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“Fuck, Artemis.”

“The idiot ran her mouth about my mother and sabotaged my skates.”

My laughter dies.

“Wait. What?”

She shrugs like she’s telling me about the weather.

“She loosened my blade before putting my mother’s name in her mouth.”

My expression darkens.

“She messed with your skate?”

“Yes.”

“On purpose?”

“Yes.”

“And you only punched her once?”

Her lips twitch. “I was being restrained.”

I stare at her, then slowly lean back in my chair.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Because suddenly, none of this is funny. Figure skating isn’t a game. One loose blade, one bad landing, one split-second mistake, and everything can go to shit. A broken bone. A career-ending injury. Worse.

And Artemis had been the one standing on those blades.

Something cold settles in my chest.

“She could’ve seriously hurt you.”

Artemis’s expression shifts, just slightly.

“Yes.”

“You could’ve been killed, princess.”

Her eyes meet mine. “I could have.”

There’s no drama in her voice. No attempt to make herself the victim either.

She says it like a fact she’s already made peace with.

And somehow, that bothers me even more.

I look down at the food, my jaw tightening.

“Fuck.”

Then I look back at her.

“You should’ve hit her twice.”