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Because I knew how this ended.

Blood would spill before this was over.

And God help me, I just hoped it was mine.

I let out a breath, trying to untangle the mess in my head, but it was useless. Every time I pushed her, I wanted her more. Every moment spent coaching her had turned into something twisted—something that felt like a sickness, a need.

And the worst part?

I wasn’t just risking my career anymore.

I was risking her.

I clenched my fists, anger bubbling beneath my skin—at myself, at this whole fucked-up situation, at Chambers watching from the sidelines like a wolf waiting for the right moment to tear this apart.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” she asked, voice soft but steady, and for a second, it cut through the noise.

I looked at her—really looked at her.

And I saw it.

Not just defiance. Not just frustration.

Fear.

Not of me. Of us.

Of what this was turning into.

I clenched my jaw and shook my head, forcing out the lie even as it burned like acid on my tongue. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

But we both knew better.

There was no stopping this now. No undoing what we’d done.

And as the storm rolled in, swallowing us whole, one thing became clear:

No more games.

No more pretending this would end any other way than in flames.

Chapter 25

Iris

Ifelt drained as I trudged out of the rink, my legs heavy with fatigue. Practice had been brutal—Knox pushing us harder than ever, his eyes burning into me like a brand. Every drill felt like a fight against the weight of his gaze and the expectations that suffocated me. Chambers was lurking near the boards, his presence a constant reminder of everything that could unravel in an instant.

The whispers from Brooke still echoed in my ears, her playful taunts twisting into something more sinister. It hadn’t been just harmless banter; it had been a warning. And I hated how much it unsettled me.

I needed to escape the chaos of the rink. It no longer felt like my sanctuary—it felt like a battlefield where every smile could hide a dagger and every cheer masked anxiety. My teammates might have been laughing, but I knew they sensed it too—the tension hanging thick in the air, ready to snap at any moment.

As I walked toward my car, I craved home—the warmth of familiar walls, the smell of Dad’s cooking filling the air, the way he always made sure I felt safe and supported. Home was whereI could forget about Knox’s possessive grip and Chambers’ predatory gaze, even if only for a moment.

But with every step, I wondered if that place still existed for me. My heart raced as memories flooded back—Knox’s lips on mine, his hands gripping me like he never wanted to let go. The thrill mixed with dread; how could I go back to normal when everything inside me screamed for him?

I leaned against my car, trying to breathe through the exhaustion gnawing at me. A part of me knew I’d have to face it again—the weight of their expectations and my own desires crashing together like waves against rocks. And in that moment, I realized: there would be no simple return to safety—not while Knox Callahan held my heart so tightly in his grasp.

I drove home, my thoughts swirling like snowflakes dancing outside my window in winter. Each turn felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the lingering tension from practice. Knox’s voice echoed in my mind, pushing me harder, demanding more—both on and off the ice. I tried to shake it off, to focus on the familiar sights of our small town, but nothing felt normal anymore.