Page 27

CHAPTER 27

Malakai

Game days are a different kind of high. Nothing else in the world comes close to the charge of stepping onto the ice, knowing that every move I make controls the rhythm of the game.

I thrive in the chaos. The weight of a hundred eyes on me, the sharp, icy bite of the rink, the brutal rush of impact when I send someone crashing into the boards. It’s my domain. My battlefield. And today, there’s something extra fueling me.

Her.

Raven’s in the stands, right where I want her.

She’s wearing my fucking jersey.

The sight of her in it—my name stretched across her back, drowning in the fabric—sends a surge of satisfaction straight through me. It’s a statement, a taunt, a goddamn declaration. And I know Alex sees it.

Because the second we skate onto the ice, his gaze locks on her. His whole face tightens, his hands gripping his stick so hard his knuckles go white. Good. I want him to feel it. I want him to fucking drown in it.

Coach calls us in for the pregame talk, but my attention is split. Alex is vibrating with barely contained rage, glancing at me then back at Raven like he’s trying to convince himself she’s not actually there. Like this isn’t his reality.

Poor bastard.

He thought he could control her, thought he could play his little mind games and keep her in his orbit. But he lost. And I don’t just mean losing her—I mean losing everything . His spot in the Pantheon, his future, his fucking dignity. He’s still too stupid to realize that yet, but he will soon enough.

The game starts, and I do what I do best. Dominate.

We’re up by two goals by the second period, and I’m feeling untouchable. Every hit lands harder. Every pass is sharper. The crowd’s a blur, just background noise to the sound of my own breathing, my own control.

Then Alex fucks up.

He comes at me too hard, too fast, trying to prove something. I see him coming a mile away, but I let him take the shot—because I want to hit back.

He slams into me with everything he’s got, but I don’t go down. He does.

The boards rattle from the impact, and the second he hits the ice, I lean over him, grinning down.

“Pathetic,” I murmur, just loud enough for him to hear.

His eyes blaze with fury. He scrambles up, shoves me, but I barely budge.

“You got something to prove, little prince?” I taunt, low and dangerous.

His jaw clenches. “Stay the fuck away from her.”

I grin. Slow. Mocking.

“She’s already mine.”

Alex snaps .

He swings at me. Right there, in the middle of the damn game, in front of everyone . His fist barely grazes my jaw before I shove him back so hard he stumbles. The refs come flying in, pulling us apart, but the damage is done.

He just lost his last shred of control.

The ref sends him straight to the penalty box, and Coach’s expression is murderous. I skate off, smirking as I pass the stands—because Raven is watching, lips parted, eyes locked on me like she’s seeing me in a new light.

Like she finally gets it .

This isn’t just about hockey. This is war.

And I never lose.

The crowd is still buzzing when we walk off the ice victorious. My teammates slap my back, talking about the game, but my mind is already on her . I know she’s coming. She won’t be able to resist.

And sure enough, she’s waiting by the exit, pushing through the press of bodies like she’s got a fucking purpose.

She steps up to me, and there’s something reckless in her eyes—something that makes my blood run hot.

“You played well,” she murmurs, voice teasing but edged with something real.

I smirk, leaning down just enough that our noses almost brush. “Did I?”

Raven huffs a laugh, rolling her eyes, and then—before I can process it—she grabs my jersey and kisses me.

The second her lips touch mine, everything else ceases to exist. The noise, the people, the lingering heat of the game—none of it matters. It’s just her. Her fingers in my jersey, her lips moving against mine, her body pressed so close I could swear she’s trying to sink into me.

Fuck.

I grip her waist, deepening the kiss, staking my claim right here, right now. If there was any doubt before, it’s gone. She’s mine.

A furious roar splits the air.

Alex.

He’s out of the penalty box, still in full gear, and he charges.

The dumbass is actually coming straight for us, shoving past security, past teammates, his eyes wild with rage.

“ You fucking bastard! ”

He lunges, but I barely move. I don’t have to.

Before he can reach me, two of my teammates grab him, yanking him back. Another Titan steps in, blocking his path, shoving him away.

“Chill the fuck out, Callahan,” one of them snaps.

“Let me go! I’ll kill him!” Alex thrashes, but he’s outnumbered. He looks fucking pathetic—desperate and losing control.

Coach’s voice cuts through the chaos. “ Enough! ”

Silence.

Alex stills, chest heaving, face red with fury.

Coach steps forward, disappointment dripping from every word. “That stunt in the game was bad enough. Now this?” He shakes his head. “You’re done. Suspended for three games— minimum .”

Alex’s face crumples. “Coach?—”

“Keep talking, and I’ll make it six.”

The reality hits him like a slap. The crowd, the refs, his own teammates— everyone just watched him lose it. And now? Now, his hockey career is officially circling the drain.

And the best part?

If he had The Pantheon’s backing, this wouldn’t be happening. They would’ve protected him, smoothed things over. But without them?

He stands no fucking chance.

He knows it. I know it.

And the day when he gets fully suspended from this college? It’s coming. Fast.

I glance at Raven, my smirk slow, satisfied.

She tilts her head, studying me like she’s trying to figure out if she should be turned on or horrified.

She’ll get there.

Because this? This is just the beginning.

Alex is still seething, barely held back by my teammates, his face twisted with so much rage it’s almost funny. Almost.

But my attention shifts the second I spot him.

Alex Callahan Sr.

Standing in the private section of the stands, dressed in one of his perfectly tailored suits, shaking hands with a couple of high-powered execs who fund this university. He’s got that same polished smile plastered on his face, the one that fools people into thinking he’s a good man. A righteous man.

Bullshit.

That motherfucker is already working angles. Even from down here, I can see it—the casual nods, the subtle handshakes, the fake concern written across his face. He’s greasing palms, whispering favors, planting the seeds to make sure his golden-boy son doesn’t suffer the consequences of his actions.

My jaw tightens, rage crawling up my spine like fire licking at my bones.

That piece of shit.

He’s never lifted a finger for me. He wanted to give me hush money so his little dirty secret wouldn't be out, but he never even thought of me as his son or gave me a goddamn chance. But for him —for his precious, legitimate heir —he’s willing to pull strings, twist fate, rewrite the rules.

I curl my hands into fists, my vision tunneling.

If he thinks he’s going to save Alex, he’s dead fucking wrong.

“Malakai,” Raven murmurs next to me, voice low but firm.

I don’t look at her. I can’t.

Not when I can feel that old bitterness festering, the raw fucking truth of my existence rising like bile in my throat.

Alex Callahan Sr. could’ve acknowledged me at any point in my life. Could’ve given me even the smallest scrap of what he’s given Alex.

But he didn’t.

And now, he’s standing up there, probably making calls, securing backroom deals, ready to make sure his son doesn’t face any real consequences.

Just like always.

Just like fucking always.

I take a step forward, chest tight with rage, but a hand wraps around my wrist.

Raven.

Her grip is steady, grounding. She tugs me back, forcing me to look at her.

Her eyes are sharp, knowing. “Not here,” she says quietly.

My nostrils flare. “You think I’m just going to stand here and let him?—”

“No,” she interrupts. “I think you’re going to be smart about this.”

I exhale hard through my nose, jaw clenching.

She steps in closer, lowering her voice, keeping this between us. “You want him to suffer? You want both of them to go down?” Her fingers tighten on my wrist. “Then we don’t act on impulse. We don’t give them a chance to counter us.”

I stare at her, my pulse still hammering, but her words cut through the fury.

Raven fucking gets it.

She understands what I want.

Not just to beat Alex. Not just to ruin his life.

I want to burn their entire world down.

Slowly. Methodically. Completely.

I take a deep breath, forcing my hands to relax. My body still hums with barely restrained aggression, but I nod.

Raven tilts her head, watching me. “We plan,” she murmurs. “We strike when they least expect it.”

A slow smirk curls my lips, dark and promising.

“Yeah,” I say, voice rough. “We fucking end them.”

The adrenaline from the game is still running hot in my veins when I cut through the back hallways of the arena. The place is still packed with students, fans, and the usual post-game chaos, but I’m looking for one person.

Nate.

I spot him near the players' lounge, leaning against the wall, talking low to a girl whose face I vaguely recognize. Long auburn hair, green eyes—yeah, I know her.

Jason’s sister.

I don’t remember her name, but I remember Jason mentioning her once or twice, always with a warning attached. The do not fucking touch kind.

I smirk, crossing my arms. “Well, well.”

Nate’s head snaps up, his eyes going wide before his expression shuts down. The girl glances at me, then back at Nate, and immediately takes the out.

“I should go,” she murmurs, already turning away.

Nate looks like he wants to stop her, but he doesn’t.

She’s gone in two seconds flat, leaving him standing there looking real fucking guilty.

I let the silence stretch just long enough for him to squirm.

Then I grin. “Jason would love this.”

“Shut up,” Nate mutters, running a hand over his face. “He doesn’t need to know.”

“Oh, he’ll know.” I tilt my head. “Should I tell him, or do you wanna break the news yourself?”

“You’re an asshole.”

I grin wider. “And you’re a dead man if he finds out. Hope she was worth it.”

Nate groans, but I can tell he’s still rattled. His fingers tap against his leg, his body tense. It’s not just the girl—he’s got something on his mind.

“You good?” I ask, raising a brow.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Just thinking about the meeting.”

Right. The meeting.

I roll my shoulders, shaking off the lingering post-game aggression. “We’ll go over the plan for Alex. I’m making sure every one of those bastards knows what’s at stake. No one’s backing out now.”

Nate nods, but there’s something hesitant in his expression.

I narrow my eyes. “Spit it out.”

He exhales, shifting on his feet. “Raven’s gonna be there?”

I stiffen.

His tone isn’t aggressive, but there’s an edge to it, a quiet challenge under the words that I do not fucking like.

“What about it?”

Nate shrugs. “Just… it’s a Pantheon meeting. Only us. And now suddenly she’s part of everything ?”

A slow burn creeps up my spine.

“She’s involved, Nate.” My voice drops. “That’s not changing.”

“I get that she’s involved, but—” He hesitates. “She’s not one of us. ”

A muscle jumps in my jaw.

“She’s my girlfriend.”

Nate huffs a short laugh. “She’s your fake girlfriend.”

The words hit a nerve I wasn’t expecting.

I don’t even think. My body moves before my mind catches up—I step forward, close enough that the tension is real , and Nate immediately straightens.

“Say that again,” I dare him, my voice low.

Nate exhales, shaking his head like he’s already regretting the conversation. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Didn’t you?” My eyes flicker over his face, sharp and assessing. “Or do you actually think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

Nate rubs a hand over his face. “Look, man, I don’t care what’s real or fake, okay? Just…” His voice drops. “Don’t let her fuck with your head.”

I scoff, stepping back. “No one fucks with my head.”

His silence tells me exactly what he’s thinking.

I turn on my heel and leave without another word, but the minute I’m alone, his words gnaw at me.

Fake.

Fake girlfriend.

I huff a laugh, shaking my head.

There’s nothing fucking fake about this anymore.