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I nodded, forcing a neutral expression even as my stomach twisted into knots. He didn’t know what I knew—how we collided against each other in those drills, how her defiance ignited something dark and possessive within me.

“Just make sure you push her,” he added, leaning forward slightly. “But don’t break her.”

The words struck me like a punch to the gut. I forced myself to maintain eye contact with him, but inside? Inside, I was screaming.

“Yeah, I get it,” I managed to reply through clenched teeth.

“She’s special, Knox,” he reiterated, his tone shifting from professional to personal. “You can see it in how she plays. But with talent like hers comes pressure—she’ll need guidance.”

A bitter taste crept into my mouth at his words. He never spoke about me like this. Ever. And as much as I knew she deserved, so had I.

“Just remember,” he said quietly, fixing me with an intense stare, “you can mold talent without crushing their spirit.”

I nodded again but felt the weight of my own secrets pushing down on my chest like a boulder. Because she was mine now—broken or not—and that reality made every breath feel heavy and electric all at once.

I gripped my coffee cup harder than necessary, the ceramic warm against my palm, grounding me when everything else felt like it was slipping. Dad’s words settled between us like a loaded gun on the table. Don’t break her.

Too fucking late.

I had already crossed the line, had already taken her in ways I couldn’t come back from. And worse? I didn’t regret a damn second of it.

Dad had no idea how deep I was in, how Iris had wormed her way into my mind, my skin, my fucking soul. She wasn’t just a player anymore—wasn’t just potential on the ice. She was mine, tangled up in something we had no business touching but couldn’t stop chasing.

And now here he was, telling me to be careful with her. To protect her.

He didn’t realize I was the thing she needed protecting from.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my expression to stay neutral, though my heart was hammering against my ribs like it wanted to claw its way out. I couldn’t let him see it—the storm brewing inside me, the way his words had struck something raw.

Because if he knew?

If he even suspected?

I clenched my jaw and nodded once. “I hear you.”

Dad studied me, his sharp gaze sweeping over my face like he was trying to read between the lines. For a second, I thought he might push, might demand more. But then he leaned back, satisfied enough to let the moment pass.

“She trusts you,” he said after a beat. “Don’t let her down.”

I nearly fucking laughed.

Because that was the thing about trust.

Once you had it?

You could destroy someone with it.

The rink pulsed with noise and movement when I stepped in the rink, but my focus tunneled in on one thing. Her.

Iris stood near the bench, a bright streak against the cold expanse of ice. But I wasn’t the only one watching her.

Chris Langley leaned in, too close, that easy fucking grin on his face like he had any right.

Like he belonged there in her space. My jaw clenched, my fingers curling into fists at my sides.

He said something—some throwaway joke—and she laughed, but it wasn’t real.

It was the same scene over and over again, after ever practice.

And I couldn’t fucking help myself. I saw it, the way her smile barely reached her eyes. The way she held something back.

No one else would notice.

But I did.

The sharp edge of jealousy carved through me, dark and all-consuming. It settled deep in my chest, coiling tight like barbed wire. The way he looked at her, the casual brush of his hand near her arm—it sent something hot and violent crawling up my spine.

He had no fucking clue who he was playing with.

“Just talking about post-practice plans,” Chris said. Like I wasn’t one second from ripping him off the ice. “You should join us later.”

Iris hesitated. Just for a second. Her smile twitched, flickered—uncertainty creeping in. She didn’t want to say yes. She didn’t want to go with him.

But she also didn’t say no.

A slow, simmering rage settled in my bones. I wasn’t about to stand here and watch this shit play out.

I moved before I even thought about it, stepping into their space like I owned it. Because I did .

“Evans.” Her name came out low, sharp. A command. A claim.

She turned fast like she wasn’t expecting me to be there—like she hadn’t already felt me watching.

“You’re with me.” My voice was quiet but lethal, cutting through whatever bullshit Chris was selling.

I wasn’t asking.

The words sliced through the air like a blade.

Chris blinked, taken off guard, but the surprise vanished almost instantly, replaced by that smug fucking smirk of his. He thought this was a game. That he had some kind of shot. That I didn’t mean what I said.

Iris sucked in a sharp breath, her body tensing just enough for me to notice. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. She was waiting—processing— feeling the weight of what had just shifted between us.

I could see it in her eyes.

She knew she belonged with me.

Chris, the cocky little shit, had the audacity to chuckle. “Didn’t realize we were making teams, Callahan.” His tone was light, but I could hear the challenge beneath it. Testing me. Fucking testing me.

My jaw tightened, fingers twitching at my sides. I wasn’t in the mood for this. I wasn’t in the mood for him .

I didn’t even look at him when I spoke. My eyes were locked on her. “You’re with me,” I said again, voice low, rough, absolute.

A statement. A claim. A fucking fact .

Her breath hitched, barely noticeable, but I caught it. And that single, involuntary reaction? It sent a vicious, satisfied thrill tearing through me.

Chris might not have known it yet. She might not have admitted it yet.

But she was already mine.

Iris blinked, surprise flickering across her face, but she didn’t hesitate. She never did. When I called, she came.

Without a word, I led her toward the bench, putting enough distance between us and Langley so he could watch but not hear . Let him fucking wonder. Let him know he didn’t belong in this conversation—didn’t belong near her .

In the shadow of the rink, I turned, closing the space between us. My voice dropped, low and edged with something dark. “You think I don’t see him trying to put his hands on you?”

Her body tensed, shoulders squaring like she was ready for a fight, but her eyes—those sharp, electric eyes—darkened with something else. Something that made my blood burn.

“What’s it matter to you?” she shot back, voice laced with fire. A challenge.

I stepped in, close enough to feel the heat coming off her skin, to make sure she felt me. “It matters because you’re mine.”

The words landed between us like a match striking dry wood, igniting the air, thickening it. Her lips parted slightly, her breath coming faster, but she didn’t deny it. She didn’t step back.

She knew.

Every time she let me push her, every time she held my gaze like this—unflinching, breathless—she fucking knew .

She could pretend all she wanted with Langley, keep up the act, smile at him like he had a chance. But here, in this moment? It was just us. The world outside blurred into nothing, drowned by the pulse pounding between us, the silent war neither of us wanted to end.

I leaned in, slow and deliberate, my breath ghosting against her cheek. “Don’t think for a second I won’t protect what’s mine.”

She swallowed, the faintest hitch in her breath betraying her, but she didn’t move away. No retreat. No surrender.

Just the two of us, locked in something inevitable. Something dangerous.

And fuck, if that didn’t make my heart hammer harder than any game ever could.

I didn’t touch her. Not like last night.

But the space between us felt suffocating.

I could feel the tension wrapping around my ribs like a vice, coiling tight, daring me to close the distance. My fingers twitched at my sides, aching to grab her—to prove to her, to myself, to everyone watching that she was mine. But I didn’t.

I just let her stand there, breathing hard, locked in this moment with me.

Chris was still out there, pretending like he had a fucking chance. Still hovering, still waiting. He didn’t know what he was playing with. Didn’t know that every second he spent near her was pushing me further into a place I wouldn’t come back from.

Because if he ever actually tried to take her?

I’d fucking end him.

Consequences be damned.

I was in this now. All the way.

This wasn’t just about training her anymore. It wasn’t about my past, my failures, my redemption. None of that shit mattered when she was standing in front of me, challenging me with those defiant eyes, making it impossible for me to breathe without wanting her.

This was about her.

And I’d burn this whole fucking place down before I lost her.