“She will.”
They didn’t respond. Not really. Not with words.
Their laughter returned again—forced, unsure. But it didn’t matter. I didn’t need their approval.
I had what I came for.
The blood on my knuckles. The silence in Petrov’s eyes. And the way Mina watched me from the stands—unblinking.
This was only round one.
And I didn't lose.
Chapter 3
Mina
I leaned against the cold, gray wall outside the visitor’s locker room, arms crossed tight like I could physically hold my nerves in place. My phone buzzed earlier with “We need to talk.” Classic Mikel. Dramatic, vague, and two games too late.
I shouldn’t have come. I knew I shouldn’t have. But curiosity and something that felt dangerously like concern had dragged me here.
The door swung open hard, and Mikel stepped out.
I sucked in a breath.
He looked wrecked—lip split, fresh bruises coloring his face, his hair a mess like he’d fought a war and lost. But what hit me hardest wasn’t the blood.
It was the rage. I could feel it radiating off him like heat.
“Mina,” he snapped the second he saw me. His eyes narrowed, wild. “What are you doing here?”
I tried to sound calm. Rational. Like this wasn’t a disaster unraveling at light speed. “You texted me. You said you wanted to talk.”
He shoved his hand through his hair and scoffed like that was some ridiculous detail I’d made up. “This is all your fault.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
He waved his hand like the air was somehow to blame. “That stupid bet. You—smiling at Volkov. Laughing with him. You made it easy for him to get in my head.”
That snapped something in me. “I made it easy?” I pushed off the wall, heart hammering. “You’re the one who made the damn bet, Mikel. You turned me into a punchline.”
He glared, jaw clenched, fists balling at his sides. “You don’t get it. None of that matters now. What matters is you’re not backing me up.”
My mouth dropped open. “Backing you up?” I laughed—loud and incredulous. “You literally bet me. Like a puppy. Or a car. You humiliated me.”
“Oh, come on,” he spat. “You think this league is built on respect? It’s all just bravado and noise.”
“So you figured you’d just toss me in like extra noise?” My voice cracked as the anger swelled up behind my ribs. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t agree to be part of your little ego contest.”
He stepped closer. Too close.
That familiar heat in his eyes used to pull me in. Now it felt like pressure on my throat.
“You think I wanted this?” he hissed. “You think I wanted to get knocked out because of you?”
I shook my head, stunned. “Because of me? No, Mikel. You got punched because of you. You made this mess, not me.”
The air between us pulsed—hot and tight and horrible. He didn’t move. Just stared like he didn’t recognize the girl standing in front of him anymore.
