Gloves Off (The Hollowgrave Wraiths #1)

Chapter 1

Kennedy

The lights from the city below flickered like stars trapped in glass.

The penthouse buzzed with laughter and the clinking of glasses, a symphony of wealth and power.

I stood near the bar, feeling the smooth surface of the counter beneath my palm, but Gary Delgado’s grip on my wrist turned that comfort into a vice.

His charming smile beamed for the cameras, all glitz and glamour, but his breath grazed my ear like a cold draft.

“You’re drinking water tonight. We don’t want another mistake, do we?”

“I didn’t mean—”

He snapped, his tone sharp as broken glass. “You belittled me in front of my teammates.”

“I didn’t,” I replied, forcing my voice steady despite the way my heart raced. “I said you were the oldest defenseman after they traded Fowler. That’s a compliment.”

His laughter sounded hollow. “Out of all the ways you could have said it… do you not know how it came out? Don’t act stupid. Next time, if you can’t figure out how to talk, fucking keep your mouth shut.”

I clenched my teeth, fighting back the tide of tears that threatened to spill over. This was not how I envisioned the night going when I stepped into this party—a dazzling afterparty with athletes and their perfect companions—but now it felt like quicksand.

“Are you fucking crying? You get to be a victim after you attack me? Fix your face. You will not embarrass me again.”

The heat rose in my cheeks as I inhaled slowly through my nose. I took another breath to ground myself, willing away the pressure building behind my eyes.

Around us, conversations flowed freely; laughter mingled with clinking ice in crystal glasses while photographers captured moments of joy and celebration. Yet here I stood in a spotlight of shame and fear, suffocated by expectations and unspoken rules.

Gary leaned closer, his grip tightening just enough to remind me he had control—over this moment and perhaps over me.

“You understand?” he murmured.

I nodded slightly, though it felt like betrayal. The laughter faded into background noise as reality closed in around me.

I slipped away from the bar, the laughter and chatter fading behind me like a distant memory. The restroom offered a moment of refuge, its cool marble floors a stark contrast to the heated exchange I had just endured. I leaned against the sink, taking a breath as I faced my reflection.

My long hair cascaded in soft waves over my shoulders, framing a face that felt foreign.

The makeup, perfectly applied earlier, now appeared smudged around my eyes.

I swiped at the corner of my eyeliner, willing the evidence of Gary’s grip to disappear.

My dress hugged my curves—a deep emerald green that shimmered under the fluorescent lights, making me feel beautiful and yet trapped.

The satin fabric clung to me like expectations; flattering but confining.

I studied myself closely, searching for signs of the good girl everyone knew—the one who always followed the rules.

But lately, those rules felt like chains. No more late nights with friends; no talking to men unless Gary was present; no life beyond him. Each day passed with an invisible weight pressing down on my chest.

The vows we spoke echoed in my mind—saving myself for marriage, something he insisted upon with fervor. Back then, I thought it was noble; something that would bind us closer together. But standing here now, staring into my own eyes, uncertainty churned in my stomach.

“Is this really what you want?” I whispered to myself, voice barely audible over the hum of the lights. The truth danced just out of reach—frustration mixing with confusion about who I had become in his world.

The door swung open behind me, and a couple of women strolled in, giggling and chatting as they adjusted their hair and makeup. Their carefree banter sliced through my thoughts like a hot knife through butter.

I forced a smile for them—one that didn’t quite reach my eyes—and stepped back from the sink as they took their places at the mirrors. A familiar tightening crept into my chest again; I should have been out there enjoying life with friends instead of feeling like a ghost at my own engagement party.

“Love your dress!” one of them said brightly as she flicked her hair over her shoulder.

“Thanks,” I replied automatically, but even that felt rehearsed—just another role I played too well. "You too!"

As they laughed and chatted among themselves, I caught a glimpse of freedom in their joy—so different from the suffocating expectations waiting for me outside this hideout.

I stepped out of the bathroom, drawing in a deep breath.

I could do this.

I could get through this.

But as soon as I crossed the threshold into the party again, my heart sank. Across the crowded room, I spotted my brother, Jake, leaning against the bar with Gary. They laughed like they shared a secret only they understood—heads thrown back, eyes sparkling.

Both men embodied the NHL’s golden boys: Jake’s tousled hair and laid-back charm balanced Gary’s polished image and sharp wit.

They appeared to fit together seamlessly, two pieces of a puzzle made for success.

My brother's laughter echoed through the clinking glasses and murmurs of conversation, creating an aura around them that drew others in.

They were unstoppable—best friends turned darlings of the league, reputations untarnished by anything or anyone. And then there was me, standing at the edge of their world like an outsider peering through glass.

A voice inside me screamed, This is not your life.

I felt invisible in their glow, and all I wanted was to shatter that pristine image just once. Just tonight.

As I watched them exchange jokes and pats on the back, I realized how deeply they both expected me to behave. Their smiles radiated confidence—confidence that my compliance was a given. But inside me stirred something wild and reckless, clawing to escape from beneath layers of propriety.

“Hey! Kennedy!” Jake called out suddenly, catching sight of me. He waved as if we hadn’t just shared a lifetime apart in mere moments. “Come over here!”

The laughter faded into a hum around me as I hesitated. Part of me wanted to sprint toward them; another part rooted me in place—a tug-of-war between loyalty and desire for freedom.

“Join us!” Gary chimed in, flashing that charming grin that usually melted my resolve but felt like ice tonight instead.

My heart raced at the thought of stepping into their world fully, being swept up in their banter while silently screaming for liberation from expectations that wrapped around me like vines choking out life itself.

Just for once… I wanted to be reckless.

I forced my feet to move, inching toward Jake and Gary as they exchanged playful jabs.

Apparently, it was perfectly fine to tease him in public, but God forbid, I did.

Their laughter boomed over the music, drawing me in like a moth to a flame.

I plastered on my best smile, the kind I knew they expected—the perfect fiancée.

“Hey!” I called out, feigning excitement as I joined them.

Gary turned, his eyes sparkling with that predatory gleam he wore when he was on display. He swept an arm around my waist, pulling me close enough that his warmth seeped into my skin.

“Look who decided to grace us with her presence,” he teased, nudging me with his shoulder.

I kept my mouth shut and smiled, even as a chill slithered down my spine at the warning look he shot me. His expression shifted just enough to make my stomach churn. The weight of expectations settled heavily on my shoulders; all I had to do was play along and look pretty.

I felt like a marionette—string pulled tight, movements rehearsed and predictable. As they bantered back and forth, I glanced around the room, feeling more like a ghost than part of the festivities.

When Gary’s attention drifted toward another player—a tall guy with an easy laugh—I seized the moment to slip away from him unnoticed. My heart raced as I navigated through the crowd, past clusters of people caught up in their own conversations and laughter.

The dimly lit corner of the party beckoned me with its promise of anonymity. A sleek bar stood against the wall, inviting me to escape into its shadows. My pulse quickened as I approached, each step fueling a growing sense of rebellion.

“Whiskey,” I said when the bartender caught my eye, a boldness igniting within me.

He raised an eyebrow but nodded as he poured a generous measure into a glass. The amber liquid swirled temptingly before me—a symbol of everything I had suppressed for too long.

I lifted it to my lips and downed it in one swift gulp. The burn exploded across my throat—sharp and exhilarating—as it coursed through me like fire igniting every nerve ending.

The bartender smirked as he set down the glass for another round. “Didn’t peg you as a whiskey girl.”

“Guess you don’t know me at all,” I shot back, daring myself to believe it. For that brief moment under the dim lights, I felt unseen yet alive—a spark of defiance against the chains that had bound me so tightly for far too long.

I savoured the burn of the whiskey, relishing how it washed over me like a tide of rebellion. Each sip sent warmth spiraling through my chest. Just for tonight, I could pretend to be someone else—someone free.

Lost in my thoughts, I leaned against the bar, feeling invisible and powerful all at once. A soft laugh bubbled up inside me as I considered what that would mean—what it would feel like to truly break away from the confines of being his fiancée. The world blurred into a haze around me.

Then, a deep, arrogant voice sliced through my reverie.

“Since when does a princess drink like that?”