Chapter 30 Kai
He considers not going. Considers a lot of things, actually. Faking food poisoning. Having his agent call with some manufactured crisis. Just not showing up and dealing with the consequences later.
But he goes. Because he always goes. Some part of him, the part that’s still seven years old and desperate for approval, can’t help but respond when Doyle Callahan calls.
The conservatory is exactly as he remembers it. His father is standing by the window, he doesn’t turn when Kai enters.
Oh please. Always this stupid pose.
“Close the door,” Doyle says.
Kai closes it. The click echoes in the vast space.
For a long moment, his father says nothing. Just stands there looking out at imported Japanese maples. Kai stays near the door, his hands in his pockets, trying to look casual.
“God has seen fit to punish me twice.” His father’s voice is low, emotionless. A statement of fact rather than grief. “First, by taking my true heir. And second, by leaving me with you.”
The words land like they always do, a familiar poison that Kai should be immune to by now but isn’t. His throat tightens. He forces his voice to stay light, bored. “We both know I’m not fit to run your empire, Dad. I’m sure you have a plan that doesn’t involve me disappointing you further.”
“That is correct,” his father says. He turns then. “But you will be made suitable.”
Kai’s stomach drops. This isn’t the usual lecture. There’s something different in his father’s voice. Something darker.
“Come here.”
Kai’s feet move before his brain engages, crossing the expanse of expensive flooring until he’s standing close enough to smell his father’s cologne.
His father turns the large monitor on his desk, revealing an open file.
Photos. Timelines. Personal information. Travel schedules. Practice locations. The name of Nazar’s grandmother. The address of her house in the suburbs.
It is a file on Nazar Rykov.
Kai’s blood turns to ice.
“I’m not going to comment on this,” his father says, his voice dry and rustling.
“I know you think you’re smarter than everyone else, Kaisyn.
That you’re subtle. That no one notices.
” He taps the screen with one manicured finger.
“I have tolerated a great deal from you. Your scandals. Your attitude. Your deliberate choices to embarrass this family. A great deal.”
He pauses, and the silence is crushing.
“But I will not tolerate this. You know exactly what I mean. So I will say it simply: stop it. Or Nazar Rykov’s career will be over.”
The world tilts sideways.
Kai can’t speak. Can’t breathe. His lungs have forgotten how to function. His father is a man who can erase people. Just another obstacle removed. Another problem solved with money and influence and carefully placed phone calls.
He’s done it to countless others. Competitors. Whistleblowers. Anyone who threatened the Callahan empire. Made their lives simply… disappear. Careers ended. Reputations destroyed. People reduced to cautionary tales.
And now he has his sights on Nazar.
“There’s nothing—” Kai’s voice comes out strangled. He tries again. “We’re just teammates. Former teammates. There’s nothing—”
“Don’t insult my intelligence.” His father’s voice doesn’t rise. It doesn’t need to. “I have photographs, Kaisyn. Video. From multiple sources. Hotel security footage. A very interesting photo from a Super Bowl party in Los Angeles. Shall I continue?”
Kai feels like he’s falling. Like the floor has opened up beneath him and he’s plummeting through space.
“What do you want?” The words come out flat. Defeated.
“You were reckless getting involved with another high-profile person. Now you need to remember what the consequences are. I want you to be responsible. And I know that you can be responsible. So you are perfectly aware of what you need to do.” Doyle closes the file with a soft click.
“How?”
“That’s your concern.” His father finally looks at him directly.
“You have three weeks. Then the dossier goes to certain individuals who would be very interested in its contents. Team owners. League officials. Sponsors who might reconsider their investments in players with such… liability. I will talk with right people about Rykov.”
“You’d destroy someone’s career because—” Kai can’t even finish the sentence.
“I would protect my family’s interests. As I always have.” Doyle turns back to the window, dismissing him. “You’re free to go.”
Kai walks out of the conservatory on legs that feel disconnected from his body. The hallway is too bright after the dim light inside.
He fumbles for his sunglasses—those overpriced Persols he bought in Milan—but they slip through his numb fingers and clatter on the marble floor.
He leaves them there. Evelyn will probably find them later, return them to him with a look of sympathy she’ll never voice.
He makes it to his car before the shaking starts. Sits in the driver’s seat of his Taycan with the doors locked and his forehead pressed against the steering wheel, trying to breathe through the panic.
He will not let this happen.
The thought crystallizes with sudden, absolute clarity. He will not let his father destroy Nazar. Will not let the Callahan empire claim another victim.
He thinks of Nazar’s fierce, determined eyes. The way he climbed a building because Kai needed him. The way he held Kai in the shower and promised he wasn’t alone.
He thinks of Nazar’s brother—a man he only knows from Nazar’s story. Another person destroyed by Doyle Callahan’s need for control.
The feeling that rushes through him is so powerful it eclipses everything else. Grief. Anger. Fear. Self-preservation. It all burns away, leaving just one unshakeable truth:
He loves him.
He’s in love with Nazar Rykov.
And there is no hiding from it anymore. No deflecting with sarcasm or running away or pretending it’s just physical. He loves him. Loves him enough to destroy himself to keep him safe.
The realization should feel freeing. Instead it feels like a cage closing around him.
Because loving Nazar means protecting him.
Kai starts the car and drives home on autopilot, his mind already calculating. Planning. Figuring out how to destroy the one good thing in his life before his father does it for him.
* * *
The first games of the new season are a blur.
Kai’s team is winning. Playing on autopilot, a machine running on pure adrenaline and a steely resolve that feels like armor welded directly to his bones.
He doesn’t reply to Nazar’s messages.
They start coming in after every game. Terse at first, then increasingly concerned.
Nazar: good game tonight
Nazar: saw that assist in the third. beauty
Nazar: you playing through something? looked like you were favoring your shoulder
Nazar: Vancouver soon. i’m already counting down
Kai reads them all. Saves them. Reads them again at night when he can’t sleep. Then deletes them one by one, his thumb hesitating over each one before pressing delete with the finality of an execution.
The silence is a shield. A necessary, brutal kindness.
Nazar doesn’t know what’s coming. Doesn’t know that every day Kai doesn’t respond is another day he’s keeping him safe from Doyle Callahan’s reach.
The game against Comets is scheduled for a Friday night. National broadcast.
Kai throws up twice before warm-ups.
On the ice, he can’t look at Nazar. Can’t meet his eyes during the national anthem. Can’t acknowledge the way Nazar’s gaze follows him during warm-ups, questioning and intense.
The game is vicious. Chippy. Both teams playing angry, physical hockey that teeters on the edge of acceptable. The refs are letting them play, which means everyone’s taking liberties.
Second period. Kai has the puck along the boards, trying to chip it past a Comets defenseman.
He doesn’t see the hit coming until it’s too late.
The impact is massive. A hit from behind that sends him careening face-first into the boards.
His teeth jar together. His shoulder screams.
The world whites out for a second, pain and shock overwhelming his nervous system.
When his vision clears, he’s on his hands and knees on the ice. Blood in his mouth. His shoulder is on fire.
Then he hears it.
A roar. Primal. Inhuman. The sound of something breaking.
He pushes himself up, his head swimming, and sees chaos erupting behind him.
Nazar has dropped his gloves. Has thrown himself at his fucking own teammate, the defenseman who hit Kai. They’re on the ice in a tangle of limbs, Nazar’s fists connecting with solid, meaty thuds.
“Rykov! What the fuck!” Someone’s screaming. Multiple teammates trying to pull him off.
Kai feels like he’s hallucinating. This can’t be real. Nazar Rykov — disciplined, controlled Nazar who never takes stupid penalties — is fighting his own teammate.
The refs intervene. Whistles shrieking. Nazar is hauled to his feet by three different players, his face twisted with protective fury that Kai has never seen before.
Their eyes meet across the ice. Just for a second.
Nazar’s expression shifts from rage to concern so quickly it’s like watching someone change channels. His mouth moves, forming words Kai can’t hear: You okay?
Kai looks away first. Has to. Can’t bear the weight of that care.
The medical staff is at his side, asking questions he answers automatically. Checking his pupils. Testing his shoulder mobility. He waves them off. Nothing broken, just pain he can skate through.
But he’s not feeling the pain in his shoulder. He’s in the grip of a full-blown panic attack, the arena air turning thin and sharp in his lungs.
Nazar just assaulted his own teammate. On national television. He’ll be suspended. Fined. His reputation as a disciplined player, destroyed. All because of Kai.
All because Kai couldn’t protect him from this. From himself.
Later, in the quiet of his hotel room, the messages start coming in.
Nazar: text me that you’re okay
Nazar: they say you weren’t taken to hospital
Nazar: is it your shoulder again? same one from before?