Chapter Eight
LUKE
Several days passed. Mila and Avery got close again—too close for Chase’s liking. He didn’t say it, but it showed. The fists curling when they laughed in the hallway. The way his eyes tracked Mila when she wasn’t looking, sharp with dread.
It wasn’t about jealousy. Not that kind of thing. Chase just didn’t want Avery dragged into something she couldn’t climb out of. He didn’t trust Mila not to disappear again. Not to hurt his sister.
And I got it. Because I didn’t trust her either. But it wasn’t that simple.
None of us said it out loud, but we all felt it—pieces shifting on a chessboard we couldn’t fully see. Someone else was moving them, and sooner or later, we would be forced to play.
I hated it. Because the minute I moved onto that board, I stepped into my father's world. The one built on silence, shadows, and power plays. The one where he’d ordered me to stay the hell away from Mila.
The one I’d been trying to outrun since I was old enough to realize what the King name actually meant.
When Dad or Lorne wanted something, people got hurt. I wasn’t a good guy, far from it. But what they did? That was something I’d dreaded stepping into.
But maybe I was already in it. Maybe I always had been. The slip of paper with Lorne’s signature okaying the sale of the boardwalk building seemed like a segue in, as well as Drew’s hint that Dad was stressed and they needed me there sooner rather than later.
Mila being back only made it worse. She was in classes with at least one of us. Easy to keep tabs on and watch. And I did. Constantly.
At first it was surveillance. Resentment.
Every time I saw her, I thought about what we had been—what we could’ve been—and how she’d ripped that away without explanation.
But the longer she stayed, the more it twisted into something else.
She wasn’t flinching under Elise’s games.
She wasn’t playing the victim. And damn if it didn’t piss me off that she still had that fire.
The kind that burned slow, dangerous, and permanent. She hadn’t broken. And that, somehow, made me want to push her even more.
In last class, her hair slid over one shoulder, leaving her neck bare.
No silver chain. No charm. Just skin where the necklace used to rest, right against her collarbone.
My jaw locked. It didn’t matter how much I told myself I didn’t give a damn—it still felt like a punch.
A gap that didn’t just mark what was missing—it reminded me who’d taken it away.
After last period, I barely made it to my locker before Elise appeared. She leaned against the metal, all cool composure and silent threat, clearly waiting. Her perfume clung to the air—sweet, heady, and all wrong.
“You know,” she purred, voice silky, “I could’ve helped you.”
I didn’t even glance at her, just played the game like Dad wanted. “With what?”
Her smile sharpened, all teeth—as if she’d already marked the kill. “The version of the story people hear about her.” She stepped closer, her hip brushing mine, intentional. “You and me—we worked. We could again. Make it official, and maybe I’ll forget the Mila crap never happened.”
I stared at her, hollow. “We were never together. You were a warm body. That was it.”
Elise’s smirk didn’t falter. She was too trained for that. “Maybe. But that’s not what people remember. And I can remind them, if you want her gone. Just stop pretending you don’t care about that. Or someone else will handle it. And it won’t be pretty.”
There it was. The veiled threat. The test. She wanted to see if I still cared. If she could twist it into leverage. Elise never made a move unless she could collect later. She was clueless in one thing—I was never interested in her, and that wasn’t going to change with Mila here or not.
I stepped in close, voice low. “You need to back off. You don’t know what you’re stepping into.”
Her fingers danced along the locker handles, nails clicking, a timer counting down. “Suit yourself. But if she keeps overstepping her worth, she won’t last long here.” She looked back once, eyes shining like broken glass. “You’ll come around. You always do. And when you do, I’ll still be here.”
She walked off like she hadn’t just started a fire. I stood there, teeth grinding, until the bell shrieked above and the crowd thinned.
Practice didn’t help. I hit the ice, pushed harder than usual. But I still couldn’t skate off the bitterness she’d left behind. By the time we got to the locker room, I was raw. My gear peeled off like a second skin, sweat soaking into the rubber floors.
Chase muttered to himself as he shoved stuff into his bag. “Gotta keep an eye on Avery next game. She keeps talking to these guys like—”
Jax’s head snapped up. “Who?”
We always wondered which guy had wrecked Avery enough to make her shrink like she had. That was why we watched so closely. Why Chase lost his mind about anyone circling his sister.
The tension crackled, a snapped cable. Chase turned slowly. “You got something to say?”
Theo stilled, his dirty blond hair slicked back from sweat, eyes bouncing between them.
Jax rolled his shoulders, casually, but his voice was clipped. “Just wondering if it was someone from Crestview. Something we need to handle.” His jaw was a steel trap.
The two locked eyes, and for a second, I thought Jax might throw down right there. But Chase muttered something under his breath and looked away. Interesting.
We finished packing in silence. Once outside, we decided to grab food.
Nothing major—just a place with decent burgers not far from the arena.
As we rolled into the parking lot, Avery’s car was already there, parked under a flickering sign.
Through the window, I spotted her in a booth.
Mila was there too—along with two other girls Avery usually hung out with.
They were laughing. Mila’s head tilted back, her gray-green eyes bright. For a second, something in my chest tugged sideways.
Chase saw it too. He exhaled, tension rolling off his shoulders. “At least Avery’s smiling again. Before everything implodes.”
I didn’t say anything. They knew about what Elise had said. We were waiting, watching. Even with all that, my gut clenched at the sight of Mila. I remembered that smile. I remembered how it used to be for me.
And maybe—stupid as it was—part of me wanted to deserve that smile again. But this world didn’t allow fragile things. Not with Elise scheming. Not with Dad watching. Not with danger closing in on the people I couldn’t stop thinking about.
I stepped out of the car, hands in my pockets, and watched Mila from across the lot. She didn’t see me. But I saw her. And I wasn’t sure if I was guarding her from the world. Or from myself.