I stilled, my mouth hanging open. “I… of course, you—”
“I don’t.” He cut me off with a stern shake of his head, his hands still holding me to him. “Ari, I don’t fucking care. Whatever knots he has you tied in, I’ll untangle them. If he loses his shit and fires me, so be it.”
For twenty years, I’d carried a truth I never questioned: that hockey had always come first for Shane. That loving me had been real, but temporary. That when forced to choose, he’d chosen the game, the grind, the future he could see — and left me behind because I hadn’t fit into it.
I’d made peace with that. Or told myself I had.
But since discovering there was more to it than that, since I realized he left because he truly felt it was the best thing forme, it had me questioning that truth I’d held onto for so long.
And hearing this now — feeling the way his hands tightened on me, like he was afraid I might disappear if he loosened his grip — it was a balm pressed to a wound I’d learned to live with. Something inside me ached, sharp and tender all at once, like scar tissue that would always be there, but was finally fading enough for me to heal.
“Shane…” I said his name breathlessly, disbelief heavy in my exhale.
“None of it matters. Do you hear me?” He bent his forehead to mine, kissing me long and hard before repeating himself. “None of it matters more than you. It never has. I made a mistake twenty years ago. I walked away because I thought it was the right thing to do, but I was wrong. You are the only thing right in my life. You are what matters most. And now that I have you back, I will fight with everything I have left in me to keep you. Okay? I will go to war. I will burn it all down. I will die for your happiness and safety if that’s what it takes.”
Grace peeked inside the curtain. “I’m sorry, but we’re running out of time. He’s on the hunt. Maven went to distract him with Vince but…” She tapped her wrist before closing the curtain.
My heart leaped into my throat again, this time beating so hard I thought I might pass out.
Shane saw the fear in my eyes and took a deep breath, steadying me with his exhale as he framed my face again. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I need you to trust me. Okay? Everything is going to be all right. I have a plan.”
“A plan?”
He nodded, and then with a cleared throat from outside the curtain, he cursed, kissing me urgently.
“We can’t talk tonight. Go home. Do what you have to do to survive. I’ll get a message to you tomorrow.”
“How?”
“Just trust me,” he said, and then with one final kiss, he was ushering me out of the booth with reluctance pulsing through his hands into mine. “And Ari?”
I turned, glancing over my shoulder before I drew the curtain open.
“If anything happens tonight, if you need me… don’t hesitate. Call me. I mean it. We all mean it when we say we’re in this with you. Just call, and I’ll come. You don’t even have to say a word. I’ll know.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured him. “He has me under his thumb, so he’s not threatened.” I shrugged at that, a pathetic smile on my lips. “He’s won and he knows it.”
Shane’s nostrils flared.
“He thinks he’s won,” he corrected. “But we’ve got a Trojan horse, Ari. We just need him to open the gates.”
A Risk Worth Taking
Ariana
Present
Two days after the gala, while Nathan was out of town on business, Shane and Maven planned my escape.
Maven arrived just after dusk, her presence intentional and visible, her car parked squarely in the driveway beneath the cameras Nathan had installed to keep the world out and me in. We ordered takeout, poured wine, and talked loudly about nothing in particular. At one point, she posted a photo to her story, the two of us leaning together and giggling as we held up forkfuls of Thai noodles. It set the stage perfectly, leaving digital footprints to prove I was in the house and nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
When we were sprawled out on the couch watching Bravo, she covertly passed me a burner phone hidden in a colorful box that should have housed macarons. It did have one macaroon in there, and I plucked it out and ate it to hold up the charade as Maven smiled mischievously at me. I turned my attention back to the TV, but read the note on the phone.
It was directions — how to set it up to forward calls and texts from my real one to it. And then there was one instruction loud and clear at the bottom.
Leave your phone here.
Maven left a little before ten, giving me a big hug right in the camera’s line of sight. I stayed behind and followed my usual routine, careful not to rush it. When I was in the bathroom, I set up the burner phone and tucked it into the back waistband of my pajamas. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and plugged my phone into the charger on my nightstand after sending a goodnight text to Nathan — all with my heart thudding in my throat.
