Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
Own goal - When a team accidentally causes the puck to enter its own net, resulting in a goal for the opposing team.
Phoenix
I didn’t remember running down the stairs. Or the sidewalk. Or the street. All I knew was the cold—sharp and wet and cutting at my face—and the sound of my own breath tearing out of my chest like something animal.
Get out.
The words kept replaying in my skull, scraping me raw.
Cole’s face—hurt, stunned, betrayed—burned behind my eyes. His voice, quiet, devastated, echoed in my ears. “You let me think you chose me.”
My stomach twisted so hard I thought I might vomit right there on the pavement. I stumbled to the next block, barely aware of the traffic or the people or anything except the weight of the envelope in my hands.
The money felt like it weighed ten pounds. Like it was pulling me under. I kept walking until my legs threatened to give out. Until the cold soaked through my shirt. Until my fingers went numb.
The Avalon rose out of the snow like it always did—too bright, too polished, a place I’d only ever walked into because Ricky worked the bar.
I didn’t even remember making the choice to go there; my feet just took over, pulling me block after block toward the one person I still thought I might be able to help.
The lobby lights were harsh after the dark streets, and I felt strangely exposed as I crossed the marble floor, the envelope burning hot in my pocket.
I found Ricky in his usual place behind the bar, cutting fruit.
He looked up the moment I approached, and his expression shifted instantly from neutral fatigue to alarm.
“Phoenix? Christ, man, you look—are you okay?”
I didn’t answer his question. If I tried, everything inside me would unravel. Instead, I pulled the envelope from my pocket and held it out because it was poison to me and this way it would do some good.
“I need to give you something,” I said, the words tumbling out too fast. “Just—take it.”
Ricky frowned, confused, until I pushed the envelope into his hands. He opened it, peeled back the flap, and went still. His eyes shot to mine.
“The hell?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It’s a lot of cash.”
“I know.”
His voice dropped. “Is this from Cole?”
A wild, humorless sound escaped me—something like a laugh if a laugh could be broken in half. I forced myself onward. “You need to move. Get your family out. Somewhere safer. Don’t ask questions. Please, Ricky—just take it.”
He stared at the envelope as if it were something dangerous. “Phoenix, this is too much. We can’t accept this.”
“You can,” I said, voice fraying. “And you will. Please.”
He looked at the cash again, then back at me, his face softening. “Before you try to push this at me again, you need to hear something.”
“I don’t care—”
“You do,” he said gently. “So listen.”
I dragged my hands over my face, exhausted. “Ricky, I really can’t—”
“Sarah’s grandma died,” he said quietly. “She passed last week. She left her house to us.”
It took a second for the words to sink in. “Her…house?”
“Paid off,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “Two acres. Out in Park County. Five bedrooms. Sarah hasn’t stopped crying since we got the call. There's a job for me, but we won't even need to worry about Sarah working while Liam's small."
Something small and wounded clawed up from my chest.
“We’re moving next week,” Ricky added. “I was going to call you today after work. You don’t need to save us. We’re already okay.”
The floor tilted—actually tilted—and I reached blindly for the counter, catching the edge to keep myself upright. Ricky stepped forward quickly.
“Phoenix? Hey—what’s going on?”
“I didn’t need…” The words scraped out of me. “I didn’t need to take the money.”
Ricky’s eyes widened with dawning horror. “This isn't from Cole?”
“I didn’t hurt anyone.” My voice cracked open completely. Tears blurred my vision before I could stop them. “I didn’t steal. Someone offered…and he said your family—he said if I didn’t—”
“Someone threatened my family?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I whispered. My hands shook violently. “It doesn’t matter because you’re safe. You’re safe, and I didn’t—God, Ricky—I didn’t need to take it. I didn’t need to do anything he asked. You were already safe. You were already—”
“Phoenix.” He appeared in front of me, gripping my shoulders to steady my shaking. “Tell me what’s going on. Right now.”
But I couldn’t.
Every word hurt. Every breath burned. Every thought spiraled back to the same image—Cole’s face going cold, his voice breaking as he said:
You let me think you chose me.
The sound that tore out of me wasn’t really a sob; it was too jagged for that. Ricky startled at the rawness of it.
“Phoenix—hey—are you hurt? Did someone—”
I shook my head hard, tears slipping down my cheeks unchecked. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t.
The worst part wasn’t losing Cole. The worst part was knowing I’d earned it. I forced out a single, wrecked sentence. “I ruined everything.”
“Phoenix, wait—hold on— We have a room for you. There's loads of space.”
But I was already pulling away, stumbling to my feet. I pushed the envelope at him. “I’m sorry,” I choked, backing toward the lobby doors. “I just—I’m sorry.” I didn’t wait for him to stop me. I didn’t look back.
I ran.
Through the lobby, past the glass doors, into the freezing air that sliced at my lungs. I ran until my chest burned and my legs shook, until the world blurred and my breath came out in broken gasps.
The money was gone. Ricky was safe. But none of it mattered in the end because I had traded the only good thing I had for a threat that never should have touched me in the first place.
And now I had nothing.
Not Cole.
Just the knowledge that I had destroyed us before we ever truly began.
I didn’t know I’d walked to Ignatius’s neighborhood until I got there.
I didn’t remember crossing half the city.
All I knew was that my feet hurt, my fingers were numb, and when I finally looked up, the house in front of me was Ignatius’s—dark stone, sharp lines, the kind of place that looked carved out of old power.
The porch light glowed faintly, like it had been left on for someone else entirely.
I didn’t belong here, but my body moved anyway through the open gate, carrying me up the steps before I fully understood where I was. My hand lifted and knocked once, twice, without permission from my brain. The door opened almost immediately.
Ignatius stood there in a charcoal coat, a suitcase at his side. Doryu was behind him, adjusting a scarf, both men mid-conversation—until they saw me.
“Phoenix?” Ignatius’s voice dropped, not in anger but in that razor-edged concern he used almost as if I was bleeding. Which I was.
Doryu stepped closer. “You’re shaking. Come inside before you fall over.”
“I—I’m fine,” I lied, badly. My teeth were chattering. “I just—didn’t know where else to go.”
Ignatius simply reached out and steadied me by the shoulders. “Tell me what happened.”
The moment he touched me, everything that had been holding me upright crumbled.
The story cracked out of me in broken pieces—Cole finding the envelope, his face when he saw the money, the way he told me to leave, how I ran to the Avalon and gave the cash to Ricky, only to learn Ricky never needed protection in the first place.
“And the man who gave you this money?” Ignatius asked, voice eerily calm.
“He said he worked for—” My breath hitched. “For Cole’s father.” I paused. Or had he?
Ignatius’s expression sharpened instantly, gaze slicing through the air like a blade. “No,” he said flatly. “Absolutely not.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I said no,” he repeated, as if the idea itself insulted him.
“Wells may be many things—cowardly, cruel, obsessed with control—but he is not subtle. If he wanted to ruin Cole or manipulate him, he’d do it openly or through lawyers he owns, not by hiring some stranger to bribe the man Cole is sleeping with.
He would make you disappear, not encourage you to stay. ”
Doryu nodded thoughtfully. “He also wouldn’t risk leaving a trail that implicates him in blackmail. If he wanted information, he’d extract it through intimidation, not money.”
“So—so you don’t think…” I swallowed hard. “You don’t think this man works for him?”
Ignatius let out a sharp, soundless breath—not quite a laugh, not quite a growl.
“Phoenix, if Wells really knew who you were to Cole, he’d have buried you, not shoved cash into your hand and told you to spy.
Wells is many terrible things, but he is predictable.
” His eyes narrowed. “This man is not him. This was someone else’s game. ”
“That doesn’t make it better,” I whispered.
“No,” Ignatius said. “It makes it far more concerning.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t want any of this. I thought I was protecting Ricky and—Cole thinks I used him.” He was right.
Ignatius’s voice softened, though only slightly. “Cole does not hate you.”
“He told me to leave.”
“He told you to leave because he was wounded. And dragons—bound or unbound—do not handle betrayal well.” Ignatius paused, then added with quiet certainty, “He will regret his reaction.”
“I ruined everything,” I whispered. “You didn’t see his face.”
"This is what you were going to tell me after the All-Star?"
I nodded, misery stifling any words.
Doryu stepped beside us, looping his scarf fully now, as if preparing for the next move. “We were just leaving for the airport,” he said gently. “All-Star weekend.”
“I know,” I said. “He doesn’t want me anywhere near him.”
Ignatius snorted, the sound elegant and deeply unimpressed. “Want has nothing to do with need. And Cole Armstrong needs you whether he can stand to admit it right now or not.”
“Ignatius—”
He cut me off with a simple, commanding gesture. “You are coming with us.”
“I—what?”