Page 8

CHAPTER 7

As soon as Avery disappears into the clubhouse, I jerk the wheel and back into a tight space between a Corvette and a rusted-out minivan.

My grip stays firm on the steering wheel, eyes locked on the door she just slipped through. I should leave, but something keeps me here. Curiosity tugs at me, refusing to let go. She said she never misses the target and I wanna see for myself. No one is that good.

The field in front of me is nearly empty with only three archers, one of whom just sent her arrow skidding into the grass ten feet past the target. Amateur.

Not that I could do any better, but still.

After watching arrows go everywhere but the target at the other end of the field for what feels like twenty minutes or so, Avery steps outside, her long brunette hair now pulled into a high ponytail. Her outfit has changed. She’s now sporting a pair of black knee-high boots, formfitting jeans that have me shifting in my seat, and a black track vest layered over her long-sleeved white t-shirt.

There’s never been a doubt in my mind that Avery is hot as fuck. Any guy would kill for a chance to get with her. The thing is, once they get that chance, she’ll rip them to shreds and toss them aside without a second thought.

Just like she did to me.

I sit up straighter, watching as she walks onto the field with all that confidence and sass that once had me willing to kneel at her feet. A hard bow case hangs from her hand like it weighs nothing. She’s got a black belt cinched around her waist with a quiver clipped at her hip and three sharp-tipped arrows sticking out from inside it.

Maybe I’ve underestimated her. Avery has always had the bite to back up her bark. However, I never imagined that could extend outside of social situations. But right now she looks like a badass who belongs out there.

She strides to an open lane, stopping fifty meters from a black foam target with a yellow bullseye. The guy next to her turns and says something that makes her smile. A real smile. Not one of the shit-eating grins she’s always throwing my way.

I shift in my seat, leaning forward as if it will bridge the gap between us. The guy moves closer. Almost too close. Crouching down beside her, his fingers brush over her bow like he’s got any right to touch her gear. And when his hand lifts and grazes her cheek, something feral curls in my gut. My fingers tighten around the wheel, hot blood coursing through my veins.

I make a note to break those fingers if they ever land on her again. I may despise Avery, but she’s mine to deal with and I don’t share.

Raising her bow into position, she sets her stance. The guy makes a smart move and retreats while Avery squares her shoulders.

She nocks an arrow, and sets her sights on the bullseye. The moment stretches thin. My pulse drumming to the beat of her concentration. Then, in a single breath, she cuts the arrow loose. It slices through the air, sinking in the dead center of the target.

I catch myself smiling, feeling pretty damn proud. Maybe she was right. Maybe she really doesn’t miss. Avery might be the kind of weapon we need in The Ice Society.

Her lips curve into a satisfied grin, and, of course, the guy beside her notices. He steps in again, palm pressing against her lower back. It lingers there for far too long. When I notice the tension in her shoulders and the look of apprehension on her face, I almost intervene. Lucky for him, Avery sidesteps away from him and his hand falls to his side.

She resumes shooting and I watch as she hits bullseye after bullseye. When the sun dips beneath the mountaintops, she packs up and disappears back inside the clubhouse.

That’s my cue to leave. If she catches me out here, she might get the impression I’m still hung up on her. Which is the furthest thing from the truth. Sure, I once caught feelings I never meant to. But those died the night she ripped out my heart and wrung it dry with her dirty little fingers. What she doesn’t know is, I was falling long before we ever slept together. I fought it hard, but when she started flirting back, I let myself believe, just for a second, that it meant something.

Then everything changed.

My chest heaves, breaths ragged and desperate as I push my body past its limits. Headlights slash through the darkness, illuminating the path ahead, while the car behind me barrels closer, determined to run me down.

My legs scream, muscles burning, but adrenaline surges through my veins, drowning out the pain. My heart pounds so violently I think it might burst, but I can’t stop. Not now. Not when stopping means the end.

I reach the top of the clearing, my gut plummeting as reality crashes down. There’s nowhere left to run. The brush is too thick, the cliff too daunting. One look at the drop sends a wave of fear tearing through me, my pulse roaring in my ears.

I have no choice. I put myself here, and there’s no undoing my fate.

The glow of headlights sweeps over me again, cutting off my hesitation.

I make my decision, and with a sharp inhale, I throw myself forward, praying like hell I'll live to see another day. My body turns weightless—air rushing past me, the world blurring—as I accept my demise.

“Fuck,” I grumble, hands planted firmly to the mattress on either side of me as I jerk awake.

Same terror, different night.

The nightmare clings until I look around my room and reality slams into me. My room, my bed, four walls. It’s familiar and safe—yet nothing feels safe.

I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the cool air blowing through my open window. Exhaling, I let my head sink back onto the pillow, but sleep feels miles away.

I stare at the ceiling, the faint glow of the moon casting shadows across the room. My mind drifts to our upcoming game on Wednesday. If Vermont doesn’t get his shit together, he could cost us everything. He’s a beast on the ice, but this weight on his shoulders is dragging him down. Aidric’s pushing hard, expecting him to handle Evan. And we all know what that means.

Evan can’t wake up. Not with his memory intact. If he does, it’s over. Everything I’ve bled for, every inch I’ve clawed my way up, will all be for nothing.

Then there’s Avery.

A storm I never saw coming. I should have. Hell, I should’ve braced for impact the second she crashed into my world. She’s always been a thorn in my side, but now she’s a knife, and every time she gets closer, it twists deeper and deeper.

I shut it down. I shut her down. I refuse to let myself fall into that trap again.

Kicking off the sheet, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand. The room feels like it’s shrinking, threatening to swallow me whole. I need to walk off this restless energy.

I jerk open my bedroom door and step into the dark hallway, moving on autopilot as I head downstairs for a glass of water. The second I hit the bottom step, the scent of burgers floods my senses.

I don’t even have to guess who’s behind the grill at this hour.

Aidric is no stranger to sleepless nights. While I usually manage a few solid hours before my nightmare drags me under, he barely sleeps at all.

He swears the witching hours were made just for him, says he feels most alive when the rest of the world is asleep. He hardly touches food during the day and prefers to eat in the quiet of the night. Occasionally, he’ll steal a catnap between classes, but five hours of sleep is more than enough for him. Yet, somehow, he’s still healthier than any of us and built like a damn ox.

I round the corner into our massive kitchen to see a streak of ketchup smeared across the white granite countertop. Almost everything in here is white, except for the stainless steel appliances. It’s a miracle it stays that way, considering the messes we leave behind. Not that we worry about it. Someone comes in four times a week to clean up after us. It’s one of the perks of being who we are. Not just players, or students, but members of The Ice Society.

The sliding doors to the back deck stand wide open and a gust of cool night air rushes in the room.

“Smells good,” I say, eyeing the freshly grilled burger Aidric is assembling at the counter.

I pull open one of the glass cabinets, grab a cup, and press it against the refrigerator’s water spout before downing it in one go.

“Nightmare again?” He doesn’t even look up—he already knows. Aidric sees me down here at least three times a week, chasing sleep that never sticks.

“Yep.” I turn, leaning against the fridge. The cold steel feels nice as it clings to my hot skin.

Slathering mayo onto a bun, Aidric finally lifts his head, his eyes sharp and knowing. “You sure that’s all it is? I can tell this girl’s been stirring some shit inside you.”

My hand cuts through the air. “I don’t give a fuck about that girl.”

Aidric smirks, as if he’s seeing through a lie.

I don’t know where he’s getting this idea that Avery’s gotten under my skin. While it’s clear I can’t stand her, I made a choice when accepting my invitation to play for the Lords. Everything in my past was left behind, The Ice Society my only way forward. Avery is no one. Nothing.

At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

“You sure about that?” he probes. “Sure she isn’t getting under your skin?”

I shake my head, lying to him—lying to myself. “Not a chance.”

Truth is, she is getting under my skin. But not in the way he thinks. That fucking girl clawed her way back into my life, dug her nails in deep, but I’ll be damned if I let her break me like she did the last time. Not a fucking chance.

Aidric smirks, leaning back like he’s testing me, waiting to see if I’ll bite. “I wouldn’t blame you if she was. The girl’s hot as hell.” He looks past me, gaze distant as if he’s stripping her down in his head. “Wouldn’t mind seeing those pretty little lips wrapped around my cock. Bet she’s tight as fuck, too.”

My jaw tics. He’s baiting me, and fuck… it’s working.

I step past him, unwilling to meet his eyes like somehow, if I do, he’ll see something that isn’t even there.No lust. No sorrow. Just pure unrelenting hate.

Turning on the faucet, I rinse my cup a few times before setting it in the strainer beside the sink.

“Avery Castle means nothing to me.” I say each word sharply. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure her silence.”

He hums in approval. “Glad to hear it. Seb and I knew we made the right choice with you.” He slaps the top bun onto his burger, glancing my way. “What do you think we should do with her when we head to Cloverville for the game Wednesday.”

His words catch me off guard. As far as I know, she’s been dealt with.

“We gave her instructions,” I say, keeping my tone even. “She’ll obey, and then it’s done.”

His eyes narrow. “Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me, Cromwell?”

I shrug, keeping my expression unreadable. “No fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

“We’re brothers, you know that, right? There’s no secrets between us. So, if there is anything you’ve left out. Anything we should know, now is the time to tell me. We’ll deal with it together.”

Dragging my fingers through my hair, I pull up something I’ve pushed far down. Avery’s words climb their way back into my head.

I wrote it all down. If something happens to me, everyone will know who did it. I made copies.

Part of me wants to believe she’s bluffing, but trust doesn’t come easy for me unless it’s with these guys—my family.

At the risk of her telling the truth, I spill.

“All right.” I nod, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “There is something.”

He pauses, setting his burger down slowly. Both hands press against the counter, his full attention locked on to me.

“She said she wrote everything down,” I admit. “That if something happens to her, everyone will know exactly who did it. And…” I brace myself, knowing this next part will set him off. “…she claims she made copies.”

His hand slams down on the counter, rattling the plate beside it. “That bitch!” he roars.

I shrug lazily, downplaying the situation. “I can’t even be sure she was telling the truth, to be honest. It’s hard to read that girl.”

“But the fact that she even said it means she thinks she’s the one in charge here.” His expression darkens, anger flickering beneath the surface. “I’m gonna fucking bury her!”

“I don’t think she sees it that way,” I tell him truthfully. “Avery talks a big game, but she doesn’t throw any punches. I just can’t see her making any bold moves.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Then slowly, the devious glint in his eye sharpens, telling me her fate is no longer settled. Doesn’t matter what I say, he’s made up his mind.

“Well,” he drawls, amusement in his tone. “She actually thought she could sway us. Thought we’d believe she could be trusted . Our little devil has no idea who she’s fucking with.”

Part of me wants to revel in the power we have over her, to celebrate the way she’s trapped in our world now. But another part of me wants that power all to myself.

“So, what are we gonna do about Cloverville?” he asks as he tosses a butter knife into the sink.

I exhale, shaking my head. “We can’t bring her with us. It would raise suspicion.”

More than that, Brogan would be on me in a second. She might not know the full depth of my history with Avery, but she does know we can’t stand each other. If Avery suddenly became part of our world, Brogan would smell the bullshit from a mile away. I’m actually surprised she didn’t dig deeper when I showed up at their dorm.

“Fine. But I’ll have eyes on her while we’re away. And if she fucks up, you’ll be the one digging her grave.”Slowly, he drags the pad of his thumb through the streak of ketchup on the counter, then pops it into his mouth, tasting it like he’s savoring something far more twisted. “Oh, this is gonna be fun,” he muses. “She wants to play, we can fucking play.”

I should’ve known Aidric wouldn’t let her get away so easily. He thrives on control, on bending people to his will, and right now, Avery is just another piece in his game. In our game.

“What exactly did you have in mind?” I ask him—half curious, half ready to prepare myself.

His teeth sink into his rare burger, a smear of blood on his lips. Mischief glints in his eyes and I almost regret asking. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” he says through a mouthful of food, chewing on whatever fucked-up plan is already brewing in his head. “One thing’s for certain, our little devil won’t even whisper our names by the time we’re through with her.”

This was supposed to be simple. She swore we could trust her. And for once , I sort of believed her. I saw the fear in her eyes. I felt the fire of her fury. She’s not telling anyone. Regardless, something in my gut tells me this is far from over.