"The fearless himbo," Hades added, "allergic to fun."
"Allergic to boring." I stood, stretched. Let the smile come easy. "You want bottle service and bad decisions, be my guest. I've got film to watch."
"Film. Right." James smirked. "That what we're calling her?"
The room went quiet for half a breath.
I met his eyes. Held them until his smirk faltered.
"There's no her," I said. Calm. Final. "There are playoffs in six weeks and half of you skating like you've got concrete in your shorts."
Laughter broke the tension.
I didn't need distraction.
I had focus.
And Belle Reiss had no idea she'd become it.
Practice ended the way it always did—coaches barking final notes, equipment clattering, bodies filtering toward showers and phones and whatever passed for their lives outside these walls.
I stayed. Let the noise drain away. Let silence settle over the rink like fresh snow over old tracks.
The ice looked clean from here. Unmarked. Like we hadn't just spent two hours carving violence into its surface.
I peeled my gear off slowly. Methodically. Shoulder pads first. Chest protector. Gloves still damp with sweat.
No rush.
The locker room emptied around me. Hades clapped my shoulder on his way out. Jeremy muttered something about wasted youth. Gang Lu said nothing—just met my eyes for half a second before disappearing.
They knew better than to wait.
I headed for the showers.
Steam filled the tile room, thick and anonymous. Water hit my shoulders hot enough to sting. I stood under the spray and let it work through muscle and tension.
My mind stayed sharp.
Clear.
Belle's father owed money. Not to a bank—banks had paperwork, legal channels, predictable timelines. He owed it to someone who didn't advertise. Someone who knew how to leverage desperation.
And I'd bought that debt three days ago.
Not because I needed the money.
Because I needed the access.
The water scalded down my spine. I braced both hands against the tile and breathed through the heat.
This wasn't impulse.
Wasn't some unhinged obsession born of rejection.
I'd been patient. Calculated. I'd watched her for months—learned her routines, her weak points, the exact shape of the trap her life had become.
She thought Gideon Jones showing up at her bookstore was a coincidence.
