Chapter Twenty
LUKE
The locker room stank—stale sweat and unspoken grudges clinging to the walls. I yanked my shirt over my damp hair and shut my locker with more force than necessary. It echoed, but no one called me on it.
Mila hadn’t said a word when I walked her back to Avery at the bonfire. Just that unreadable look in her eyes—uncertain if I was her enemy or her last line of defense. Hell, maybe I didn’t know either.
“King.” Jax tossed a rolled-up sock at my chest. “You planning to glare at the lockers all day or join the rest of us in pretending this place doesn’t suck?”
I caught the sock midair. “Funny.”
Chase leaned against the bench across from me, arms folded. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks. You’re glowing as always.”
Theo snorted. “Seriously though. You gonna tell us what’s up or keep brooding until you combust?”
I shrugged. “Nothing’s up.”
“I call bullshit,” Jax muttered.
He wasn’t wrong. Practice had been brutal. I’d pushed harder than anyone—faster drills, heavier hits, sharper checks. Coach didn’t say much, just narrowed his eyes and let me work it out on the ice. He knew better than to ask. Everyone did. Except my crew.
I dropped onto the bench and leaned forward, elbows on my knees, voice low. “Logan couldn’t take his eyes off her in gym class.”
Jax swore. Chase’s posture went still.
“Something’s brewing.” Elise’s smirk when I walked past her told me more than she probably wanted me to know.
“He touch her again?” Chase asked.
“No.” My voice was flat. Final. “He won’t.”
We all knew that wasn’t the end of it, though.
Not with Elise whispering in ears and Logan acting as if he had something to prove.
The two of them were toxic as hell. And Mila was their favorite target because she didn’t flinch.
She made them look small just by standing tall.
And because Elise thought Mila had something that should’ve been hers—me.
“I think it’s time we do something,” Jax said.
I looked up. “It is. What are you thinking?”
“We need to put Logan in his place.” Jax’s eyes narrowed. “Publicly.”
That was what I’d already planned to do, and vocalized enough.
“Too messy,” Chase countered. “That’s what Elise wants—make Mila look like the drama.”
I studied Chase. He wasn’t concerned for Mila—it was his sister.
He was worried Avery would be a target. Or worse, collateral damage.
We would never let that happen. Especially Jax.
Whoever had hurt Avery last year left scars we all carried.
Chase most of all. Avery had been a shell back then, and her brother never forgot it.
“We’re already in it,” I said. “Might as well stop pretending we’re not.”
Theo crossed his arms. “Tori said Elise’s been asking around about Mila’s old schools. Trying to dig something up.”
“Let her,” I said. “There’s nothing there.
” The words came out easy, automatic. But memory flickered—Mila in calculus, head bent, sketching in the margin of her notes instead of listening.
Not doodles. Real drawings. Beautiful, precise, and alive.
I’d caught myself staring longer than I should have.
Elise could dig all she wanted. The girl she was looking for—the one she thought Mila had to be—wasn’t who I’d seen in those lines.
Chase shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Truth isn’t what she cares about—it’s the story she can spin.”
I didn’t respond. He was right. Elise never needed facts. Just an audience.
Jax leaned back, kicking his feet up. “We’ve been letting this ride too long. Time to turn the game on them.”
Theo looked at me. “You’re the captain. You make the call.”
Silence stretched. The kind that presses on your ribs and makes you feel as though you're about to drown. I ran a hand through my hair. “We need to be smart. Logan’s stupid enough to mess up on his own—we just need to give him enough rope.”
Chase raised an eyebrow. “You want to bait him?”
“Not bait,” I said. “Just… give him an opportunity to reveal himself.”
Jax grinned. “Now that’s the Luke I know.”
“Keep it quiet. Subtle,” I added. “As for Elise, we let her think she’s ahead. That’s when she’ll get sloppy.”
Theo cracked his knuckles. “Tori hears anything, I’ll know.”
“And if Logan makes another move?” Chase asked.
I didn’t hesitate. “Then I break his fucking face.”
The others nodded. Our mutual understanding was forged through years of blood, blades, and silent loyalty.
As we grabbed our gear and headed toward the exit, my phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Drew.
Family dinner. Tomorrow. Don’t bail this time.
My jaw locked. Another performance in the empire they pretended was a family. My parents didn’t play house—they ran it as a joint operation, cold and calculated. Love never factored into the equation. Power did. Image did.
I didn’t respond to Drew’s message.
As we stepped out into the crisp evening air, I glanced toward the rink—empty now, lights off, but still charged with memory.
I told myself this wasn’t really about Mila.
That I was just protecting the team. Keeping the power where it belonged—with us.
That Elise and Logan were problems I needed to solve. But even I didn’t believe that anymore.