Page 23

Chapter Seventeen

" A im, Banks!" Coach shouts as I miss yet another pass. "What the hell was that?"

I grunt, slamming the heel of my stick against the ice as I skate back to the center.

Fuck.

Once again, I can't get her out of my head. I can’t stop thinking about this morning and how she snuck out of the house while I was at the gym like she was purposely avoiding me.

Her first class isn't until nine, so there was no reason for her to leave an hour early.

She just slipped through the cracks like we didn't tear each apart piece by piece in Callan’s bed last night.

Aidric said he was stopping by the hospital to see our boy before class. I told him I might go later, but I doubt I'll make it. I don't even know what the hell I'd say. Hey, man. Sorry I fucked the girl you were hooking up with in your bed last night.

Just the thought makes my gut twist. The guilt is a slow burn, acid chewing through every part of me. Seeing him will only make it worse, make this connection I keep telling myself they didn’t really have all the more real.

Last night, I barely slept. And today, I sat through every class in a haze, thinking about her. Avery fucking Castle.

Her voice, her mouth, the way she said my name right before she came apart under me. How we both held a question in our eyes neither of us was ready to answer. How I tenderly kissed her forehead and told her goodnight like it's not the first time I've ever done that with anyone.

And when I wasn’t thinking about that, I was focused on the meeting tonight, replaying the checklist over and over like it might keep me from spiraling.

Break into Klein’s office, retrieve the rock, and seal the cracks of this shitstorm before we get exiled from the Ice Lords, or worse.

Sounds simple enough, until it's not.

I skate harder, try to outrun my thoughts. Clear your head, Banks. Get it the fuck together.

That's exactly what Coach and all my teammates are thinking.

It's exactly what I need to do. So I fight like hell and push the thoughts aside.

For a few minutes, it works. The feel of the ice under me turns familiar, my stick in my hands a muscle memory as I chase the puck.

The smell of the rink, the bright lights above, and the taste of the guard in my mouth center me.

For the next few plays, I'm in complete control. Instead of letting everything around me suffocate me, I shove it all out the door of the arena and focus on the only thing that used to matter in my life. Hockey.

Coach finally blows the whistle, ending practice, and I’m the first one off the ice.

I hit the locker room like a ghost, ripping my helmet off and dropping my pads.

Sweat clings to my skin and nothing around me seems to resonate at all.

My body’s here, but my mind’s still stuck somewhere between her mouth on mine and my cock buried in her pussy.

My fists clench as I yank my jersey over my head. If I’m lucky, I’ll be too busy with school, the Ice Lords, and hockey for the guilt to catch up to me. But knowing my luck lately, I’ll be bleeding from it by midnight.

I swipe a towel across my face, ignoring the way my ribs ache with every breath.

"You hitting the gym tomorrow?" Slade asks as he slams his stick into its case.

"Yeah," I grunt. "Bright and early. You?"

He nods once. "Could use the extra conditioning."

"Cool. I'm leaving the house at six o'clock on the dot. Don't bail on me this time."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," he says, but we both know it's a lie because Slade hasn't seen the crack of dawn since preseason.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and head for the door, wanting nothing more than to get home, shower, and collapse on my bed before the meeting that I know will test every ounce of my patience.

I’m halfway to the door when a fist slams into my shoulder, jarring me sideways.

"Snap the fuck out of it," Aidric hisses.

I clench my jaw and roll my shoulder, turning to meet his glare. 'What the hell, man!"

"You’ve been out of it for days," he grumbles. "A fucking freshman could’ve nailed that pass you botched today."

I don’t respond, just keep moving toward the exit.

"Did you even go to see Callan?"

I stop, spine straight, and my hand gripping my bag a little tighter. "No," I say without looking at him.

Aidric scoffs. "Unbelievable."

He steps in front of me, but I hang my head low. It's not because I'm intimidated by Aidric, not in the least. It's because I'm ashamed of myself and if I look into his eyes, he'll know what I did.

"Fucking look at me, damnit." His voice thunders across the locker room.

I force my chin up, jaw clenched.

"Callan’s getting out Friday," he says. "They’re sending him to a short-term rehab facility for a few days and he'll probably be back in the house next week." His stare sharpens. "That means if his memory’s still gone, the girl goes . He comes first."

The breath I didn’t realize I was holding punches out of me.

Next week? Fuck.

Aidric’s eyes narrow. "You need to figure your shit out before he walks back through our door."

I don’t say a word back. I just give Aidric a stiff nod before pushing past him and heading out the door.

As soon as I get back to the house, I go straight to my room. I peel off my sweat-drenched shirt, kick off my shoes, and strip down, heading for the shower.

The hot water hits my back like a slap and I grit my teeth through it. I need to wash this fucking day off. Shitty thing is, the day's not even over. I've still got a bunch of bullshit to take care of tonight.

Man, I miss the days when all I had to worry about was hockey, school, and the depraved shit we do as Ice Lords. Now, all that depraved shit is backfiring and I'm dodging bullets left and right.

Fifteen minutes later, I step out of the shower, steam curling around my shoulders as I dry off and toss on black pants and a fitted black shirt.

Fury still burns in my veins as I get dressed and I can’t figure out how the fuck I’m supposed to get rid of this feeling.

Part of me wants to storm back into Callan’s room and fuck Avery until she forgets any name that isn’t Sebastian Banks.

But that’s insane, so I shove that idea away because it can’t happen. I hate her. She hates me. And that’s how it needs to stay.

I go back in my room and put on my ceremonial cloak, brushing my fingers over the crest stitched into the shoulder.

Finally, I pull the bone-white, hollowed-eyed mask over my face, the gold crest of the Ice Lords on the bottom right cheek.

When I look in the mirror, I don’t see Sebastian Banks, I see the Lord Speaker, and tonight, my voice will echo. It will speak with authority, branding itself into the very bones of our members. And if they dare betray us, they will pay.

I head down to the chamber, bypassing a few of the guys who are waiting to go down themselves.

I pause on the steps to check a text from one of our insiders who ran the blood on the arrow. I’m hoping like hell it's good news.

Mark: Sample doesn't appear to be of human origin. Probably animal blood. If you need anything else, let me know.

Damn. I was counting on that giving us something. But we’ll find a lead eventually.

We have to.

I forward the text to Aidric and keep walking, each step grounding me more than the last because beneath the chaos and secrets is the place where we rule. Down here my thoughts aren’t riddled by a little lamb; they're solely focused on the Ice Lords

When I get to the bottom of The Chamber, I assess the place where the red paint marked a declaration of war. A few stains still line the walls, but it's cleaner now. Jeremiah did well.

Aidric’s down here when I arrive, standing tall at the altar, his own mask in place. We watched the video feed at least a hundred times, but the figure was too well-hidden and what we had to work with was too short.

I nod to the back door where I added a new camera, a small one on a video feed no one knows about. Aidric glances that way behind the mask then gives me a penetrating stare. I know him well enough that I can guess exactly what he is saying without words.

Next time we will catch the fucker.

I take my place beside Aidric, waiting as the others file in.

I count each one, watching and searching for nerves.

Some come in quickly, knowing their place and finding comfort down here.

The Ice Lords take care of each other as long as we don’t betray one another, so our seasoned members know this isn’t a place to fear.

But a few of the newer ones are hesitant, moving slower and less sure.

Once everyone is here, Slade closes the door with a click, silencing the room. The wind that had been echoing through the vents stills, as if even the air knows to obey the authority this place demands.

"Brothers," I begin, voice sharp and commanding through the mask. "Tonight is not about rituals or rank—it's about loyalty."

Meeting the gaze of each member, I continue. "We’ve been compromised. This, paired with what happened to Callan is much more than a simple threat."

The silence that follows is heavy, weighted by what isn’t being said. It’s not the same without Callan, and I know they all feel it.

A sharp inhale breaks the silence, but no one speaks. I step off the altar and begin pacing the space slowly. "Someone broke in, defaced our revered sanctuary, and threatened our legacy. This isn’t just an insult; it’s a declaration of war ."

I stop in front of the first member, chin tilted high. "Inspection begins now."

Aidric steps off the altar, folding his arms and watching like a silent predator.

I approach the first Ice Lord. "Mask," I order.

He removes it, and I take my time memorizing each detail, running my gloved finger over the plastic, searching for signs of wear. When I see it's clean, I nod and hand it back to him.