Chapter 3: Kael
She shouldn’t be here.
Wren Harper shouldn’t be in my training facility, in my locker room, in my team’s orbit.She definitely shouldn’t be standing so close that I can smell the faint sweetness of her shampoo or hear the quickness of her breathing when she’s flustered.
She’s too small.Too soft.Too breakable.
And yet—
Two minutes ago, I watched her step onto the ice like she owned the place and shut down Atlas Ward mid-fight.
Atlas Ward.
A man who once broke another player’s nose during warm-up because the guy looked at him wrong.
She told him to sit.
He sat.
I’m still trying to understand it.
Wren walks beside me toward the corner of the locker room where Atlas sits, shoulders slumped, head tipped back against the brick wall.He looks...lost.Empty.
I tense.
Atlas’s blank-eyed moods are dangerous.Unpredictable.And the only person in this building who might be able to snap him out of it is now walking straight into the line of fire.
“Atlas?”she says gently.
His eyes lift—stormy, chaotic—and lock onto her.
Something changes in them.Sharpens.Focuses.
I step closer.
He drags in a breath.“He grabbed my stick.”
“That’s why you tried to break his face?”she asks.
“He grabbed my stick,” Atlas repeats, as if that explains everything.
Wren kneels in front of him, gloved hands resting lightly on her thighs.“Let me see.”
He hesitates.Then slowly—too slowly—extends his hand.
