CHAPTER 17 #3
That act of restraint became part of her courage. Not because she needed his permission, but because she knew the man outside would not destroy the plan simply to quiet his fear.
When Richard demanded the phone, she opened the false transfer. The progress bar moved slowly.
Thirty percent.
Forty.
Ben’s right hand slipped partly free.
One gunman glanced toward him.
Fifty-five.
Noah’s voice whispered in her ear. “Connection established. Side doors in twelve seconds.”
Richard leaned close enough that she smelled expensive cologne over rink air.
“Alex will never love you more than he loves violence,” he said.
Olivia met his gaze. “You mistake what a person has done for everything they are capable of becoming.”
The gunman raised his weapon toward Ben.
The progress bar reached ninety.
Olivia spoke the phrase.
She entered the rink alone.
Ben sat inside the penalty box with his wrists secured in front. Richard stood at center ice in a dark overcoat. The stolen drive hung from a chain around his neck.
Two armed men waited near the benches.
“You found it,” Olivia said.
Richard touched the drive. “Your mother always underestimated the loyalty of frightened men. Gerard told me where to look before the agents took his phone.”
“Let Ben go.”
“Give me the copy.”
Olivia lifted her phone. “It is here.”
Richard gestured toward the ice. “Bring it.”
She walked through the gate and stepped onto the rink in dress shoes. The ice was slick beneath her. Every sound carried.
Ben met her gaze through the glass. His right hand moved slightly.
He had loosened the binding.
Olivia stopped five feet from Richard.
“The file is encrypted,” she said. “You need my face and passcode.”
“Then unlock it.”
She held the phone up.
Richard moved closer.
“What happens after?” she asked.
“You and Alex become the story. The owner’s daughter and the violent captain who buried a dead boy’s condition. Robert goes to prison. The Titans collapse. Evan finally matters.”
“Evan mattered before you turned him into an excuse.”
Richard struck her.
Pain flashed across her cheek. She remained standing.
Beyond the glass, Alex moved.
She looked toward him and shook her head once.
Not yet.
Richard gripped her chin. “Unlock it.”
Olivia entered the false code Noah had created. A progress bar appeared.
Two minutes.
Behind Richard, Ben slipped one hand free.
One of the armed men noticed.
He raised his weapon.
“Blue line,” Olivia said.
The side doors burst open.
Agents entered from both tunnels. Noah killed the rink lights. Emergency strips ignited along the boards.
Ben threw himself under the bench as the first shot struck the glass.
Olivia drove her knee into Richard’s thigh and grabbed the drive at his neck. The chain cut her palm but broke.
An armed man seized her from behind.
She stamped his foot, turned into the hold, and used the movement Alex had shown her in the apartment—elbow, throat, escape.
Then another shot cracked.
Alex crossed the ice.
He reached Olivia at the same instant Richard drew a compact pistol from inside his coat.
Alex pushed her down.
The bullet entered beneath his left shoulder.
He remained on his feet.
He hit Richard once.
Richard fell.
Alex hit him again.
The pistol was already away. Agents were shouting. Ben was safe behind the box.
Olivia rose and caught Alex’s arm before the third strike.
“Look at me.”
His eyes found hers through a veil of rage.
“Stop.”
He stopped.
Blood spread beneath his shirt.
The agents forced Richard facedown and secured his hands. Another agent grabbed Alex, mistaking his movement for continued resistance.
Alex reacted on instinct and drove the man against the boards.
Three officers descended on him.
“Do not fight them!” Olivia shouted.
He froze.
They pulled his arms behind his back and cuffed him while the paramedics entered.
“He was shot,” Olivia said. “He protected me.”
The lead agent looked at Richard’s broken face, the weapon on the ice, and Alex’s record.
“He also assaulted a suspect after the threat was contained.”
Richard lifted his head from the ice and smiled through blood.
“This is what he is,” he said.
Alex looked only at Olivia.
She held the stolen drive in one bleeding hand.
Paramedics cut open his shirt. The wound was high and clean, but the blood did not stop.
As they lowered him to a stretcher, he reached toward her and stopped before touching.
Olivia took his hand.
“I trusted you,” he said, voice rough with pain.
“You did.”
“Ben?”
“Safe.”
His eyes closed for one second.
The police officer attached one cuff to the stretcher rail.
Alex opened them again.
Olivia saw the understanding arrive: suspension, criminal scrutiny, the captaincy, the playoffs, everything he had built balanced against the two punches he had not been able to resist.
The ambulance doors closed between them.
Richard was led toward another vehicle.
He paused beside Olivia.
“You think the drive saves you,” he murmured. “Your mother recorded everything. Including what Alex did for Robert.”
An officer pushed him forward.
Olivia looked down at the drive.
The attack was over.
The damage had only begun.