Chapter 8 Kael
She’s late.
Wren Harper walks into the training facility twelve minutes later than yesterday, and I notice before anyone else.
I always notice.
She keeps her head down as she moves through the lobby, oversized hoodie swallowing her frame, jaw tight, shoulders curved inward like she’s holding something in.
Something heavy.
Something she’s trying to hide.
I grip my water bottle harder than I should. The plastic creaks.
“Relax, Cap,” one of the rookies mutters behind me. “She’s just late.”
No.
She’s not just late.
Wren moved yesterday with purpose—sharp, focused, steady. Today she moves like she’s walking underwater.
It hits me low in my gut.
Something’s wrong.
“Get on the ice,” I snap at the rookie, then stalk toward the hallway where Wren disappears.
She’s in the training room when I reach her—back to me, rummaging through a cabinet, hands trembling so faintly I wouldn’t see it if I wasn’t already tuned to her like a goddamn radar tower.
“Harper.”
She jumps—actually jumps—and whirls around, eyes wide.
Her reaction punches the breath out of me.
Because Wren Harper does not scare easy.
She masks it fast. “Sorry. Didn’t hear you.”
“Bullshit.”
Her throat works. “Kael—”
“What happened?”
She stiffens. “Nothing.”
Lie.
I take a step closer. She takes one back.
My jaw locks. “Talk.”
“Nothing happened,” she insists again. “I’m just tired.”
“Another lie.”
Her eyes flash in irritation. “You don’t know—”
“I know when someone on my team is off.”
Her expression shutters. “I’m not on your team.”
The words hit harder than they should.
“You work with us,” I say. “You walk our halls. You step onto our ice. That makes you mine.”
Her breath catches—sharp, soft, instant.
Shit.
I didn’t mean to say it like that.
I didn’t mean to say it at all.
She looks away, cheeks flushed. “Kael, I don’t need protecting.”
“I think you do.”
Silence.
Not comfortable.
Not charged.
Frightened.
Her fingers curl around the edge of the counter, knuckles white.
I step in front of her, close enough to feel her breath. “Someone did something.”
“No one did anything.”
Her voice shakes, even though she’s trying to hide it.
I lower my tone. “Wren.”
She closes her eyes—just for a second—and that alone tells me everything I need to know.
Something happened.
Something big.
Something she’s trying not to crumble under.
Her breath stutters on the exhale.
I lift a hand—slowly—giving her time to stop me.
She doesn’t.
My fingers brush her chin, tilting her face up just enough for me to see her eyes.
Fear lives there.
Real fear.
My blood goes cold.
“Tell me,” I whisper.
Her lashes tremble. “I can’t.”
“You can.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“You should.”
She swallows hard. “It’s my mess. My past. Not yours.”
I lean in, my forehead almost touching hers. “If it touches my team, it becomes my business.”
Her breath catches. “And if it only touches me?”
My voice drops dangerously low.
“Especially then.”
For a moment—just a moment—she looks like she might say something real.
Then she pulls back, breaking the contact. “Kael... please. Let it go.”
Let it go.
I can’t.
I won’t.
But pushing harder right now will only make her close off more.
I step back, but only enough to give her space. Not distance.
Never distance.
“You don’t hide from me,” I say quietly. “Not when something’s wrong.”
She wraps her arms around herself. “I’m fine.”
She isn’t.
And the fact she’s trying to pretend she is makes something violent coil inside me.
The door opens behind us. Finn pokes his head in.
“Cap—” He stops when he sees her. His smile fades. His eyes narrow. “What happened?”
She answers too fast. “Nothing.”
Atlas appears next—massive, bruised knuckles flexing—and the way his gaze slices over her makes my gut clench.
They see it too.
They feel it too.
Finn’s voice softens. “Harper... talk to us.”
Atlas’s jaw ticks. “Who do I kill?”
I shoot him a warning look, but I don’t disagree with the sentiment.
She shakes her head, backing away from all three of us. “Please. I don’t want to talk about it. I just... want to work. Let me work.”
Then she slips past us.
No fire.
No attitude.
No spark.
Just fear wrapped in exhaustion.
The door closes behind her.
Finn blows out a breath. “Something happened last night.”
Atlas mutters, “Yeah. And whoever did it’s dead.”
I stare at the door she disappeared through, cold rage settling low and heavy in my chest.
“She’s lying to protect someone,” I say.
Finn nods. “Not us.”
“No,” I say quietly. “Not us.”
Atlas steps closer, voice rough. “So what do we do?”
I answer without hesitation.
“We find out who touched her world.”
My jaw flexes.
“And then we end them.”