The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback (Astra and Zayne) novel Chapter 175

10:35 Sat, Aug 8

The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback

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ASTRA

“Stop!”

The scream ripped out of me before I even realized I’d made a sound.

A metal chair lay overturned. One of the monitors had been knocked from the desk, its shattered screen spitting the occasional spark while coffee spread across the concrete, carrying shards of broken ceramic with

Silas had Landon pinned beneath him.

He straddled his waist, chest heaving, blond hair hanging over his face. His sweater had torn at one shoulder, the sleeve smeared with blood-some of it his own. A bruise had already darkened along his cheek where Landon’s fist had landed.

Landon looked worse.

Blood poured from a gash at his hairline, running down the side of his face before dripping onto the floor. Judging by the wound, Silas had struck him with the butt of the pistol more than once.

I fought the ropes with everything I had.

Silas grabbed Landon’s coat and slammed him back against the concrete.

“You arrogant bastard!” he screamed, spittle flying. “I gave you one chance!”

Landon grimaced, a strained breath escaping him, but he never cried out. Blood trickled into one eye. Even so, when he looked back at Silas, there wasn’t a trace of fear.

“You’ve mistaken revenge,” he rasped, “for justice.”

Whatever restraint Silas had left vanished.

“No!”

He raised the pistol again.

“Please!” I threw myself against the ropes so hard the chair skidded across the floor. The restraints cut deeper into my wrists, but I barely felt them. “Please don’t! Stop hurting him!”

Silas froze.

He looked at me.

His breathing was still uneven, yet when he spoke, his voice had softened into something almost unbearably gentle.

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10:35 Sat, Aug 8

The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback

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“Astra…” A pained smile touched his lips. “I’m sorry you’re seeing this.”

He meant it.

“As soon as he tells the truth…” His attention shifted back to Landon. “…this will all be over.”

Landon spat blood onto the floor.

“It won’t.”

Silas’s jaw tightened.

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“Why?” For the first time, he sounded as though he genuinely wanted an answer. “Why can’t you just admit what you did?”

Slowly, Landon lifted his head.

Even with the pistol aimed at him, he refused.

“I won’t confess,” he said, forcing the words past a mouthful of blood, “to something that isn’t true.”

Silas stared at him.

Then, with a roar that barely sounded human, he swung the pistol down.

Landon’s hand shot up, catching Silas’s wrist before the blow could land. For an instant they remained locked together, every muscle straining as the gun shook violently between them.

Then Landon wrenched his arm aside.

Silas shouted as his grip broke. The pistol flew free, skidding across the concrete and spinning to a stop near the overturned chair-still far too close for comfort, but no longer in his hand.

Landon didn’t hesitate. His fist drove into Silas’s jaw.

The blow threw Silas sideways. He hit the floor hard as Landon pushed himself upright, one hand braced against the concrete while blood continued to stream from the gash at his temple.

Silas scrambled back on his hands, breathing unevenly, panic flashing across his face.

“No…”

Landon swiped the blood from his eye with the back of his wrist and looked at him.

“I’m sorry I never realized how much you were struggling. I’m sorry no one stepped in before you reached this point. I’m sorry the system failed you long before it failed anyone else.”

He drew a slow breath.

“But I won’t apologize for removing a man who was no longer fit to do the job. It wasn’t done out of spite. It was the only responsible choice.”

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10:35 Sat, Aug 8

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The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback

Silas only stared.

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Whatever was holding him together gave way. His breathing turned ragged and a strangled sound escaped him as both hands came up to cover his face.

“You don’t get to be kind now,” he whispered. “You don’t get to sound human after all these years.”

Landon stayed where he was. He made no move toward the gun.

“I am human,” he said. “That was never the disagreement.”

Silas slowly lowered his hands. Tears had carved pale tracks through the blood and grime on his face.

Then, almost without thinking, his eyes shifted toward the pistol lying on the floor.

His gaze lingered there.

Then, slowly, he looked back at Landon.

For a single second, I thought-I actually thought-he was going to surrender. His shoulders sagged and the rage seemed to drain out of him so completely that only exhaustion remained.

“I gave twenty-two years,” he said quietly. His voice barely sounded like the same man’s anymore. “Twenty- two years…”

He laughed, a hollow sound.

“I missed birthdays. Anniversaries. School plays. I told myself it would all be worth it because I was building something that mattered.” His eyes lifted to Landon’s. “And then one signature…” He snapped his fingers. “… and I was nothing.”

Landon didn’t interrupt.

“When they fired me,” Silas continued, “I kept waking up at six every morning.” Another laugh escaped him. “I’d put on my tie. I’d drive halfway to the office before remembering… I didn’t work there anymore.”

The room fell silent. Even my own breathing felt too loud.

Landon spoke carefully. “You should have been helped.”

Silas gave a weary smile. “That’s the first true thing you’ve said tonight.”

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