“And then we end them.”
Chapter 9: Atlas
She looks differenttoday.
Not physically.
Physically, she still looks like the softest thing that’s ever walked into this godforsaken building—too pretty, too delicate, too breakable.
But her eyes?
Her eyes are wrong.
Wren Harper walks out of the training room with that careful, empty expression people get when they’re trying not to drown, and it hits me low and hard in a way I don’t fucking like.
Or understand.
I should be getting ready for practice.
I should be wrapping my sticks, tightening my laces, thinking about the guy I’m supposed to slam into the boards tonight.
Instead, I’m watching her.
Watching the way she moves like someone punched the air out of her.
Watching how she doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes.
Watching the way Finn’s smile fades the second she brushes past him.
He looks at me.
I look back.
We don’t need words.
We both know something happened.
