32. Hudson
HUDSON
I leave Eva at my downtown apartment near the arena and head in early for morning skate.
Too early, maybe.
But I don’t trust myself alone with my thoughts right now.
The locker room is mostly empty when I get there, quiet except for the distant scrape of skates against concrete and the low hum of the ventilation system.
Nik is already inside.
He sits at his stall, lacing up his skates as he lives here. His massive shoulders hunch forward, and his tattoos vanish beneath the collar of his compression shirt.
His eyes lift when I walk in.
“You good?”
“Not yet,” I admit, dropping my bag beside my stall. “Thanks for the time off.”
His attention sharpens.
“We need your head back in the game.”
"It will be." I hesitate, rubbing the back of my neck. "I need a meeting."
Nik immediately looks suspicious.
“With you,” I add carefully. “And your wife.”
A long string of Russian leaves his mouth. Definitely not complimentary.
He switches back to English, clearly annoyed.
“What is with this fucking team lately?”
I wisely decide not to ask for clarification.
“Please,” I say instead.
Nik stares at me for a long moment, long enough to make the silence uncomfortable.
Finally, he exhales sharply.
"Fine. I’ll text you an address." He points a finger at me. "Nine p.m. Don’t be late or loud."
I feel some relief in my chest.
“Thank you.”
We finish changing while the rest of the guys start filtering into the locker room.
The noise picks up right away. Music blasts from a speaker, insults fly between stalls, and lockers slam so hard the walls shake.
Murphy strolls in like he owns the place and locks onto me instantly.
“Well, well,” he calls across the room. “Look who finally decided to show up.” He tosses his bag onto the bench. “How was your appendectomy, dickhead?”
I blink at him. “My… what?”
He grins. “Team said you had appendicitis. Emergency surgery. Very dramatic.”
I glance at Nik, who suddenly seems very focused on taping his stick.
“Yeah, no,” I say slowly. “That’s not?—”
Murphy gasps loudly. “Ohhh. Was it gonorrhea?”
Half the locker room starts laughing.
“Erectile dysfunction?” Murphy adds in a stage whisper. “Tragic at your age.”
“Fuck off,” I growl. “Asshole.”
“Aw, look at him.” Murphy clutches his chest dramatically. “He’s embarrassed. That confirms it.”
“I swear to God, Murphy?—”
“Curiosity is a burden I must bravely carry.”
A few guys snort nearby.
“None of your business,” Nik says from across the room without looking up from his gear. “Get to work.”
Murphy throws his hands into the air like he’s been personally victimized.
“Tyranny. Absolute tyranny.”
Then he wanders back toward his stall, still muttering to himself about “medical transparency” and “the public’s right to know.”
I shake my head and finish getting dressed.
Practice starts.
I skate.
I shoot.
I run drills.
My body goes through the motions. Years of practice let me move without thinking.
But mentally?
I’m nowhere near the ice.
Every few minutes, my mind drifts somewhere else entirely.
Back to Eva in my apartment.
Back to Lucian, trapped at the club.
Back to Martin.
Back to tonight.
Because somewhere between dragging Eva into this mess and bringing her back to the city, my entire life stopped feeling separate and organized.
Now everything runs together.
Hockey. Violence. Family. Eva.
One bad move, and it all comes crashing down.
* * *
When I get back to the apartment, Eva is curled up on the couch watching some aggressively dramatic reality show with a half-empty bag of chips in her lap.
She looks perfectly at home there.
And for some reason, that scares the hell out of me.
“How was practice?” she asks without looking away from the screen.
“Fine.” I head for the fridge and grab one of the protein smoothies lined up inside. “Where the hell did you even find chips?”
I let out a short laugh. “Those are probably ancient. I honestly can’t remember the last time I bought potato chips.”
“They’re stale,” she admits. “But your kitchen is basically just protein powder and sadness, so my options were limited.”
I snort despite myself.
“And I still have no phone, no wallet, and no money,” she adds with a shrug.
I feel a wave of guilt.
“Sorry,” I say quietly. “I’ll order groceries. Real food this time.”
That makes her look up.
She lowers the bag slowly, really looking at me for the first time since I walked in.
I must look worse than I realized, because her eyes narrow.
“What is it?”
I lean back against the counter and exhale slowly.
“We’re going to see Nik and his wife tonight.”
Her brows lift. “The Campisi woman?”
“Yeah.”
“And you think they’ll help?”
“I think it’s our best shot. Maybe a way out that doesn’t end with both of us dead.”
The television keeps blaring in the background, bright and ridiculous.
Eva reaches for the remote and mutes it.
* * *
Later that evening, we pull up outside the address Nik texted me.
Eva’s leg has been bouncing for the last five minutes straight.
I reach over and rest a hand on her thigh, stilling it gently.
“It’s going to be fine.”
She nods, but tension radiates off her anyway.
The property sits behind tall iron gates and old stone walls that show off serious wealth. A camera turns toward us as I give our names at the intercom.
A long pause follows.
Then the gates creak open slowly.
The driveway curves through a massive estate lined with bare winter trees and expensive black SUVs. We finally pull to a stop near the front entrance.
Nik opens the door before we even knock.
“Try not to say anything stupid,” he says as a greeting, and motions for us to follow him inside.
Nik leads us down a hallway into a library that could be straight out of a political thriller.
Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line the walls. Soft leather chairs sit arranged around a massive wooden desk near the fireplace.
I assume Nik’s going to sit behind the desk.
Instead, he stays near the wall while a slim, dark-haired woman walks into the room.
Beautiful.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
I recognize her from team events, but we’ve never been introduced.
She moves with the quiet confidence of someone who never has to ask to be in charge.
Then she sits behind the desk.
“Leanna Campisi,” she says smoothly.
Her dark eyes move to me first.
“And you’re Hudson Cross.” Then to Eva. “Eva Sorenson.”
We both nod.
“It’s nice to meet you officially,” I say carefully. “And thanks for seeing us.”
She inclines her head slightly. “I hear you returned just in time for the playoffs.”
“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck. “Appreciate the flexibility.”
Her attention shifts back to Eva, gaze sharp and assessing.
“I assume this has something to do with this fiery beauty?”
I glance toward Eva. She’d clearly taken the time to make herself feel human again.
Her red hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders. Makeup sharpens her blue eyes. The simple black dress and heels make her look polished and composed.
She looks like the woman she was before I pulled her into all of this.
The thought weighs on me.
“Yes,” I say finally.
And then I tell Leanna everything.
The truth sounds uglier out loud.
“My job was to retrieve a stolen weapons cache,” I explain. “The Saints were trying to sell it to a Russian buyer. Supposed to be quick and quiet. An exchange behind a bar.”
The room remains silent except for the crackle of the fireplace.
“When the deal started, I stepped outside and killed two Saints before they could react.” I exhale slowly. “The buyer panicked. Shots got fired. The third Saint went down. My backup team arrived and killed the buyer.”
Eva stays completely still beside me.
“She ran,” I continue quietly. “I caught her.”
Leanna watches me without interruption.
“Your original plan?” she asks.
“I was going to kill her.”
My words hang heavy in the room.
No one speaks for a second.
“But you didn’t,” Leanna says calmly. “You brought her to the Eagles instead.”
I nod once.
"I locked her up and told Martin I had her." Shame crawls beneath my skin. "He wanted to use her as leverage against the Saints and promised me I’d get my chance when the time came."
“And why was it important that you kill her personally?”
Because revenge is rot.
Grief turns into ugly things. I’ve spent years carrying ghosts.
“Her father ordered my mother’s death,” I say quietly. “Long time ago, but…”
Understanding flickers briefly across Leanna’s face.
Beside me, Eva shifts.
“As you can see,” she says dryly, “I’m still alive. Spoiler alert.”
The corner of Leanna’s mouth twitches faintly.
“I know a thing or two about falling in love with an enemy,” she says.
There’s that word again.
Love.
My chest tightens, but I force myself to stay focused.
“We want to take both clubs down,” I say. “The Saints and Eagles.”
That gets her full attention.
I tell her everything I know.
The trafficking.
The weapons.
The routes.
The warehouses.
The deals are happening inside Campisi’s territory.
That last detail changes the mood in the room.
Organized crime is territorial by nature. No one operates inside another family’s borders without consequences.
Leanna, who has remained almost impossibly unreadable through my entire confession, finally raises one perfectly arched eyebrow.
“They’re operating in our territory?” she asks calmly.
Her attention shifts toward Nik. “Can you confirm this?”
“I can,” he says immediately. “Give me a day or two.”
“Good.”
The single word carries quiet authority.
Then her gaze returns to me.
"In the meantime," she says, folding her hands on the desk, "what exactly is your plan?"
I lean forward slightly.
"I have a contact inside the FBI. I already sent files over. Evidence of trafficking and women moved overseas under the cover of outreach programs."
“And the Bureau?”
“They’re moving on it.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“Okay.” She doesn’t even blink. “Nik, warn our people.”
He nods once.
I keep talking before the silence gets too heavy.
“Eva’s going back for a short time.”
For the first time, Leanna’s attention cuts fully to Eva.
“And you think sending her back into that environment is wise?”
“No,” I say honestly. “I think it’s dangerous as hell.”
Eva’s hand brushes mine, steadying me before I can say something worse.
“But it’s my choice,” she says.
Leanna studies her for a long moment.
Eva doesn’t look away.
Finally, Leanna nods once. “Continue.”
“Her job is to create doubt inside the Saints,” I say. “Tell people what she learned and what happened to her. Make them question the organization before the Feds hit.”
Eva sits perfectly still beside me.
“She’ll make sure everyone knows her father let her disappear and did nothing while she was tortured.”
Nik’s expression darkens slightly.
“The goal,” I continue, “is chaos. Fear. Distrust. If enough people panic at the right time, they’ll start talking to save themselves.”
Leanna nods slowly, considering.
“And the Eagles?” she asks.
I hold her gaze.
“They’re already cracking.”
A beat passes.
“Martin’s been pushing too far,” I say, shaking my head. “It stopped being business a while ago. Now it’s ego.”
Nik shifts slightly.
“There’s already quiet resistance inside the club,” I continue. “Guys are keeping their heads down, waiting for the floor to collapse beneath him finally. Loyalty only stretches so far when the man in charge starts turning on his own.”
Leanna studies me carefully.
“And you think the club will simply allow that?”
“Not all of them,” I admit. “But enough.”
The leather chair creaks as I lean forward.
“One of his right-hand men, Donnelly, is done with him. He won’t say it out loud, but he stopped backing Martin months ago.” I pause. “And Alvarez, the adviser, is already preparing for fallout. Moving money. Shifting inventory.”
Nik’s brows lift slightly.
Leanna tilts her head.
“So you’re not walking in alone.”
“No,” I say. “I’m walking into a room where half the men already know something’s coming.”
“And you plan to be that.”
“Yeah.” One shoulder lifts slightly. “Call it timing.”
The corner of my mouth twitches.
“Pretty sure there’s nothing in my contract that prohibits me from killing a man who tortured the woman I?—”
The words die in my throat.
“—care about.”
Nik snorts. “No breach of contract there.”
Leanna doesn’t smile.
“What exactly do you want from us?” she asks. “Because I’m not interested in stepping into the middle of a bar fight.”
"I need support, somebody at my back when this goes sideways." My attention moves between her and Nik. "These guys are operating in your territory. I’m solving a problem you already have."
“It’s still self-serving,” she says evenly. “You’re not doing this out of civic responsibility.”
“No,” I admit.
Being honest feels easier now.
"I need to get my little brother out alive." My voice roughens. "And I need to protect Eva. I’ll do whatever it takes to make those two things happen."
Silence settles over the room again.
The fire crackles quietly nearby.
Leanna chews on her top lip as she thinks.
Finally, she nods.
“We’ll watch,” she says. “Provide limited support where necessary. But we will not involve ourselves in anything with federal visibility.”
Fair.
“Afterward,” she continues calmly, “we’ll reassess.”
I nod.
That’s more than I expected to get.
Leanna stands up from behind the desk.
Meeting over.
“Don’t die, Hudson,” she says as she straightens the sleeve of her blazer. “You’re useful to me on the ice.”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “Good to know where I rank.”
That gets the smallest hint of a smile before she turns and leaves.
Nik escorts us toward the front entrance in silence.
He opens the door and cold night air rushes in. He says quietly, “We’ve pulled many of our people out of bad situations over the years.”
His eyes settle on me for a moment.
Then he nods.
“Consider it done.”