Until the door closes.
Until she’s out of sight.
Only then do I pull out my phone and text the group thread:
Kael: Inside.Safe.I’ll wait outside until she finishes.
Finn responds first.
Atlas responds second.
But it’s Wren’s message that hits me hardest.
Wren: Thank you.
I stare at the screen, feeling the weight of the morning settle into something sharper, stronger, more dangerous.
Adrian Frost doesn’t get another inch of her.
Not while I’m breathing.
Chapter 35: Wren
There’s nothing likea pro arena on game night.
The air changes before the doors even open—charged, humming, alive.The kind of electricity that lifts the tiny hairs on your arms and makes your chest buzz like you swallowed a live wire.My badge feels heavier around my neck, not like a credential, but like a permission slip I still can’t believe I earned.
Concrete vibrates beneath my boots as I step out of the tunnel for the first time, the rink opening in front of me like a world I’ve only ever seen from TV angles.The music thunders, lights sweeping the ice, kids waving signs above the glass.The sounds swirl together—laughter, shouts, whistles, the thunk of pucks hitting end boards.
I should be nervous.
I’m not.
Or maybe I am and it just feels good for once.
The guys are already on the ice, gliding through warmups.Finn catches my eye first—of course he does.His grin flashes bright beneath his visor as he races toward the glass, stopping short so the spray of ice dusts the boards in front of me.He taps his stick twice.A hello.A promise.
