The game ended in a storm of cheers and happy chaos. The Serpents had won, and the energy in the room was electric—high-fives, shouts, laughter bouncing off the walls like confetti. I couldn’t stop smiling. I’d barely known these women for a few hours, but somehow I felt like I’d been a part of their circle for much longer. We screamed when Nikolai landed that insane check, groaned in unison when a goal got waved off, and did a full-on celebration dance when the game finally ended in our favor.
At the door, I hugged Paige goodbye, still laughing over a running joke about Weston’s “game-day superstition” involving gummy bears and a lucky sock.
“I’ll loop you into the group chat,” she said, squeezing me tight. “We’re doing dinner next week—don’t even think about ghosting.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” I grinned, hugging her back. “Thank you. Seriously.”
I floated down the steps and out to my car, the night air cool and crisp against my flushed cheeks. My heart felt full—like I’d just stepped out of a romcom montage, minus the dramatic string music. I climbed into the driver’s seat, the smell of popcorn still lingering faintly on my sweater, and turned the key in the ignition. The soft hum of the engine filled the quiet, and I found myself humming along with the radio as I pulled away from the curb.
The city lights blurred past my window in soft golden smears, and for once, I didn’t mind the silence. My cheeks still ached from smiling, and my stomach felt warm and fizzy—not from the snacks, but from the way it all came together tonight. The laughter. The connection. The feeling that maybe, just maybe, I was starting to find my place in all this.
I didn’t think about Mikel once during the second half—not even when Nikolai landed that brutal hit that had everyone out of their seats. I didn’t question whether I fit in. I didn’t second-guess my laugh, or the way I talked, or how I looked in the hoodie swallowing me whole. I was just… me. And they welcomed me anyway.
I drummed my fingers lightly on the steering wheel, a happy rhythm that matched the beat in my chest. I wasn’t just surviving anymore. Tonight, I was part of something—and it felt really, really good.
I parked the car in front of the house; the engine rumbling to a stop. The streetlights cast a soft glow over everything, but my heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. I replayed the night in my mind—the laughter, the connection with the other women—it was like stepping into a new skin. Nikolai would be proud of me for pushing through that initial awkwardness, for letting myself be seen.
But as I unlocked the door and stepped inside, an unsettling weight settled on my shoulders. The air felt different—thicker, quieter. I paused at the threshold, taking a breath that seemed to stick in my throat.
Something’s off.
I rounded the corner into the kitchen, expecting to find it just as I’d left it—a bit messy but warm and inviting. Instead, my breath hitched in my chest as I froze.
Mikel sat at my table like he belonged there—like he’d never left. His familiar silhouette loomed against the dim light filtering through the window. The smug smirk on his face twisted something inside me.
His posture was deceptively relaxed—hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly like he owned the space. His dark hair was still perfectly in place, jaw clenched just enough to betray tension beneath the easy smile he wore. The sight of him made my pulse stutter, an involuntary flicker of fear that curled in my stomach like smoke. It wasn’t just his presence—it was the familiarity of it, the quiet threat in his gaze, the memory of how quickly charm could shift into cruelty. One look at him, and my body remembered what my heart tried so hard to forget.
“Hey, Min,” he said casually, leaning back in his chair with an air of practiced nonchalance. “We need to talk.”
The words crashed over me like a wave pulling me under—panic washed through every part of my body. My stomach dropped, leaving a hollow pit behind. I didn’t scream; I didn’t speak. I just stared at him.
He was here.
After all this time—after finally finding myself among friends and letting go of his grip on my life—he was back, grinning like nothing had changed.
I swallowed hard and tried to collect myself. “What are you doing here?” My voice came out steadier than I felt, but every nerve in my body was screaming at me to run back outside. "How did you get in?"
Mikel pushed himself up from the table slowly and took a step toward me, eyes glinting with an unsettling mix of confidence and something darker underneath—a threat? An invitation? It made me want to retreat further into myself.
“Just wanted to see how you were doing,” he said smoothly, each word dripped with false sweetness that set off alarm bells in my head. “Thought we could catch up, considering you're forced to stay here against your will.”
Catch up? The phrase sent a shiver down my spine as memories flooded back—the shouting matches that turned violent and hurtful words hurled like weapons; nights spent tiptoeing around his moods like walking on eggshells; being reduced to someone unworthy of respect or kindness. This wasn’t catching up; it was an invasion.
I stood my ground, every muscle tense, ready to act. “You need to leave, Mikel. Now.”
The alarm shrieked through the house like it had been torn open, piercing the silence with an unrelenting wail that rattled through my bones. My heart lurched, instinctively slamming into my chest as I spun toward the keypad, red lights flashing like a warning I hadn’t realized I needed until now.
"Dammit," Mikel muttered. "I thought I disabled it." He started cursing in Russian.
I fumbled for the code, fingers trembling too badly to hit the right buttons. The sound was deafening, swallowing every coherent thought, every ounce of calm I had fought to build since the moment I walked through that door.
Then my phone buzzed on the counter.
I turned toward it slowly, dread rising like a tidal wave. Nikolai’s name lit up the screen.
My hand hovered over it, hope and panic colliding inside me.
But Mikel moved first.
