Adrenaline raced through my veins. I bared my teeth at my opponents. Demolish. Dismantle. Destroy. The blood pounded in my ears like a metal concert.

A deep breath and I snapped, rushing forward and colliding with the bodies in front of me. I’d destroy anything in my way to gain as many yards as it took to complete our play and clear the path for Bennet’s throw.

The ball landed in the hands of Knox, already in the end zone. Overhead, the scoreboard clock ticked down. The final seconds disappeared from the game clock. We’d done it.

I stared down at the prone bodies of the assholes who’d thought for a second they could make it past me. For that reason alone, I wanted to rip their damn heads off. I loomed over them, chest heaving.

Trumpets blared. A body knocked into mine. I flung my elbow cracking it into the thick pad.

“Fuck, Dare. It’s me. Your teammate.” Bennet shoved my shoulder.

Standing in the center of the field, I closed my eyes and steadied my breath, letting the hammering rush bring me back to my own head where I wasn’t all instincts teetering on the brutal edge of control.

“What did I tell you about tackling me after a play?”

“So fucking moody.” Bennet glared, walking to the sidelines.

I braced my hands on my hips, letting everyone else pile on one another at the sidelines. The crush of bodies and hits outside of the called plays sent a skitter of unease up my spine. I needed space, especially after a game like today’s, brutal and hard-won. It took me time to come down from the impulse to destroy.

Knox jogged up to me. There was an uneasiness in his stance, poised and ready to get out of the way.

I sucked in a breath. That he even thought I’d go after him—it curdled my stomach. “Good catch, man.”

His shoulders relaxed and he yanked off his helmet. “You think anyone’s scouting this late in the season?” He stared up into the stands.

“At this point, does it matter?” If they were, I hadn’t heard a word from them. The sniffs had gone stale long ago for me. It was stupid to even get my hopes up.

“There can always be a better offer.” He grinned and dropped his gloves into his helmet.

We left the field and headed into the locker room. It wasn’t so much a locker room as a holding pen for our gear and duffels. No place to shower and barely enough room to change. The locker rooms at the college I’d visited were palatial compared to this. Their own gyms, saunas, support teams, cafeterias.

Freedom.

Too bad I wouldn’t get to experience it.

We boarded the bus to head back to Greenwood, still sweaty and drained.

A hand landed on my shoulder. “You going out after this?” Knox leaned over the back of my seat.

“You seriously have energy after the game we played?”