A few girls drifted by, curiosity outweighing caution. Nods. Half-smiles. Quick, whispered shorthand passed between them—“You saw that. She’s not untouchable anymore.”
The morning passed in a blur, and suddenly it was lunch. The cafeteria was loud. The rumor mill buzzed. Elise sat at her usual table, alone this time except for Nina and Tori flanking her, but they didn’t speak. They didn’t laugh. The glow around them had dulled, except when Elise snapped at anyone nearby who dared to say anything—tight voice, flaring nostrils, commanding the whispers that barely reached past the rim of her table.
People were getting bold—maybe too bold. I didn’t trust that her power was completely gone. Elise was a snake. She didn’t need a crown to strike.
As the clock ticked down, I took note—who cheered too loud at her fall, and who, the ones seasoned in survival, kept their heads down and eyes sharp.
Later, as Avery and I sat with a cluster of second tiers and outliers, Elise passed. Her gaze swept the group, landing on me sharp as a blade. No one flinched, and I didn’t look away. Didn’t blink.
That was enough.
As we left the cafeteria, Avery spun to face me, voice low. “She’ll come back swinging. She always does.”
I nodded. “Let her.”
She hesitated. “Are you… glad? About her getting knocked down?”
I glanced at her. “I don’t care if she’s queen of this place or a cautionary tale. Long as she doesn’t touch us.” I adjusted my backpack strap. “If she does, someone’ll finish what got started today.”
Avery let out a short, delighted exhale and thumped the wall with her fist. I laughed—real, full, the kind that scraped something loose inside me.
Out of instinct, I glanced toward the lockers again. Toward him.
But as we moved toward class, I clocked it—not once had Luke looked at me during lunch. Not even a glance. Not when I walked in. Not when the room shifted around Elise.
We weren’t anything. But the kiss we shared sure as hell said otherwise, even if he wasn’t going to admit it. And yeah—it stung. Just a flicker, enough to feel.
I needed to stop thinking about it. About how his hand gripped my hip. About how I wanted to kiss him again. And it looked as though we weren’t going to. That was fine—sort of—as there were other things that needed to take precedence.
Because I couldn’t shake the feeling that Elise wasn’t finished. Her warning stuck like a sliver beneath skin. I reached for calm, for control. For intel. Had my mom found anything I could use if Elise came again? And if she had… would I share it with Luke in an attempt to heal the wrong I’d done him when I’d left before or keep it for when I needed it most?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
LUKE
The ice rink felt alive under the bright lights—electric, vibrant energy pulsing through the boards as we skated out for warm-ups. Fans hollered, bodies pressing against plexiglass, but I ignored them. My eyes tracked Mila in the stands—Avery sat next to her and her two other friends on either side.
Jax passed the plexiglass separating them from the ice and tapped it with his stick. Avery jumped. Jax smirked. Chase’s jaw clenched so tight a muscle pulsed near his ear. I nodded at him—keep it together. That was the message.
No personal shit tonight. We had a game to win.
By the time line changes were called, we were up by one.
Theo had slipped it past the goalie after I’d drawn the defense and threaded the puck clean through the gap. Textbook setup. Easy finish. The kind of play that reminded everyone exactly why we were ranked where we were.
The team we were up against didn’t rate—on paper or on ice, forecasting a clean win. But the real game wasn’t happening on the scoreboard. As I stepped off the ice to our bench, I zeroed in on Logan.
Third line, he sat hunched at the edge of the bench, waiting for his chance. When he finally got the call to take the ice, his stride was tight, caged frustration. He barely touched the puck, his play sloppy enough that Coach noticed.
A line change was called, and he skated back. On the bench, he muttered with a linemate, stiff-shouldered. But he kept glancing my way.
Chase muttered behind his mouthguard, “That wasn’t nerves. He’s plotting something.”
Jax leaned forward slightly, tracking Logan’s retreat to the bench. “Yeah. Eyes like that? He’s not done. Just waiting for the right time to strike.”
I didn’t respond, keeping my focus forward. Because I’d seen it too. And whatever Logan was plotting—it wasn’t over. I kept my expression unreadable.
Logan’s linemate caught the exchange and said something low as they hit the bench. Logan muttered back, stiff-shouldered, and didn’t look up again. Because he knew. Just from that one slipup, we’d taken note, and we weren’t done with him yet.
