Chapter 56 Kael
The sun shouldn’t be this bright.
Not after a night like that.
Not after watching Wren break in front of us.
Not after watching her fall asleep between us like she was finally safe for the first time in weeks.
She’s still sleeping when I slip out from under her knees and ease myself off the couch. Finn stirs but doesn’t wake. Atlas hasn’t slept at all—his eyes stay fixed on the door like if he blinks, something will get in.
There’s no danger now.
But try telling that to Atlas’s nervous system.
He doesn’t move when I leave the room to take a call. The hallway feels too small for news like this.
Santos from Ops speaks fast.
“We need statements. All of you. ASAP. Security wants a full rundown of last night.”
My jaw clenches. “She’s resting.”
“We need her too.”
“She’s resting,” I repeat, sharper.
A pause.
Then: “Okay. Noon?”
I exhale through my nose. “Make it one.”
“Done.”
I hang up and turn back toward the living room. Atlas is exactly where I left him—arms folded, foot tapping once every ten seconds like a timer ticking down to something he’s not ready to admit.
When he notices me, his gaze sharpens.
“What’d Ops say?”
“One. They want statements. All of us.”
His jaw flexes. “She’s not walking into that alone.”
“She’s not doing anything alone,” I say.
He nods once.
Movement draws my attention—Wren sits up slowly, hair tangled, eyes groggy. The blanket slips off her shoulder before she catches it, pulling it tight around herself.
Before I can move, Finn is already awake, sliding a hand to her back.
“You good?” he murmurs.
She blinks. “I’m okay.”
Her voice is hoarse.
Not weak.
Used.
She looks around the apartment, confusion flickering across her face before memory settles in. A small tremor runs through her fingers; Finn catches it and covers her hand with his.
Atlas steps forward. “You hungry?”
Wren nods once, small. “Yeah. A little.”
I grab her backpack, the one Finn haphazardly stuffed last night, and set it beside her. “We have to go in today.”
“To the rink?” she asks.
“And Ops.” I sit on the edge of the coffee table across from her. “They want statements.”
Her shoulders stiffen. “All of us?”
“Yes.”
She exhales through her nose. “Okay.”
“You don’t have to talk yet,” Finn says quietly. “We can tell them first—”
“No.” Wren shakes her head, a flicker of steel returning to her voice. “I’ll give my statement.”
Atlas frowns. “Wren. You don’t have to—”
“I do.” She swallows. “Last night... happened to me. I’m telling them myself.”
I look at her—really look.
She’s tired.
Shaken.
Not steady yet.
But she’s choosing to stand anyway.
A spark of pride hits my chest hard.
“Then we’ll be there with you,” I say.
She nods, eyes softening.
***
The rink is already buzzing when we walk in.
Too many voices.
Too many eyes.
Too much tension in the air for a normal morning.
Wren walks between us—Finn on her left, Atlas on her right, me half a step ahead. Not shielding her. Surrounding her.
She keeps her gaze straight ahead, jaw set, posture controlled.
The moment we cross the threshold toward the players’ hallway, the room shifts.
Conversations stop.
Stares lock onto her.
Every guy on the team freezes like someone cut the power.
Rowan is the first to speak.
“What the hell happened?” he asks, eyebrows drawn low.
“She okay?” another player mutters.
“Why was Kael texting us at two in the morning?”
“Did someone try something?”
“Is she safe?”
“Do we need to handle something?”
Wren stops.
She stands straighter.
Shoulders back.
Chin lifted.
Finn tenses beside her.
Atlas looks ready to throw anyone who gets too close out a window.
I keep my voice steady. “Give her space.”
But before I can say more, Wren steps forward.
She faces the players directly, eyes steady.
“I’m fine,” she says. “Something happened, but I’m here, and I’m still doing my job.”
The room stills.
She swallows, chin tightening. “I’m not quitting.”
A ripple moves through the team.
Not just shock—respect.
Rowan nods slowly. “We’ve got your back.”
“Always,” another player adds.
Atlas shifts, barely, but enough that I can see the tension bleed from his shoulders.
I lean close to her. “You don’t have to talk to anyone else.”
“I want to,” she says.
I believe her.
***
Ops pulls us into the conference room.
Santos, Leung, and three security personnel sit waiting. Papers. Screens. Tense faces.
They expect fear.
Silence.
Me talking for Wren.
They don’t get that.
Wren sits between Finn and Atlas, hands clasped loosely in her lap. I sit beside Atlas, bracing for the moment she breaks.
She doesn’t.
Santos clears her throat. “Wren, we can walk you through this gently if it’s too fresh.”
Wren shakes her head. “It’s okay. I know what happened. I can talk.”
Finn’s knee bumps hers. Atlas lays his hand over the back of her chair. I keep my gaze on her, ready to step in if she falters.
She doesn’t falter.
“He was in my apartment,” she says, voice even. “He came through the door. I didn’t know he was there until I left the shower.”
The air tightens.
“He didn’t touch me,” she continues. “But he blocked the hall. He talked. He told me to get dressed. Then he heard something and left through the back window.”
Her voice shakes once.
Just once.
My hand curls into a fist.
Santos nods, typing. “Do you know how he got in?”
“He must’ve picked the locks,” Wren says. “All three.”
Atlas growls low in his throat. Finn’s jaw works. I place a hand on the table to ground myself before I break it in half.
Leung leans forward. “You did everything right.”
Wren swallows. “I don’t feel like I did.”
“You came here today,” I say quietly. “That’s more strength than most people ever find.”
She looks at me like she hears something deeper in my voice. Maybe she does.
***
When the statements end, Ops dismisses us.
Wren stands slowly, exhaling like she’s been holding her breath for hours.
Finn hovers at her side, gaze searching her face.
Atlas steps close, lowering his voice. “You did good.”
She meets his eyes. “Thank you.”
She turns toward me.
And the look she gives me is something I’ll remember for a long time—fragile, strong, trusting, broken, rebuilt.
“Kael,” she says softly, “I’m not leaving.”
“I know.”
“This is my job.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not letting him take that from me.”
Something shifts inside my chest.
“Good,” I whisper.
Finn touches her wrist gently. “We’ve got you.”
Atlas nods. “All the way.”
Her breath shakes.
And for the first time since last night—
It shakes with relief.