Through the gate.
Onto the ice in my cleats, slipping hard but never stopping.
“Atlas!”I shout, heart slamming against my ribs.“Move—come on—Atlas, look at me!”
Everything slows.
The scraping of skates stops.
Voices fade out.
I drop to my knees beside him, hands already on his helmet to keep him still.
His eyes are shut.
Ice seeps through my pants.
My breath fogs the air between us.
“Atlas,” I say again, softer.“Hey.Hey, open your eyes.Come on.”
A groan.
His eyelids flutter.
Finally, his gaze drags up to me—unfocused, pained, but alive.
“Wren,” he mutters.
Relief crashes through me so hard my vision blurs.
“Don’t move,” I warn.“You slammed into the boards.Just stay still.”
He tries to shift anyway and grits a curse through his teeth.
Kael skates to us in seconds, dropping down beside me with terrifying intensity.“Is he out?”
“No,” I say.“But he’s hurt.”
Finn arrives next, breathless.“Atlas, man—what the hell—”
“Everybody back up,” I snap before I even think.“Give him space.”
Kael immediately listens.
Finn backs off too.
Atlas...stares at me like I’m the only person on the rink.
Coach shouts something about clearing the ice, but I’m already checking Atlas’s ribs, his shoulder, the range of motion he absolutely shouldn’t test right now.
“On my count,” I say.“One...two...three.”
Kael and Finn help lift him carefully.Atlas is swearing under his breath the whole time, leaning more on Kael than he probably realizes.
I walk backward in front of them, watching every hitch in his breathing.
Atlas watches me just as closely.
