?"
She didn't answer. Just reached down and grabbed his wrist. Pushed his hand harder against her cunt.
"Less talking," she said. "More of this."
Danny pulled his hand away.
She almost protested. Almost grabbed him and pulled him back. But then he was moving—shifting down the mattress, positioning himself between her legs.
He hooked his fingers into her underwear and pulled it down. She lifted her hips to help. Kicked them off. They landed somewhere in the dark.
Then his mouth was on her.
He didn't tease. Didn't start slow. His tongue flattened against her cunt and licked—one long, filthy stroke from her entrance to her clit. She gasped. Her hands flew to his head, fingers tangling in his short hair.
He did it again. And again. Lapping at her like she was the first meal he'd had in weeks.
"Fuck, Danny—"
He hummed against her. The vibration shot through her clit like electricity. Her back arched off the mattress.
Across the room, something moved.
Hailey's eyes flew open.
Maya was sitting up on the other side of the mattress. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders. Her eyes were half-lidded, watching them with an expression that Hailey couldn't quite read.
She should have been embarrassed. Should have pulled the blanket up. Should have told Danny to stop.
Instead, she just stared.
Maya stared back.
Then Maya crawled toward them.
She moved on her hands and knees, slow and deliberate, like a cat approaching something it wanted to eat. Her tank top was riding up. Her nipples were visible through the thin fabric.
She stopped beside Hailey's head.
"You're pretty," Maya said.
It wasn't a compliment. It was just a fact. The way you'd say the sky is blue or the world is burning.
"You're watching," Hailey said.
"I've been watching for a while."
Danny's tongue did something clever and Hailey's train of thought derailed completely. She groaned. Her fingers tightened in his hair.
Maya reached out. Touched Hailey's cheek.
Her hand was cool. Dry. Completely different from Danny's rough fingers and eager mouth. She traced the line of Hailey's jaw, then slipped her thumb between Hailey's lips.
Without thinking, Hailey sucked.
Maya's breath hitched.
"Fuck," she whispered.
Hailey looked up at her. Maya's pupils were blown wide. Her lips were parted. She was unmistakably, visibly turned on.
Hailey reached up. Grabbed the hem of Maya's tank top. Pulled it over her head.
Maya's breasts were small and firm. Her nipples were dark and hard.
Hailey sat up. Danny paused, his mouth slick with her, watching as Hailey leaned forward and took Maya's nipple into her mouth.
Maya gasped. Her hands flew to Hailey's shoulders, nails digging in. She tasted like salt and sweat. Hailey sucked harder, flicking her tongue over the hard peak, and Maya moaned—a raw, desperate sound that went straight to Hailey's cunt.
Behind her, Danny sat up. She felt his hands on her hips. Felt him positioning himself behind her.
"Keep going," he said.
Hailey didn't need to be told.
She pushed Maya back onto the mattress. Covered her body with her own. Kissed her—messy, sloppy, open-mouthed. Their tongues slid together. Maya's hands roamed Hailey's back, her ass, her thighs.
Danny pressed against Hailey from behind. His cock was hard against her ass. He reached down, guided himself to her entrance.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
He pushed inside.
She gasped into Maya's mouth. He was thick—not as thick as Mack, but longer, filling her in a way that made her feel every inch of him. He moved slowly at first. Measured. Like he was savoring it. Like he knew what he was doing.
"Fuck," he breathed. "You feel—fuck."
Hailey dropped her head to Maya's shoulder. Bit down on the smooth skin there. Maya whimpered.
Danny started moving faster. Harder. His hips slapping against her ass. The mattress creaked beneath them.
Hailey reached down. Found Maya's cunt. Slid her fingers through the wet heat there.
Maya cried out—a sharp, surprised sound.
"You like that?" Hailey asked.
"Yes—don't stop—"
Hailey pushed two fingers inside. Maya arched off the mattress. Her hands fisted in the sheets. Her mouth fell open.
Hailey fucked her with her fingers while Danny fucked her from behind. The rhythm was messy, off-kilter, but neither of them cared. Danny was grunting. Maya was moaning. Hailey was somewhere in between—lost in sensation, in the taste of Maya's skin and the smell of sex and the feeling of being filled.
"I'm close," Danny said.
Hailey clenched around him.
"Fuck—"
He shuddered. His hips stuttered. She felt him spill inside her—hot, pulsing.
Maya came a moment later. Her inner walls clenched around Hailey's fingers. Her back arched. A string of curses fell from her lips.
Then they collapsed.
Danny pulled out. Rolled onto his back. Maya curled into a ball, panting.
Hailey lay between them. Staring at the ceiling.
The fluorescent light flickered.
Somewhere in the distance, sirens.
She should have felt guilty. Should have felt ashamed. She had a boyfriend—even if that boyfriend had sold her out. She had a mission—even if that mission was already scheduled and uploaded.
But all she felt was empty.
Not in a bad way. In a clean way. Like she'd been scraped out and rinsed. Like she was finally ready for whatever came next.
Maya's hand found hers.
"Hey," she said.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
Hailey turned her head. Maya was looking at her. Her eyes were soft now. Vulnerable.
"For what?"
"For coming back. For helping us. For—" She gestured vaguely at the space between them. "This."
Hailey didn't know what to say.
So she just squeezed Maya's hand.
And closed her eyes.
When she woke again, it was 5:45 a.m.
The laptop was open. Danny was at the desk, watching the screen.
Maya was gone. The mattress was empty.
Hailey sat up. Her body ached—her cunt, her ass, her thighs. But it was a good ache. A satisfying one.
"Where's Maya?"
"Outside." Danny didn't look at her. "Getting the car ready."
"The car?"
"We can't stay here. Davis has connections. Once the emails hit, he'll know it was us. We need to be gone before he can retaliate."
Hailey swung her legs off the mattress. Stood up. Pulled on her dress—the same torn dress from last night.
"The emails," she said.
"Five minutes."
She walked to the laptop. Looked at the screen.
The list of recipients was endless. Every major news outlet. The FBI. The state attorney general. The university's board of trustees. Davis's boss. Davis's mother.
"You're sending it to his mother?"
"She deserves to know what kind of son she raised."
Hailey didn't argue.
Danny stood up. Grabbed the duffel bag. Slinged it over his shoulder.
"You should come with us," he said. "We have a place. Up north. It's not much, but it's safe."
She thought about it.
She thought about Logan. About the way he'd looked at her from that desk. About the sound of his voice on the recording—"I'll handle her."
She thought about Davis. About the things he'd done to her. About the things he'd done to Danny's sister.
"No," she said.
Danny blinked. "No?"
"I'm not running."
"Hailey—"
"I'm staying. I want to see his face when he goes down."
Danny stared at her for a long moment. Then he shook his head.
"You really are insane."
She smiled. It felt good—the first real smile in days.
"Maybe."
The clock hit 6:00 a.m.
Danny hit enter.
The emails went out.
Somewhere across town, forty-three news outlets received a folder full of evidence. Somewhere else, the university's legal team got a wake-up call they'd never forget. And in a cramped office on the third floor of the athletic building, a man named Davis was about to have the worst morning of his life.
Hailey walked to the door.
"Where are you going?"
"To watch."
The sun was coming up. The sky was turning gray and gold. The air was cold and clean and full of possibility.
She got in her car. Drove toward campus.
The hunt was over. The killing had begun.