Chapter 62
KAI
Before my first hockey game, there was one rule I was told never to forget: Whatever happens beyond the ice stays off the ice.
But tonight, all our grief and pent-up rage storms out.
Ice kicks up as Rowan and a Viper topple over each other. Rowan scrambles onto his skates and passes the puck. A Viper intercepts it. I skate hard towards them.
“Merde!”
I smash into the plexiglass, dropping onto the ice. A Viper laughs above me. Blood, fresh and metallic, drips from my lips. I glare up at him. But no whistle sounds. The referees don’t make a call, and the game keeps on going.
I shakily wipe the blood off my mouth and push myself back up. The Vipers’ left winger takes off with the puck. I charge after him. My shoulder shoves his. With a bang, the Viper slams into the boards, and I wrest the puck back.
“Fuck you!”
A swarm of Vipers throw themselves at me, grabbing at my jersey, their fists striking at my helmet. I dodge their hits, as other Griffins shove them back.
Simon lunges at me. “So, that’s how you wanna play, mutt?”
I shove him back. “Tell your boys to go home if they can’t take a hit like that!”
The whistle blows.
“That’s enough, boys!” Linesmen come to cleave us apart. “Step back! All of you!”
I fight to catch my shaking breath as I back away from the Vipers.
A referee skates to the front.
“Number seventy-eight: Kainoa Mason-Maiau.” He extends his arm to the side and clenches his fist. “Two minute penalty for roughing.”
My vision goes red. “Are you fucking kidding?”
“Come on, buddy.”
The linesmen usher me off the ice. I shrug their hands away and point at the blood running down my chin.
“Look at my face!”
“Let’s go—”
“Look at my fucking face!” I shout. “I didn’t have possession of the puck, I got body checked back there, and you did nothing!”
They push me into the penalty box and shut the door. My anger snaps. I swing my stick against the wall.
We’re losing to the Vipers. We’ve given everything we got on the ice, but there’s not a single strategy out there that’s cunning enough to handle biased referees.
When my time is up, I skate onto the ice again. I watch as Jonas takes the puck and skates towards the net. Marinelli, Viper #20, swoops towards him in the opposite direction.
He knocks Jonas’ knee.
“Jonas!” I scream out.
He drops to the ice.
My gut churns as the whistle blows.
The game stops. Every player pauses. Except one.
“Luke, no!”
Luke flings off his gloves and punches Marinelli. Blood rips from the Viper’s lips. But Luke doesn’t stop. He throws punch after punch with angry tears streaming down his face.
“Luke, that’s enough!” Rowan shouts. “He’s done!”
The referee cleaves them apart. Vipers fans boo Luke from the stands. He doesn’t even notice because his eyes are glassy with tears as they glare at Viper #20 lying limp at his skates.
Rowan grabs Luke’s jersey and shakes him. “Are you fucking crazy? You can’t give out punches like that!”
“It was him!” Luke cries out. So much anger and pain rips through his voice that Rowan eases up a little.
He furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”
“He was one of the guys who beat up Wallace!” Luke yells. “Mikhalkov told me—”
“Breathe.” I cup Luke’s trembling face. Worry kills all my rage when I notice he’s practically vibrating against my touch. “Jesus fuck. You’re shaking, man.”
Luke sags into my chest with a whimper. “It’s my fault that Wallace got hurt.”
“No, it’s not,” I fight back.
“Yes, it is!” Luke shoves my hands away. “I pissed off Marinelli at the party and that’s why he went after Wallace!”
“He has no idea you and Wallace are friends!” I stress. “Marinelli would’ve beat him up anyway because that’s what the Vipers wanted to do. It was never your fault, Luke.”
The referee skates towards the front. He extends his arms out and bumps his fists together twice. “Number fourteen, Luke King, game disqualification for fighting.”
“Putain.”
Unlike the NHL, you can’t fight in the NCAA. It’s too much of a risk to let student athletes deliberately throttle each other when they’re fighting to cinch a degree.
Rowan curses under his breath. His jaw tenses, as his gloved hands flex in and out at his sides.
“Whatever happens next, just do what you’re told. Got it?”
I nod. “Got it.”
None of it matters, though.
The game ticks down to twelve seconds. I manage to wrest the puck back in our possession and race towards the net. Their defensemen surge up on me, knocking me down to the ice. The timer runs out and the Vipers win 2-1.
I swallow hard. The roar of Vipers fans surrounds me. Their cheering fades out as I skate back towards the tunnel.
Don’t look up. Don’t look up.
But I do and I wish I never did. Matthias points at me, as he talks with the general managers.
They rub their jaws and shake their heads in disappointment.
I don’t know what the hell he’s saying to them, but I know his opinion and what they saw on the ice tonight was enough to solidify their perception of me: I’m not worth recruiting.
“Good game, mutt!”
My jaw tenses as I look over my shoulder. Simon approaches me with sweat slicking off his smug grin.
I ignore him and keep on skating back to the tunnel.
“Oh, come on,” he cackles. “Don’t be like that! Everyone loses here and there. Although, maybe not in front of a bunch of general managers. I did warn you, though.”
My nostrils flare before I whip around. “You can cut the bullshit, Simon. I know you and your dad planned all of this.”
Simon laughs, touching a hand to his heart. “Well, I’m flattered you think I’m that big of a mastermind.”
“You won, alright? Go celebrate with your team.”
“Is that it? Is that all you have to say?”
The words tremble on my tongue. I swallow them back. “We’re done here.” I turn my back on him and keep skating towards the tunnel.
“Man, it all makes sense why no one’s wanted you since first year.”
I grind to a stop.
Don’t do it, Kai. Don’t say it.
“It makes sense why you lost everything so goddamn easily. It’s because you’re weak.
” Simon stands behind me now. Spittle flies and jabs my neck with every word he spits out.
“Everyone thinks you’re this star player, but I know deep down, you’re just a pathetic little bitch who can’t handle the weight of what he wants. ”
I snap around and shove him back.
“You have everything!” I explode. “Why do you keep trying to break me? When is it ever going to be enough for you?”
“When I stop seeing mutts like you on the ice!” Simon snarls.
Pure, unbridled hate burns on his face and flashes in his eyes.
“I wanted tonight to be clear,” he hisses. “No matter how many times you get back up, how hard you try, at the end of the day, mutts like you don’t fucking belong here.”
All the fight in my bones die out.
I used to think if I worked hard enough, I could prove to people that I’m capable of keeping up with the names who dominated this industry. But they don’t always see my work ethic as competence. Everything I do, everything I represent is seen as a threat and I’m so fucking tired of it.
I duck my head and skate through the tunnel to follow the rest of the boys into the locker room. Angry tears fall down my face, blurring the world around me. I’m angry at Simon and Matthias Valdis. Angry that I’m letting them get under my skin like this.
Through the cracks, every other voice that doubts me starts crashing in.
You’re not rare. You’re just another na?ve kid who thinks he deserves more than he’s actually worth.
No matter how many times you get back up, how hard you try, at the end of the day, mutts like you don’t fucking belong here.
DIANA
For the last several weeks, āgōng has dwindled into a quiet ghost whose expectations still haunt the mansion.
A maid sits beside him at the dinner table, patiently shoveling little spoonfuls of porridge into his mouth.
“Diana, how’s the joint project coming along?” Jonathan asks. He cocks his head, as he runs his finger over his napkin. “Hope you’re not struggling with it.”
Even though he desperately wants me to be struggling, things have been wonderful with the joint project.
I’ve learned so much about climate change and sexism in science that it reminds me of why I fell in love with reporting in the first place.
You walk into a story learning something new and the world around you suddenly feels so much bigger.
I glare back at Jonathan, my voice coming out taut. “We just finished finalizing scripts for the podcast and the documentary, as well as revisions to the long form piece.”
Bàba strikes down his wine glass, making the table jolt.
“I want to see a copy of those before it goes further,” he demands. “You’ve grown rather soft over these last few weeks, and it’s made me wonder if it influenced your work.”
I struggle to swallow past the pressure digging into my chest. “Well, I—”
“I’ve been noticing that, too.” Gregory stabs into a roasted potato and pops it into his mouth. “It makes me wonder what kind of people you’re surrounding yourself with, Diana.”
I want to wring both of their necks.
After the truth broke out, Jonathan and Gregory quietly receded into obscurity under bàba’s commands. They narrowly evaded getting strangled by fangirls because Sasha Vellair recently announced that she’s going back on tour.
That leaves all eyes on me.
Except eyes don’t give you a vote of confidence. People don’t see Diana Huang the shrewd reporter, the resilient news leader. They only see Diana Huang, the manipulated, the victim, and they’re only searching for more opportunities to pry into me rather than uplift me.
The scrutiny I face in front of the cameras is the same kind I experience at home and I’m so tired of it.
“I surround myself with the people who will help me secure the CEO vote,” I snap. “A skill that both of you fail to accomplish on your own.”
Gregory’s hands tighten around his utensils. Jonathan slams down his glass of water. Sophia smiles.
“That’s why the men in our family go bald by twenty,” she quips.
Bàba’s nostrils flare. “Sophia Huang, have you no respect?”
For once, Sophia doesn’t flinch. She pops a piece of fish into her mouth and chews it with a fearlessness I haven’t seen since she was sixteen.
The men are about to fire back before māma huffs.
“Enough!” she scolds. “We are having dinner. Not waging war. Now, sit up straight and finish your meal.”
Bàba doesn’t protest. Instead, he stays focused on me throughout dinner, skeptical and watchful for the missing pieces of the daughter he was once proud of.
But for the first time, I can’t find it in myself to care.
I rip off my dress, unpin my hair, and take off my jewelry the moment I’m alone in my room.
“āiyā!” The diamond earring hooks onto my hair. I tug and wiggle it. It catches onto other strands until it knots into a web I can’t untangle.
Frustrated tears burst from my eyes.
It’s been days of faking my smiles, hoping that no one can see the panic thrumming inside of me, and pretending that the random mundane things I see don’t affect me when in truth, they bring me back to the one person I should’ve stopped thinking about the moment I broke his heart.
The phone rings.
Rowan Kaneshiro flashes on the screen, making my brows furrow
Why would Rowan be calling me?
I warily pick up the phone and answer the call. “Hello?”
“Hey, Diana. Is this a good time?” His voice is too calm and steady that my suspicions heighten.
I fidget, my hand rubbing at my throat. “Is everything alright?”
“I’m just calling for Kai’s sake. He’s too nice to do it himself, so I decided to do it for him and tell you that you might not be able to hang out as much in December. He has to prep for an all-star game, and I need him to stay focused.”
I pause. “The all-star game?”
“Yeah, we’re flying to Toronto for it.”
Why is Rowan talking to me as if everything is fine—
Kai didn’t tell them about what happened.
I drop my head into my hand. Of course he wouldn’t. After everything the team has endured, Kai wouldn’t want to stress them out with his own personal problems.
I gasp in fake realization.
“Oh, right!” I chuckle. “The all-star game! I’m sorry. I have a lot on my plate, and it completely slipped my mind.”
A beat of silence passes before Rowan scoffs. “You two are the worst fucking liars I know.”
“What do you me—”
“There’s no all-star game,” Rowan snaps. “You would know that if you and Kai were still talking.”
My eyes shut in defeat.
“I’m tired of being lied to, Diana. Tell me what the hell is going on,” Rowan demands. “Kai has been bullshitting me with how he’s feeling, and I can’t get through to him.”
I sink onto my bed and force the words out. “I broke it off.”
The line goes quiet. From the brief time I’ve known Rowan, he’s probably pinching the bridge of his nose and analyzing the thirty million ways he could’ve protected Kai from getting his heart broken.
“Let me guess: you didn’t feel the same way about him?”
“No,” I insist. “I broke it off because of what I feel for him.”
I tell Rowan everything that happened that night. He listens patiently without interrupting. When I’m done, he simply sighs.
“Well, first of all, great timing.”
“Rowan—”
“But I understand and respect why you had to do it.” His steely voice softens ever so slightly, and I can sense the frown on his face. “I’m sorry this is happening to the both of you.”
“I didn’t want to break his heart. I swear.” My fingers tremble as they press the phone up to my ear. “I really tried to protect him the best I could.”
“I know you did.”
The sound of footfalls pads behind him. I push the speaker closer to my ear, desperate to hear any morsel of Kai in the background.
Rowan speaks again, “Look, I know you and Kai were friends with benefits for stress relief. I still think it was good for him to have someone to relate to about rumors and dealing with the pressure of proving yourself to people all the time. You gave him comfort that Luke and I couldn’t really provide.
Regardless of how it ended, I wanted to thank you. I never really got a chance to.”
The words break the last shard of composure I have left and all I can manage is a whisper. “T-Thank you. Goodnight, Rowan.”
I drop the phone on the desk before I finally tear the earring out of my hair.
The sob I’ve been holding in breaks free.
I thought the moment I cleared my name and went back to my duties at the HMG, everything would feel right. Except nothing does. I still feel like I’m the one being punished. I feel even more broken and alone than I ever did before.
Following the path bàba carved out for me used to feel secure and comforting. Now, it’s like thorns under my feet and I’m bleeding for a future that I don’t think I really want anymore.
Especially when it forces me to let go of the one person who’s ever made me feel alive.