Chapter 17
Dante
The world was grey.
It wasn't a metaphor. The sky over Buffalo, New York, was literally the color of dirty dishwater. The concrete of the NHL Combine facility was grey. Even the ice I was skating on—pristine, expensive, professional—looked dull.
I had been here for three days. Three days of physical tests. Three days of interviews. Three days of pretending I wasn't dead inside.
"Next drill!" the whistle blew.
I moved.
My body was a machine again. Better than before. Fueled by rage and heartbreak, I had broken records. My vertical jump: top percentile. My VO2 max: off the charts. My on-ice agility: lethal.
I skated to the line. My knee didn't hurt. Nothing hurt. I was numb.
Thomas Reed, the Kraken scout, was watching from the glass. He was smiling. He was scribbling notes. He looked like a man who had just found a diamond in the rough.
He thinks I'm focused, the voice in my head—the cold, bitter voice of the Monster—sneered. He doesn't know I'm just empty.
I finished the drill. I stopped on a dime, spraying ice. I didn't look for approval. I skated to the bench, drank water, and waited for the next command.
I was the perfect soldier.
And I hated every second of it.
Back in the hotel room, the silence was deafening.
It was a nice room. King bed. view of the city (more grey). Minibar.
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. My phone sat on the nightstand. It was turned off. I hadn't turned it on since I left Washington.
If I turned it on, I might check. I might look for a text that wasn't there. I might see a photo of her.
Architecture? You were a fun experiment.
The words looped in my mind like a broken record. Her voice. Her laugh. The cruelty in her eyes.
I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing the heels of my hands into them until I saw stars.
It was a lie, a small, desperate part of me whispered. She loved you. You felt the bond.
She played you, the Monster roared back. She used you for a grade. She saw the beast and she ran. Just like everyone else.
A knock on the door.
"Moretti? You in there?"
It was Jax. He had come with me, mostly to make sure I didn't jump off the Peace Bridge.
"Go away," I said.
The key card clicked. The door opened.
Jax walked in, carrying two bags of takeout. He looked tired. He looked worried.
"You need to eat," Jax said, dumping the bags on the desk. "You haven't touched food in twenty-four hours. You're burning six thousand calories a day, remember? Physics."
"I'm not hungry."
"I don't care," Jax said. He grabbed a burger, unwrapped it, and shoved it into my hand. "Eat. Or I call Vane and tell him you're engaging in self-sabotage."
I looked at the burger. It smelled like grease. It smelled nothing like vanilla.
I took a bite. It tasted like cardboard. I chewed mechanically and swallowed.
"Reed wants to talk to you tonight," Jax said, sitting in the armchair. "Private dinner. Just you and the Kraken brass."
"Okay," I said.
"Okay?" Jax stared at me. "Dante, this is it. This is the dream. You're going first round. You're going to be a millionaire. Can you summon even a molecule of excitement?"
"I'll be professional," I said.
"I don't want professional!" Jax shouted, standing up. "I want my friend back! I want the guy who wanted to build houses! I want the guy who was... happy."
"That guy is gone," I said flatly. "She killed him."
Jax ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Look, I know she hurt you. I know it was brutal. But... didn't it seem weird to you? The timing? The way she flipped?"
"She saw the photo," I said. "She realized the cost. She bailed. It's not weird, Jax. It's smart. Self-preservation."
"Maybe," Jax muttered. "Or maybe she was cornered."
I looked up sharply. "What does that mean?"
"Nothing," Jax backed down. "Just... she looked wrecked, Dante. I saw her the day you left. She looked like a ghost."
"She's a good actress," I spat. "She fooled me for weeks."
I stood up and threw the half-eaten burger in the trash.
"I have to get ready for dinner," I said. "Get out."
Jax looked at me with pity. I hated pity almost as much as I hated love.
"Fine," he said. "But ask yourself this... if it was just an experiment, why did she wait until the scandal broke to end it? Why did she wait until your career was on the line?"
He walked out.
I stood there, staring at the door.
Why?
Because she didn't care about my career. She cared about her own. She cared about London. She cared about being the Liaison's daughter.
I walked into the bathroom to shower. I scrubbed my skin until it was red, trying to wash off the ghost of her touch.
But no matter how hot the water was, I was still cold.
Dinner was at a steakhouse. Of course. Hockey people loved steak.
Thomas Reed sat across from me. He was flanked by the Kraken's GM and the Assistant Coach.
They were all smiling. They were drinking expensive scotch. They were talking about contracts.
"We're impressed, Dante," Reed said, leaning forward. "The way you handled the media storm back home? The way you focused on the game? That shows maturity. We like maturity."
"Thank you, sir," I said, cutting my steak into precise, bite-sized pieces.
"The knee looks good," the GM noted. "You're moving well."
"It's healed," I said.
"And the... personal distraction?" Reed asked delicately. "The girl?"
My hand froze. The knife screeched against the porcelain plate.
"Gone," I said. My voice was devoid of emotion. "It's over."
"Good," Reed nodded. "Clean break. Smart. You don't need that kind of baggage in your rookie year. Especially not with the Liaison's family. Thorne is a nightmare to deal with."
"Thorne?" I asked, looking up.
"Richard Thorne," Reed clarified. "He called me, you know. Before the Combine."
My heart skipped a beat.
"He called you?"
"Yeah. Wanted to know the stakes. Asked what would happen if you were suspended. Asked if a scandal would kill your draft stock."
Reed chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.
"Intense guy. Very protective of his reputation. He basically asked me to confirm that if you were tainted, we'd drop you."
"And what did you say?" I asked, my blood turning to ice.
"I told him the truth," Reed shrugged. "We don't touch scandals. If there was an ethics investigation... you were done."
I stared at him. The noise of the restaurant faded away.
Thorne called Reed. He asked about the stakes. He confirmed that a scandal would destroy me.
And then... Arabella broke up with me.
She didn't just break up with me. She released a statement saying she felt "unsafe." A statement that killed the ethics investigation. A statement that saved my career.
She was cornered.
Jax’s words echoed in my mind.
Why did she wait until your career was on the line?
Because she was saving it.
She didn't leave because she hated me. She left because she loved me.
She took the fall. She played the villain. She lied to the Dean, to the press, to me... to make sure I was sitting at this table right now.
"Dante?" Reed asked. "You okay, son? You look pale."
I stood up. My chair scraped loudly against the floor.
"I have to go," I said.
"Go?" Reed frowned. "We haven't ordered dessert. We haven't discussed the signing bonus."
"Keep the bonus," I said. "Keep the draft pick."
"Excuse me?" The GM looked at me like I was insane.
"I have to go," I repeated, my voice rising. "I made a mistake. A huge mistake."
"Sit down, Moretti," Reed commanded, his voice turning hard. "If you walk out of this dinner, you are walking away from the Seattle Kraken. You are walking away from the NHL."
I looked at him. I looked at the suits, the scotch, the steak.
This was it. The dream. The validation. The proof that I wasn't my father.
But without her... it was just a job. It was just ice and pain and loneliness.
"I don't want the NHL," I said. "I want her."
I turned and ran.
I ran out of the restaurant. I ran down the street, ignoring the honking cars. I ran back to the hotel.
I burst into the room. Jax was watching TV. He jumped up when he saw me.
"Dante? What happened? Did you punch Reed?"
"Pack your bags," I shouted, grabbing my duffel bag and shoving clothes into it. "We're leaving."
"Leaving? Now? The Combine isn't over!"
"I don't care!" I zipped the bag. "She lied, Jax. She lied to save me. Thorne threatened her. He told her if she stayed with me, I'd lose everything. So she left."
Jax’s eyes widened. "Oh shit. That... that actually makes sense."
"I have to get back," I said, pacing the room. "I have to find her. Before she leaves for London. Before she thinks I actually believed her."
"Dante, wait," Jax said, grabbing my arm. "Think about this. If you leave now... you're AWOL. You'll drop in the draft. Maybe out of the draft entirely."
"Let them drop me," I said fiercely. "I'll play in Europe. I'll play in a beer league. I don't care. I am not losing my mate because of a game."
Jax stared at me. A slow grin spread across his face.
"There he is," Jax said. "There's the Wolf."
"Are you coming?" I asked, grabbing my keys.
"Hell yeah," Jax said, grabbing his jacket. "I'm driving. You're too emotional. You'll kill us."
We drove through the night.
We didn't take a plane. The flights were booked. We drove Jax’s rental car across the country. It was insane. It was reckless. It took two days of non-stop driving, switching off, mainlining coffee and energy drinks.
I texted her the whole way.
Dante: I know what you did.
Dante: Pick up the phone, Ara.
Dante: I’m coming back.
Dante: Don't go to London.
Radio silence.
Every mile felt like agony. Every hour felt like a year.
I replayed our last conversation in my head. Architecture? You were a fun experiment.
It sounded so cruel. So calculated. But now, listening to it through the filter of sacrifice... I heard the tremor in her voice. I saw the tears she tried to hide.
She had broken her own heart to keep mine beating.
Hold on, I prayed to the universe. Just hold on.
We arrived at Blackwood Mountain on Friday afternoon.
The campus was quiet. Finals were over. Graduation was tomorrow.
I directed Jax to the Honors Dorm.