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Chapter Twenty-Five

S topping in front of the door to the rink, I slide the black lace mask over my face. It does little to hide my identity, not that I’m trying. Tonight isn’t about anonymity; it’s about celebration.

I smooth my hands down the front of Callan’s hockey hoodie, a shiver trailing up my spine.

After yelling at my wardrobe for twenty minutes, I finally settled on something simple.

I went with the hoodie—because it’s Callan's and tonight is for him—paired with fitted jeggings and white Converse. Not that the shoes matter because once the event starts, I’ll be trading them in for skates anyway.

The moment I step inside the arena, I’m hit with awe. I showed up an hour early to make sure the guys didn't screw this up, but they've already done a stellar job.

The stadium has been completely transformed. Twinkling bulbs dangle from the rafters, casting a golden glow across the ice. A velvet archway is at the entrance to the rink, framed by silver lanterns and frosted pine. Teal and black banners line the walls, each displaying Callan’s number.

Even the benches have been reupholstered with black satin, and a tribute wall near the far end displays photos from his best games, candid snapshots with friends, and there's even notecards with a box for guests to write messages of encouragement to Callan.

My heart catches in my throat when I look up and see Callan’s face on the Jumbotron, his smile larger than life and his number blinking in the corner.

I press a hand to my chest. My heart still aches for him fiercely. But this time apart has really shown me things I didn’t expect. It reminded me of how deeply I still love him and how much I still want him, despite everything that has happened.

Callan has been the boy I was in love with since high school, and he became the man I was falling for when we finally opened up to each other.

It feels like we were cheated out of our time together and I have a strong feeling I’ll be burying my face in his pillow to cry tonight from how badly I want him back.

I had only just gotten him before he slipped right through my fingers. Yet, even with the surety and the ache pulsing through me, there’s someone else I long for, too.

Sebastian walks up beside me, wearing his own matte black mask with silver trim.His shoulder brushes mine, and I feel the jolt before he even speaks.

"Digging the mask," he says, a crooked grin on his face. His eyes roam my face like he’s trying to remember what I look like without it.

I smirk. "Yours isn’t bad either. Mysterious and brooding—very on-brand."

Members of the Lords team dart around the arena, some in skates, others in sneakers, stringing up last-minute decorations, adjusting spotlights, and taping off sections of the ice.

One of them curses as a banner slips sideways, and another tosses him a roll of tape mid-skate.

It’s organized chaos and, somehow, it works.

"Is there anything I can help with?" I ask, glancing around.

His eyes flick back to me. "As if coordinating all this wasn't enough?"

"Now that I see everything in action, I realize I didn't do nearly enough." I gesture to all of the guys working like bees in a hive to get it all put together and make my vision come to life.

Sebastian throws an arm over my shoulder, pulling me close like we're old pals. "You did plenty."

Scanning the room, he observes everything.

"Well, we’ve got the DJ mic-checked, the lights queued, and the finger-foods are rolling in soon.

Slade and Killian are making sure the skates are organized by size at the rental tables, and Aidric’s…

well, who the fuck knows what Aidric is doing.

" He chuckles. "Unless you feel like giving motivational speeches or lacing up hockey skates for strangers, I think we’re good. "

"Motivational speeches aren't exactly my strong suit."

Sebastian opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, Slade skates past us backwards, pointing two fingers at Sebastian. "We’ve got a lighting glitch at the west end. You or me?"

Sebastian groans. "I’m coming."

He starts to step away, then leans in just enough for me to hear. "Stick around. I’ve got something I want to show you later." His voice is barely above a whisper, but the promise in it sends a flicker of heat down my spine.

"Should I be worried?"

He smirks again, already moving. "Terrified."

I shake my head, smiling as I watch him disappear. Whatever this night turns into, I already know it’s going to be unforgettable.

Making my way toward the skate rental booth, I weave through a mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces, some in masks, some not.

The sound of the DJ testing the system comes through the speakers, followed by a few static thumps and mic taps.

I get to the booth and stand in line, which, of course is a mile long. Just as I take a step forward, inching ahead, a hand grips my arm and yanks me sideways.

"What the hell—" I start, but then I see that it's Aidric.

"Didn’t peg you for the skating type," he mutters, dragging me straight to the front of the line like he owns the damn place.

"And I didn’t peg you for the lurking type," I snap, elbowing my way into the narrow space between the counter and the pissed-off people behind us.

"Now gimme your damn shoes."

I shove them into his chest, thrusting a gasp out of him, and he snarls.

Without even looking at my size, he slaps his hand on the counter. "Size six, hockey skates."

I scoff. "Actually, I’m a seven and a half. And I wasn’t planning on joining the damn team tonight."

He gives a short, humorless laugh. "Not in skates you're not. And you’re not doing spins and tricks, Little Devil. So unless you plan on breaking your ankles out there, hockey skates are your best bet."

I arch a brow. "I knew that."

What I don't know is how he even knew my size without looking inside my shoe. Now that's a little creepy. Maybe Aidric is my stalker.

He smirks. "No you didn't."

Aidric grabs a pair of black skates with white laces from the guys behind the counter. "She's a volunteer with the event," he tells him before shoving the skates into my chest the same way I did to him.

A sharp breath escapes me. "You’re insufferable, you know that?"

"Maybe so, but I’m also not wrong. You need these so you can help organize shit."

I sit down on the bench and he lingers like a fucking mosquito out for blood.

"Ya know," he continues, arms crossed over his own Lords' team hoodie. "I'm curious to see how the night goes for you. Being here for the guy you claim to love, but hanging around with the one you’re fucking on the side."

I lift my chin, forcing a smirk when I really wanna grit my teeth. "You sound jealous."

Aidric’s eyes narrow slightly, then drop to my lips before flicking back up. "If I wanted you, Little Devil, I’d have you."

I bark out a laugh. "Right. Because that’s worked so well for you in the past."

"It did, did it not?" He taps his chin, gaze pointed at the ceiling. "I seem to remember my fingers deep inside your cunt not long ago."

My cheeks flush and my breath shutters. "Jesus Christ, Aidric. Why don't you just tell the whole goddamn arena?"

"Might as well, the truth always comes out eventually. You should know that by now."

"I don't even care." I shrug. "I'm not ashamed of my sex life. The only thing I'm ashamed of is that I ever let you touch me. But I can promise you, it won't happen again."

He grins and a chill actually creeps down my spine. "We'll see about that. Keep on pretending you’re in control, but I promise you, this will all blow up in your face eventually. The question is, who will be standing next to you when it does?"

Once I've got my skates on, I push past him.

"Try not to fall on your ass," I hear him say from behind me.

I turn and wave my arms out wide, taunting him as I shout. "Trust me. If I go down, I’m taking you with me, asshole."

He grits his teeth, but I walk away with a pep in my step, refusing to give him an inch.

When I reach the edge of the ice, I’m surprised by how many people are already out there. The DJ has the music going, lights dimmed with strobes dancing across the rink. Most of the Lords, who were running around earlier handling last minute details, are now skating and laughing.

I step one skate out, clutching the wall like a lifeline as I try to find my balance. It’s been forever since I’ve done this, and my confidence is shaky at best. Part of me considers staying on solid ground with my shoes on and my pride intact. But this is for a good cause—for Callan. It’ll be fun.

Just as I ease my second foot out, trying to find balance, I feel two hands on my waist.

"You’ve got this," Sebastian says behind me.

I tilt my head just enough to catch his face over my shoulder. That crooked smile and that damn confidence.

A laugh bubbles in my chest. "I’m not so sure about that."

"Sure you are," he says. "Now let go of the wall and let me help you."

I hesitate, and he catches it right away.

"Just trust me, Little Lamb," he adds, eyes locked on mine. "I’ve got you."

Trust Sebastian? That used to feel impossible. But lately he’s been…different. There’s a softness beneath the sharp edges—a quiet way he’s been showing up for me without asking for anything in return.

Maybe he’s not just the cold, ruthless guy I pegged him for. Maybe he’s just a guy who was dealt a brutal hand, trying to make it as a hockey player.

Yeah, I think I can trust him—at least with this.

"One foot at a time," Sebastian says. "Don’t fight the glide."

I try to follow his lead; my body stiff at first, but he steadies me. Each time I wobble, he’s there with his hands firmly on my waist, his body close enough that I can feel the heat of him through our layers.

"Okay." I laugh nervously. "Maybe I don’t totally suck."

He smirks. "I’m gonna take full credit for that."