My hand clenched on the blanket. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” He opened the folder. “And I have documentation.”
My stomach twisted. “Father—”
“You need to understand the seriousness of what occurred,” he said, calm as ever, as though he didn’t know I could barely breathe. “Your temperature spiked during play. Dramatically. Enough that the ice in your vicinity began to soften.”
My heart missed a beat. No. I would have felt that. I would have—
“You’re concussed,” he said as if that bored him. “Your recollection isn’t reliable.”
He slipped a sheet from the folder and held it up.
INCIDENT REPORT — PLAYER INJURY At 19:42 of the second period, player #78 (rookie forward) encountered an unexpected destabilization of the ice surface due to localized thermal variance. Player lost edge control and collided with the boards at high speed.
My vision blinked in and out.
A rookie. Opposing team. Barely older than Phoenix.
“No,” I whispered. “No, that can’t be…” The ice was fine. I’d have remembered.
My father sighed. “Apparently, they’re understandably upset. The boy was unconscious for several seconds. They’re running scans to rule out spinal injury.”
My stomach lurched so hard I thought I might throw up.
“I didn’t—” My voice cracked. “I don’t even remember the play—”
“That is exactly why we’re doing this,” he said, steering the conversation with the precision of a surgeon. “You don’t remember because you were losing control. The heat was radiating off you moments before the hit. You were melting the ice beneath your skates, Cole.”
My fingers dug into the sheet.Melting the ice.
Like the nightmare from childhood. Like the crack of plaster and smoke. Like screams I still heard sometimes when I closed my eyes. He watched the panic bloom across my face.
My father never yelled. He didn’t need to. “We’re fortunate the damage wasn’t worse,” he continued. “You could have severely injured the other team. Your own teammates. Officials. Imagine the scandal if the world found out—”
“Stop.” My voice was barely there.
“—that the league’s most valuable forward is a monster on the verge of a flare.”
“I’m not—”
“You are,” he said sharply. “You are precisely that. A killer that must be contained for the safety of everyone around you. Including yourself.”
Monster. Killer.
I shut my eyes. But the guilt on the report still burned against the back of my eyelids.
Rookie. Injury.My fault.
Cold sliced through me. The dragon inside me surged. A spark of bright, instinctive fury. For a second, the edges of my vision shimmered with heat.
My father stepped back, satisfied. “Yes,” he murmured. “There it is. That volatility. Exactly why we need to proceed.”
“Proceed with what?” My heartbeat thundered. “What did you do? Why am I here?”
Father exhaled, as if I were the one being unreasonable. “Your condition requires specialized handling. You are fortunate I arrived when I did.”
“You had me taken,” I said, breathless. “Without the team. Without—I didn’t consent.”
