Running with Foxes

Elena's breath came in ragged gasps as she ran, each footfall a desperate attempt to outpace the morning's email from Marcus—that slick, smiling fox of a man who'd spent three months systematically dismantling her division while buying her drinks and promising her career was "safe."

The phone in her pocket buzzed again. She ignored it.

She found herself at the padel court where she'd first agreed to the merger, where Marcus's partner—hulking, quiet Bear—had watched them play with those dark, knowing eyes that had made her skin prickle. Bear had seen something she hadn't. He'd nodded once, almost imperceptibly, when she'd signed away her team's future.

Now she understood. Bear had been watching a predator toy with its prey.

The court was empty. Elena leaned against the wire fence, chest heaving, and finally checked her phone. The message wasn't from Marcus. It was from Bear: *I have the original contract. The one without the amended clause. Meet me at the court at dawn.*

A fox's cunning. A bear's strength. And her, running nowhere at all.

But not anymore.

Elena straightened up, wiped sweat from her eyes, and began to walk back toward the city. Tomorrow at dawn, she'd be waiting with her own game to play.