Broken Hands

108. Senior Smith

The plan had to be seamless. No Julian. Grayson was sure about that. His younger cousin had just gotten out of surgery, and the last thing Grayson wanted was for Julian to run into anxiety if things went south or get hurt. Julian was like a little prince—clueless and protected. Getting him involved would be a price too hard to pay when Damien would find out, which was a 99.9% chance that he would. Grayson wasn't about to drag his younger cousin into trouble because of him.

Damian said NO.

And Grayson said YES.

He was clearly defying and rebelling but who cares?!

Russell, on the other hand, was a different story, the boy was rooting for this plan, probably the opportunity he's been waiting to break his father's rules so he could have a story to tell his kids. He'd just gotten his license, and though it was a 22-hour drive to the tournament, he was confident he could handle it. The plan was simple: disable their trackers and attach them to something with constant movement—maybe a stray dog or even the butlers. That way, Damien wouldn't grow suspicious right away. They'd slip away, make it to the tournament, and return before anyone could put the pieces together.

Savanna and Grace were in on it too, adding to the excitement. It wasn't just a mission—it was an adventure.

"We'll call Julian's mom," Russell explained, brushing dirt off his hands. "Convince her to spend the day with him so he doesn't find out, and so he is not lonely. That way, we won't feel guilty leaving him behind."

Grayson nodded absentmindedly, his focus already on the race. This was his moment. His chance to prove Damien wrong—to prove that PTSD didn't define him.

Across the field, Julian's laughter rang out as he sprinted ahead of Raymond, holding a stolen soccer ball over his head like a trophy. Raymond chased after him, his movements surprisingly quick for someone who lived off junk food and avoided sports.

He eventually got to Julian and stolen the ball.

"Let's go!" Russell urged, and Grayson followed as the trio joined the chase.

Raymond ducked and weaved, dodging Russell's attempt to tackle him with a move that sent Russell sprawling to the ground.

"Damn!" Russell yelled between laughs. "How's he so fast?!"

Grayson skidded to a stop. "If Russell's down, we're doomed. He's the athlete here!"

Julian, out of breath, collapsed dramatically on the grass.

"Bunch of toddlers!" Raymond taunted, hopping in triumph with the stolen ball.

Out of nowhere, a broad-shouldered man tackled Raymond to the ground, snatched the ball, and tossed it to Julian, who caught it mid-air with an admiring grin.

Raymond groaned, rolling on his back. "Get off me, Baron!"

The man—Baron—stood and extended a hand to help Raymond up, a smug grin plastered across his face. His muscular frame and long brown hair gave him an intimidating air, but his playful demeanor softened the edges.

"Long time, cousin," Baron said, clapping Raymond on the back.

Raymond dusted himself off, muttering, "You're still a jerk." He turned to the boys. "Sons, meet Baron—my dear cousin." The sarcasm was heavy, and Grayson caught the faintest twitch of a smirk on Russell's face.

Julian waved enthusiastically. "Nice to meet you, Baron!"

Russell offered a polite nod, while Grayson remained quiet, his eyes narrowing slightly. He'd never seen the man before.