Page 45

Katarina

Ishould’veslammedthedoorthe second I got home.

Instead, I lean on it like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. My palms are clammy. My heart? Still thundering likeIwas the one sprinting suicide drills.

Not because of work.

Because of him.

Liam Steele—walking trouble, cocky as hell, grudge-holding bastard with a smirk that could get a nun to sin.

And today, he figured it out.

I saw the moment it clicked. The second his eyes landed on my name tag and he put two and two together. Novak. Griffin Novak’s little sister. The same guy who made his life hell on skates. The guy Liam would probably pay to punch in the face if he didn’t already owe him his entire trade history.

And now? He knows I’m blood.

Not just the team nutritionist. Not just the girl with the clipboard and boundaries.

The sister of the one person in the league—Liam—probably wishes dead.

I kick off my shoes and toss my bag onto the counter like it insulted me. The house is dark except for the soft glow from the kitchen underlight. Too quiet. Too calm for what’s happening inside my chest.

Because I don’t know what scares me more—what Liam knows now… or what I know.

That tattoo.

The lock. Inked over his heart like a goddamn brand. The same one I ran my fingers over that night, nails dragging across sweat-slicked skin as he thrust deeper, rougher. The way he whispered things I haven’t stopped replaying since. Words that wrecked me. Ruined me.

And now, the man who made me come so hard I literally forgot my own name—Is the same man who just found out mine.

I slam open the fridge. Nothing in here is cold enough to cool what’s happening under my skin. I grab a bottle of water, crack the cap, and drink half of it like it might drown the memory of that tattoo.

Like I could wash the heat off my skin. Like I could erase the sound I made when he bit my shoulder and told me I was his. But that voice, that grip—it’s his. And now I have to pretend I never let it inside me.

It doesn’t.

I attempt to call Aurora...habit. Surprise she's putting Skylar to sleep.

I text Layla: Emergency. Call me in 10 or I’m showing up at your place with tequila and a death wish.

She calls in two.

“Jesus, Kat. You okay?”

“No.”

I don’t even wait for her reply before unloading.

“I slept with Liam Steele.”

A beat of silence.

“Oh.”

“Oh? That’s all you have?”

Layla exhales hard. “I’m bracing for impact. Keep going.”