CHAPTER 17
THE ATTACK
OLIVIA
Olivia did not go home.
Olivia kept one fact at the center of every decision: Ben needed rescue, but he also needed to emerge as more than someone Alex had saved. His own choices mattered.
At the training rink, Olivia’s courage would be measured through decisions rather than endurance. She could enter danger, use the plan, and still accept help without surrendering the authority over her own body or judgment.
The federal vehicles carried weapons, medical kits, and tracking equipment. Olivia carried the harder tool: a willingness to think while someone she loved was in danger. Panic promised speed. Strategy required accepting each second without filling it with reckless movement.
She also did not call the decision strength.
There was nothing strong about exhaustion turning every familiar room into a possible breach.
She chose the federal office because it had guards, independent cameras, and people outside Robert’s control.
Safety felt impersonal there, which was exactly what she needed after a night when every intimate connection had become evidence.
Home implied safety, and every place associated with her had become a map Richard Parker could read.
She spent the remaining hours before dawn in a federal conference room three floors above an underground garage, wearing Alex’s coat because hers had been taken as evidence.
Gerard’s fingerprints remained on the lining.
The scent of Alex—soap, cold air, and the faint clean bitterness of the tape he used on his sticks—made it harder to think.
The forged agreement lay beneath a plastic evidence sleeve on the table.
The signature looked like Alex’s. The date matched the week after her mother had warned him. The document metadata had been flattened years earlier, leaving no easy digital trail. Robert insisted he had never seen the second page.
Olivia believed he might be telling the truth.
That was not the same as trusting him.
Martin Vale sat across from her with a blanket around his shoulders and a cup of untouched coffee. Coach Davis had gone to the hospital for stitches and a concussion evaluation only after threatening to fine everyone involved for missing morning skate.
Ben paced near the wall.
Alex stood outside the room.
He had not entered after Olivia asked for space. Through the glass, she could see him speaking to an agent, his posture rigid, his attention returning to her every few seconds.
The old version of Alex would have treated the closed door as a challenge.
This one remained on the other side.
The change mattered.
So did the damage.
“Eleanor used physical hiding places,” Martin said. “She distrusted cloud storage and any system Richard’s accountants could reach.”
Olivia forced her attention back to the missing key. “What could it open?”
“A bank box. A locker. A private archive. She maintained several.”
“Somewhere Richard would never willingly look,” Ben said. “What did he hate?”
“Losing,” Alex said from the doorway.
Olivia had not heard it open.
He remained at the threshold. “May I come in?”
She nodded.
He entered without moving toward her. There was dried blood at one cuff from the rink and a bruise rising beneath his jaw.
“Richard hated anything connected to Evan’s failure,” Alex continued. “After Evan died, he emptied the development rink, sold the house, and removed his name from the foundation.”
Martin looked up. “Eleanor kept Evan’s storage locker.”
Robert swore quietly.
“What storage locker?” Olivia asked.
“The camp assigned one to every elite prospect,” Martin said. “Most were cleared. Evan’s remained sealed because Richard refused to collect the equipment.”
“Where?”
“Titan Crown.”
Ben stopped pacing. “There are old lockers beneath the practice rink.”
Alex’s gaze met Olivia’s. “Somewhere Richard would not look.”
The federal agents wanted to search immediately. Olivia wanted a warrant, a complete evidence team, and a plan that did not involve walking into another controlled environment before sunrise. They obtained the first two.
The third disappeared when the building security system showed a fire alarm in the lower practice level.
Someone else had reached the locker.
Olivia requested ten minutes before leaving the federal office.
She used them to review every active threat, every person who knew about Evan’s locker, and every route Richard could use to reach the arena.
Her cheek throbbed where Gerard had held her.
Fatigue pressed behind her eyes. Neither condition made her less capable, but both made overconfidence more dangerous.
She asked an agent for a fresh threat assessment.
He gave her one sentence: assume Richard has retained access to systems they have not yet identified.
That meant phones, cameras, vehicles, medical records, and people.
Alex waited near the elevator while she changed into flat boots and secured her hair. He had cleaned the blood from his hands but not from the edge of his cuff.
“You should have the shoulder checked,” she said.
“It is bruised.”
“You hit the boards at the rink.”
“I have hit boards professionally for twelve years.”
“That is not medical evidence.”
He almost argued. Then he lifted his arm, winced, and said, “I will have Dr. Shah look at it after the search.”
Olivia stared.
“What?”
“You agreed too quickly.”
“I am adapting.”
The word had become theirs—a challenge, an apology, and sometimes a promise.
In the elevator, Ben stood between them, reading messages from the agents securing South Harbor. He had not processed the kidnapping yet. Olivia recognized the brightness of his focus because she had worn it herself after the break-in. Competence became a temporary shelter from fear.
“After the arena, you need to sleep,” she told him.
“I am fine.”
Alex inhaled.
Olivia looked at him.
He changed the sentence before speaking. “Would you consider staying with Daniel or Luke tonight? Somewhere Richard has not connected to you?”
Ben lowered the phone. “That was almost normal.”
“It was normal.”
“It had a visible pulse.”
Olivia hid a smile.
The humor lasted until they entered the parking garage.
A black sedan sat idling near the exit. Its driver watched them in the mirror and pulled away when the federal vehicles approached.
One agent photographed the plate. It belonged to a rental company, registered under a false name already tied to Richard’s accounts.
“He wants us to know he is still close,” Olivia said.
Alex’s gaze followed the departing car. “Or he wants us watching the wrong vehicle.”
They checked their own SUVs before entering. Noah scanned the onboard systems. Ben found a small magnetic tracker beneath the rear bumper of the lead vehicle.
The tracker had been placed within the last hour—inside the federal garage.
No one said what it meant.
Richard’s reach extended into law enforcement or into the contractors who serviced the building. The distinction did not improve their safety.
Olivia changed the route twice on the way to Titan Crown. Alex did not question her directions. At one intersection, he placed his phone in a signal-blocking pouch without being asked.
Trust did not always announce itself. Sometimes it looked like removing one more way to interfere.
They drove to Titan Crown in three vehicles.
The arena looked ordinary from outside, all black glass and silver panels under a paling sky. Employees had not yet arrived. The public entrances were locked. No smoke showed above the roofline.
Noah met them at the player entrance wearing a sweatshirt beneath his coat.
“The alarm was triggered manually,” he said. “Cameras on the lower level are looping twelve minutes of empty footage.”
“Can you break the loop?” Olivia asked.
“I can stop it. I cannot show what happened during it.”
Alex looked toward the corridor. “Who is inside?”
“No active access badges.”
“Meaning someone entered before the system was altered,” Luke said from behind him.
Daniel and Adam had arrived with him despite Coach Davis sending a group message ordering every player to stay home until noon.
Olivia stared at them. “This is a federal search.”
Daniel raised both hands. “We are innocent athletes accidentally standing in our workplace.”
“You brought bolt cutters again.”
Luke looked at the tool in his hand. “The old locker gates are mechanical.”
Adam smiled. “We planned the accident carefully.”
Alex did not smile. “They stay upstairs.”
Adam opened his mouth.
“Not a debate,” Alex said.
The captain’s voice still carried power when he used it for the right reason.
Olivia joined the agents, Alex, Ben, and Noah in the service elevator. She was not wearing body armor this time. She had not expected to need it between a federal office and a secured arena.
Alex noticed.
His jaw hardened.
“Do not,” she said softly.
“I did not say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was about to ask whether you want mine.”
The correction disarmed her.
“No. But thank you.”
The elevator opened onto the practice level.
A chemical haze hung in the corridor. Not smoke. Fire suppressant.
The overhead lights strobed through the mist.
Noah checked his tablet. “Motion sensor at the east stairwell.”
The lead agent signaled for everyone to stop.
A metal door slammed somewhere ahead.
Footsteps ran toward the loading bay.
The agents moved.
Alex remained beside Olivia because the plan required it, though every line of his body leaned toward pursuit.
Then Ben said, “The locker room.”
The old prospect lockers occupied a narrow room behind the equipment workshop. Evan’s number—seventeen—was stamped on a rusted plate at the far end.
The lock had already been cut.
Olivia pulled the door open.
Inside were a pair of cracked skates, a faded camp jersey, and a small steel box with an empty keyhole.
The box was open.
The drive was gone.
A phone began ringing inside the locker.
Alex reached for it.
Olivia caught his wrist. “Wait.”
The agents photographed the device, checked it for explosives, then allowed her to answer on speaker.
Richard Parker’s voice filled the room.