I slid into the bathroom and quickly closed myself off in one of the stalls. Locking the latch, I leaned my head back against cold metal until the edges of the world stopped spinning. I breathed in—three quick, shallow breaths—then out, forcing a slow even push of air that wasn’t there. My ribs felt like they were closing in. I thought about calling Drew or smashing the first mirror in my path. I even thought about the stupid star charm I’d kept in my bag and how heavy it had been the night she left me with it.
I couldn’t crumble. I would not hand her that power again. I’d had to learn how to make the pain useful—turn it into ice, into focus. But none of that stopped me from remembering that rooftop and her telling me to fight for the future I wanted.
By the third set of inhales, I could feel the edge of the panic dull. The tremor stayed, a low engine vibrating under my skin, but the world was righted enough to function. I unlocked the stall and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. A vein in my temple visibly throbbed. I scrubbed water over my face, slammed the faucet off, and smiled at myself in the mirror—almost feral.
When I headed back out into the hallway, I carried anger like a shield. Panic had been private and useless; anger could be wielded. I let the heat harden into something that would look like motive to anyone watching. Jax threw me a look—questioning, not accusing. I shrugged like nothing was wrong.
The panic had been a hole I could step around. Anger was a weapon I could drag across everything that stood between me and an answer.
My hands curled into fists at my sides. I forced them to relax. Forced my face blank.
She wasn’t supposed to be here. Her silence meant she was never coming back. But there she was—walking my halls as if she belonged and hadn’t shattered me into pieces and ghosted like I was just another mark.
I couldn’t think past the roaring inside my head. She was back. And she looked exactly the same. Like she’d never left. As if the last year of wreckage meant nothing to her.
And suddenly—brutally—I was back on that rooftop with her.
It had been past midnight, the town stretched out in lights and shadows below us. She’d sat between my legs, back against my chest, wrapped in one of my sweatshirts three sizes too big.Her fingers played with mine, slow and distracted, as if she already knew what I was going to say.
“I don’t want to take over King Enterprises.”
She didn’t react. Not immediately. Just squeezed my hand, grounding me.
“I know,” she whispered.
I let out a breath. One I’d been holding since I was old enough to understand what my last name meant. “He’s already decided. Has the board groomed to welcome me the second I turn twenty-two. Summer internships. Dinner meetings. The way he talks, it’s as if it’s already done. I don’t get a choice, despite my brother being the firstborn.”
“And hockey?” she asked, voice small.
“That’s mine,” I growled. “The only thing that’s mine.”
She twisted in my arms until she was facing me, her expression open and raw. “So fight for it.”
“He’ll cut me off.” But that wasn’t the real problem. My dad and his circle didn’t just control—they owned, ruled through blackmail, bribes, and a full arsenal of quiet threats dressed in tailored suits. If they wanted a business, they took it. People either fled or got hurt.
“Let him.” She shrugged as if it was that easy. “You’ll find another way.”
“And if I fail?”
She smiled then. Soft and fierce and terrifying. “Then you’ll fail knowing it was your choice. Not his.”
I stared at her, this girl who came from nothing and had more courage in her pinky for her future than I’d ever been allowed to show. Her reaction settled something in me—she didn’t care about my legacy, about money. It was me that mattered to her. Her eyes were lit up with belief—in me.As though I could take down empires with a stick and a dream.
I leaned in and kissed her—slow, reverent. Like maybe she was the only real thing in my life.
“Stay with me,” I’d whispered into her skin. “Don’t ever leave.”
Her answer had been yes. Over and over, in kisses and sighs and the way she fit against me as if she’d been built to.
Now, that same girl was walking down my hallway like none of it had happened. I stepped forward before I even realized I was moving. “You’ve got to be kidding me,”I muttered.
She didn’t hear it. Didn’t see me yet. But she would.
She turned the corner, vanishing into the crowd again before I could get closer. It didn’t matter. This wasn’t over. Not even close.
If she thought she could walk back into Blackwood as if the past didn’t exist, like she hadn’t carved me open and left me bleeding, she was dead wrong.
I was done playing nice. First stop: the front office. It took ten minutes and a look at the receptionist that dared her to challenge me. Mila’s schedule.
