Chapter 28
Nikolai
I lay in bed with the early light slipping through the curtains, casting pale stripes across the sheets and warming my skin.
Mina dozed against my chest, her breathing slow and even, her hair tangled and soft against my collarbone.
I kept still, one arm around her waist, not wanting to move.
Not wanting to break this. Whatever this was.
She looked so peaceful, and for a few moments, all I could do was watch her—catalog the small details that anchored me: the curve of her shoulder, the faint crease in her brow even in sleep. I didn’t know what to call the thing swelling in my chest, but it was big. Bigger than I’d prepared for.
Then my phone buzzed against the nightstand and shattered it all.
I reached for it with a groan, heart already twisting when I saw the name flash across the screen. Coach.
“Yeah,” I muttered, careful to keep my voice low, so I didn’t wake her.
“Nikolai,” he said, and that tone—controlled, tight, heavy—cut right through whatever calm I’d been clinging to. “We need to talk.”
I sat up slowly, easing away from Mina, pressing my back to the headboard. “What happened?”
“News is moving fast.” A pause. I could hear him breathing, pacing maybe. “I just got off a call with league officials. They know about what happened last night.”
My jaw tensed. “Am I getting suspended?”
“Not yet,” he said. “But they’re watching. Hard. This isn’t just a personal issue anymore—it’s a team issue. A league issue.”
I ran a hand through my hair, already feeling the weight of it pressing down. “So, what do they want?”
“They want quiet. Stay away from the media. No social, no post-game interviews. No commentary. Just hockey.”
I stared at the floor, pulse ticking harder in my throat. “And Mina?”
There was a pause. Then, flatly: “They’ll be watching her too.”
Of course they would. They’d eat her alive if they got the chance.
“I’ll protect her,” I said immediately. “Whatever this turns into—I’m not letting them drag her through it.”
Coach’s voice was low but firm. “I know you mean that. But you need to think like a pro now, Volkov. Protect her, yes. But protect yourself too. Stay clean. Let us handle the fire.”
“Got it.”
I ended the call and sat there, staring at nothing for a beat too long.
Mina stirred beside me, letting out a little sigh in her sleep as she curled deeper into the space I’d left behind. I glanced down at her, heart still thudding, protective instinct flaring bright and hot in my chest.
I couldn’t undo last night. Couldn’t go back in time and stop Mikel from starting this mess. But I could choose what I did next.
And I’d choose her. Every damn time.
Every muscle in my body screamed to go back, to wake her gently, to pretend the world hadn’t just turned on its axis.
But pretending wouldn’t help her. Wouldn’t protect her.
And that was all I could think about now—how to shield Mina from the storm already building outside our quiet, borrowed peace.
I couldn’t fix the way people talked. Couldn’t stop headlines from twisting the truth until it looked nothing like her. But if I could carry the weight of it for her, I would. Every goddamn word of it.
I stepped into the kitchen and was hit with the stark contrast between the warmth of our bed and the sterile brightness of the morning.
The coffee maker hummed like a heartbeat—steady, mechanical—completely indifferent to the way mine raced with unease.
I poured a mug and leaned against the counter, steam curling around my face, not bothering to sip it yet. I stared at nothing.
Last night played on a loop behind my eyes—her fingers tangled in my hair, the way she whispered my name like it meant something.
Like I meant something. For a little while, the world had fallen away, and it was just us—no press, no team, no past. Just her and me, breathing in the same space like it was the only thing keeping us alive.
Now all of that felt fragile. Breakable.
I wasn’t afraid of getting fined or benched.
I wasn’t afraid of the league or the media circus.
I was afraid of them tearing her down, making her feel small for something that had given me more clarity in a night than I’d felt in years.
Mikel’s name burned through my thoughts like acid.
I didn’t even need to hear the interview to know how he’d spin it.
Cowardice always sounded bold when dressed up in a microphone and half-truths.
She walked in just then, hair tousled, wearing one of my shirts—looking like she belonged here. Like she belonged to me. My throat tightened at the sight of her.
She rubbed at her eyes. “What was that about?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced calm into my voice. “Coach,” I said simply.
She watched me like she already knew it wasn’t the whole truth. And maybe she did. But instead of pressing, she stepped closer. Just that. A silent decision to be near me.
Whatever came next—we’d face it. But God help anyone who tried to come for her again.
I poured another cup of coffee, but it tasted like nothing. Too bitter, too hot, too real for the quiet world I wanted to stay in with her. Mina leaned against the kitchen island, her hair a little wild, wearing my shirt like it belonged to her—because it did. Because she did.
I opened my mouth to say something—something light, maybe, something that could push back the storm I felt pressing in on us—but before I got the words out, her phone buzzed against the counter.
She glanced at it, brow furrowing slightly. “Just ignore it,” I offered, voice low. But the buzzing didn’t stop. It kept going. Once. Then again. And again. A sick rhythm, like the countdown before a fight.
Mina sighed, her shoulders sagging.
But it rang again.
This time, she didn’t ignore it. She picked it up and hit speaker. “Okay, okay,” she murmured, like she already regretted answering.
“Mina! Oh my God! Are you there?” Paige’s voice came through in a rush, breathless, panicked.
Mina straightened. “I’m here. What’s wrong?”
“Mikel just did an interview—with some gossip site or something—he said… he said you cheated on him. That you’ve been with Nikolai behind his back. That you’re some clout-chaser.”
The words hit harder than any check I’d taken on the ice. I felt the air get sucked out of the room.
“What?” Mina whispered. Her eyes locked with mine, wide and stunned, the blood draining from her face.
“He said you used him to get access to the team. That you and Nikolai have been sneaking around for weeks.” Paige kept going, her voice rising. “Mina, it’s spreading like wildfire. Screenshots, memes—everyone’s talking.”
Mina snatched up her phone and started scrolling. Her fingers trembled. I stepped closer, but the screen lit her face with a harsh blue glare. Headline after headline. Rumors, lies, speculation. A damn circus.
“No…” she said, so soft I barely heard her.
I saw her crumble, just slightly—shoulders hunching, breath caught in her throat. “They’re saying these things about me?”
My hands itched to grab her, to hold her, to protect her from all of it—but when I moved toward her, she flinched. Just a fraction, but it was enough to freeze me in place. That tiny recoil hurt more than a punch to the gut.
“It’s everywhere!” Paige shouted from the phone. “Mina… this is really bad.”
I looked at Mina and saw the storm rising behind her eyes. And I knew one thing for certain: I was going to make this right. No matter what it cost me.
“It’s not true,” Mina said, barely above a whisper. Her voice cracked around the edges, and I swear I felt my heart split right down the middle. “It’s not… that’s not what happened.”
“I know,” Paige replied gently, her panic dulled to something softer now. “I’m going to try to shut this down. But it’s already spreading. Fast. You need to get ahead of it before it spirals completely out of control.”
Mina set the phone down like it had burned her.
It clattered onto the counter, the call still technically connected but forgotten.
She wrapped her arms around herself, shoulders caved inward, like she was trying to make herself disappear.
I recognized the posture. I’d seen it before—after a fight, after a bruise, after Mikel made her feel small.
My fists clenched. I didn’t even realize it until my nails bit into my palms.
The air between us thickened, heavy with silence. Shame clung to the walls, uninvited and suffocating. For the first time in days, the warmth between us faltered.
“This isn’t true,” I said, my voice cutting through like a blade. “You know that.”
Her eyes snapped up to meet mine. I caught the flicker of raw hurt there, right before anger lit up her expression like a flash fire.
“What does that matter?” she shot back, her voice trembling. “What I know doesn’t matter! What they see, what they believe—that’s what they’ll hold on to.”
She wasn’t wrong. I hated that she wasn’t wrong.
“It doesn’t matter what they think,” I said, stepping closer. “I’ll protect you.”
She blinked at me like she didn’t believe it—like the words were too much, too soon, too good to be real. Her lips parted, trembling. “How?” she asked, so quietly I almost didn’t hear her. “He already has everyone eating out of his hand. He made me look like…”
She couldn’t even finish the sentence.
I closed the space between us until I could feel the heat of her skin against mine. “Mina,” I said, steady and low, “I won’t let him win.”
She looked up at me, a flicker of belief fighting its way to the surface. But her hands were still shaking. Still gripping tight to nothing like she might fall apart if she let go.
Her phone buzzed again.
Another wave of notifications lit up the screen—more headlines, more tags, more comments. I didn’t need to read them. I could see the damage in her face.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt powerless. Not against an opponent on the ice. Not against a ref or a penalty or even a bad play.
This was worse. This was whispers turned into knives. This was a thousand strangers tearing her down in real-time.
I stepped forward and took her hands—no hesitation this time. They were cold, tense, but she didn’t pull away.
“I’ve got you,” I said. “No matter what they say. I’m not going anywhere.”
Let the world burn. Let them twist the story however they wanted. She was mine to protect now. And I’d fight every damn lie with everything I had.
I kissed her—long, hard, fierce. I kissed her like it was the only thing keeping the world from splitting in half.
All the words I didn’t know how to say, all the rage and protectiveness boiling in my chest, I poured into that one moment.
When I finally pulled back, her eyes found mine—haunted, yes, but steadier than before.
A flicker of light, of trust. And that? That was everything.
“Order that cookie you like,” I murmured, already reaching for my phone.
She blinked. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to fix this,” I said, every syllable steady even though my pulse hammered like a war drum.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, voice tentative. “Nikolai—”
“Trust me.” I met her gaze and held it. Not with bravado—just the simple, unshakable truth that I wasn’t going to let this go unanswered.
I pulled up Mikel’s number with one hand while confirming the dessert delivery with the other. Because if she was going to weather this shitstorm, she deserved something sweet while I handled the bitter.
The phone rang once before he picked up, and of course, he opened with a smug drawl. “Well, well. If it isn’t the Reaper himself.”
“Cut the bullshit,” I said, my voice low and hard. “We need to talk.”
“Oh? Didn’t expect you to call after last night. Hope Mina’s enjoying your bed as much as she did mine.”
Rage surged through me, red and blinding. I saw the cracked knuckles on my hand and imagined them meeting his face again. I swallowed the instinct. “I saw your interview.”
“Yeah?” he said, amused. “Don’t believe everything you read.”
“You’re dragging her name through the mud for attention.”
He chuckled—mocking, grating. “Please. She used me long before you came along. Now she’s riding your name like a lifeboat.”
My grip on the phone tightened. I forced my tone calm, ice over fire. “You want attention? Fine. Let’s make another bet.”
There was a pause—curiosity now simmering under his smug tone. “Another bet? What’s the game this time, Reaper?”
“If I win, you walk back every lie. Publicly. You say you made it up.”
“And if I win?” His voice shifted, lower, darker. The kind of quiet that comes before a cheap shot.
I let the silence draw tight between us. “What do you want?”
He waited—too long—and I knew whatever he was about to say; it wasn’t going to be good.
“I think you know,” Mikel replied, casual as hell—like this was just a friendly wager and not the most twisted power play of his pathetic life.
My blood ran cold. The silence between us thickened, pressing like a vice against my temples.
“Mina,” he said simply.
Her name. He said it like it belonged to him. Like she was some trophy he could win back with the right gamble. My grip around the phone tightened until I thought the screen might crack under the pressure.
“Listen carefully,” I said, my voice like steel drawn across ice. “If you think you can take her from me, you’re walking straight into hell.”
He didn’t flinch. “You’ll have a day to change your mind. When we settle this, we’ll see who she’s really meant to be with.”
There was something so smug in the way he wielded her name—like a weapon, like he didn’t care that she was a person, not a pawn. It made me sick.
“I won’t lose,” I snarled, the words pulled straight from the fire in my gut.
“Then we have ourselves a deal,” he said, voice dripping with satisfaction. He was enjoying this—twisting the knife, believing he still had some kind of power over her.
I didn’t bother with goodbyes. I ended the call and turned slowly toward the kitchen, where Mina stood frozen.
Her eyes locked on mine—wide, brimming with too many emotions at once. Fear. Confusion. A flicker of hope she was too scared to let settle.
“What did he say?” she asked quietly.
“He agreed,” I answered, voice flat, controlled. I was already running through every move in my head—every second of the next thirty days.
She stepped closer, something fragile breaking through her features. “Do you really think…”
I didn’t let her finish. I met her gaze and locked in.
“I’ll bring him down.”
And I meant every damn word.
Whatever game Mikel thought he was playing, he didn’t realize yet—he hadn’t picked a fight with some overpaid enforcer on skates. He picked a fight with the one man willing to burn his entire world to protect her.