Page 16

CHAPTER 16

Malakai

I know Alex is fucked the second I step onto the ice. He’s already on the rink, already skating like he’s got something to prove. His shoulders are tight, his grip on his stick too firm, his shots just a fraction off. It’s subtle, but I see it.

He’s distracted.

Because of me .

Because of her .

A slow grin spreads across my face as I tighten my gloves and skate toward the group. Jameson glides up beside me, elbowing my side. “You think he’s gonna throw hands today?”

“I fucking hope so.”

Jameson snorts. “You’re a menace.”

I roll my shoulders. “Nah. I just like making weak men break.”

Because that’s what this is.

Alex is on edge, spiraling, holding onto whatever scraps of self-control he has left. And I’m going to tear those scraps away, one by one .

I catch him looking at me from across the ice, eyes dark, jaw tight. I smirk. Come on, Callahan. Let’s see what you’ve got.

Coach starts running drills, and I bide my time. I don’t go for him immediately—I wait. I watch. He’s trying to hold it together, trying to act like last night didn’t fucking gut him. Like I didn’t send him a front-row ticket to his worst nightmare.

Pathetic.

I wait, and when my moment comes, I take it.

We’re running a passing drill, and when the puck lands on my stick, I cut across the ice and slam into Alex as I pass.

Hard. Hard enough to rattle his ribs, to send him into the boards with a thud that makes a few guys wince.

I keep skating, acting like it was just part of the drill.

Alex recovers fast, but I see it. The way he straightens too fast, the way he adjusts his grip like he’s trying to shake it off.

“You good there, Callahan?” I call out, circling back.

His glare is fucking deadly . “Watch it, Vega.”

I grin, stopping just short of him. “Didn’t realize you were so delicate.”

His fingers twitch on his stick like he wants to swing it at my face.

Coach blows the whistle. “ Get your fucking heads in the game! ”

For now, Alex grits his teeth and skates off, but I know the truth.

He’s right there.

Teetering on the edge.

And I’m going to be the one to push him over.

Scrimmage starts, and I don’t let up.

I watch him like a predator watches prey—tracking every mistake, every slip in his composure. He’s playing sloppy, his movements rushed. His emotions are all over the fucking place, and I know exactly why.

Because every time he looks at me, all he sees is her .

And that makes this so much fun.

The puck lands in Alex’s possession, and I skate straight for him, letting him think he’s got time, that he’s in control. The second he lowers his shoulder to fake a shot, I steal it clean from him, cutting across the ice so fucking effortlessly it has to sting.

I don’t even look back as I take off toward the goal.

But I hear him. The frustrated breath. The fucking rage .

It makes me grin.

"Jesus Christ, Alex!" one of our teammates yells as I outmaneuver him like it’s nothing.

I glide past the defense, take the shot, and—goal.

The puck slams into the net, a clean, beautiful fucking shot, and when I turn back around, I wait for it.

For him .

Alex charges toward me, his skates cutting into the ice like he wants to plow straight through me.

I hold my ground, smirking as he gets right up in my fucking face, his chest rising and falling like he can barely breathe through his own rage.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" he barks.

I chuckle, tapping my stick on the ice. "You want a list?"

His eyes darken, his breath coming out ragged. "You’re a fucking coward," he spits. "You pull this sneaky shit because you know you’re not man enough to?—"

I don’t let him finish.

My fist slams into his jaw, cracking across his cheekbone with a sharp thud that echoes through the rink.

Alex stumbles back, barely catching himself before he lunges at me.

Then we’re fucking swinging.

The second his fist connects with my lip, I grin through the blood.

"That all you got?" I taunt, licking at the metallic taste spreading over my teeth.

Alex roars and goes in again, but this time, I’m ready.

I duck his next punch, slam my forearm into his ribs, then tackle him straight to the ice.

We hit hard, skates scraping, sticks clattering to the side as we fucking go at it.

"GET OFF ME, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" Alex barks, landing another blow to my ribs.

I laugh as I shove him back, pinning him beneath me for half a second before he twists and reverses it.

We’re a tangle of fists and rage, our teammates and refs screaming at us to stop, but neither of us does.

Because this isn’t just a fight.

This is years of resentment.

This is hatred bred in fucking blood .

I get another hit in before the refs finally yank us apart, their arms locking around our shoulders, dragging us backward.

Alex’s cheek is already swelling, his breathing ragged.

My lip is split, blood dripping down my chin.

Both of us are still fucking seething .

Coach storms onto the ice, looking like he’s about to murder us both.

" WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?! " he roars, his face red with fury. "YOU THINK THIS IS SOME GODDAMN STREET FIGHT? GET THE FUCK OFF MY ICE—NOW!"

The refs shove us toward the bench, barking orders for us to hit the locker room.

Alex wipes at his mouth, still fuming. "You’re a fucking disgrace to this team."

I smirk, cracking my neck. "And you’re a fucking joke ."

His fists tighten, like he wants to throw another punch, but I love watching him hold himself back.

He knows that if he comes at me again, he won’t be able to stop.

And that’s what makes me better .

The locker room is tense as fuck.

Alex slams his gear into his locker, his whole body still wired with rage.

I take my time peeling off my gloves, flexing my sore fingers, letting the sting of the fight settle into my bones like a fucking prize.

Alex finally turns, storming toward me.

"Stay the fuck away from her," he grits out, voice low and lethal.

I tilt my head, smirking. "Make me."

He breathes hard, his hands shaking at his sides.

But he doesn’t move.

Because he knows he can’t .

I’ve already won.

I grab my towel, slinging it over my shoulder as I lean in, just enough to make sure he hears my next words clear as fucking day.

"You already lost, Callahan. Get used to it. "

He exhales sharply, his nostrils flaring, then storms out.

The second the door slams, Jameson whistles from across the room.

"That was some beautiful fucking chaos," he says, grinning.

I chuckle, running my tongue over my busted lip.

Yeah. It was.

But this?

This is just the beginning.