Chapter Thirty-Two
TOREN
My heart is already racing before I even reach the library doors.
I sprint through the hallway, my shoes echoing against the linoleum like gunshots, and yank the door open so hard it slams against the wall. Maddison is standing behind the desk looking like she's about to throw up, her face drained of all color, her hands trembling.
The library is completely empty, either everyone is already at the rink, gearing up for the game, or she didn't bother opening today. Something tells me it's the latter.
“Maddison, what's wrong?” I gasp, rushing toward her.
She whirls around to face me, and the dazed panic in her eyes makes my stomach drop. But then something shifts—the panic morphs into pity, and that's somehow infinitely worse.
“He took my keys, didn't he?” Her voice is hollow, defeated.
I freeze. “Who took your keys?”
“Xaden!” she snaps with such unexpected venom that I physically recoil. “Who the hell else would have taken them?”
“I'm not following—”
“I thought I lost my keys earlier this week. I couldn't open up the library.” Her words come out rushed, frantic. "I thought I dropped them somewhere, thought I was just being careless, but—”
“Okay, but you're here now and everything is fine—”
“You fucked him in the office.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. My face falls, all the blood draining from my cheeks. “Maddison, I can explain—”
She waves her hand dismissively, cutting me off. “I don't care, Toren. I really don't. The point is, you two weren't the only ones in here that night.”
The world tilts sickeningly beneath my feet. “What?”
“I came here this morning to look for my keys, thought maybe I dropped them outside. But then I saw the lights on.” Her voice cracks. “When I came inside, I found this taped to the desk.”
She holds up a flash drive and a piece of paper, her hand shaking so badly they rattle together.
I snatch the paper from her with trembling fingers and read the message scrawled across it.
This goes viral unless you meet me.
Find me at Kenna's resting place after the game or I'll upload this.
No.
No, no, no, no.
Fear floods through me in a tidal wave so violent I can barely breathe. I grab the flash drive from Maddison's other hand, ignoring her protests as I jam it into the computer and slam my finger down on play.
The video loads.
And my entire world shatters.
Bile rushes up my throat as the image fills the screen, me and Xaden in the office, our bodies tangled together on the desk. The sound of my moans pour through the speakers, obscene and damning, and I'm powerless to stop the broken whimper that tears from my throat.
The camera angle is perfect. Crystal clear. There's no denying what's happening, no way to claim it's anything other than what it is.
And then… God… then it shows Xaden pushing the hockey stick inside me, and I'm dry-heaving, my vision blurring with tears as shame burns through me like wildfire.
Maddison yanks the flash drive out of the computer and wraps her arm around my shoulders as I bury my face in my hands, sobbing so hard I can barely catch my breath.
“Toren, I'm so sorry,” she whispers, her voice thick with pity that makes me want to crawl out of my skin. “I thought you knew about the cameras in here.”
I nod into my hands, choking on my tears. I did know about the cameras. But I didn't know there was one in the back office.
The realization slams into me with brutal clarity.
Meekan.
This has his fingerprints all over it. The timing, the method, the location he chose for the meeting, Kenna's grave.
“What are you going to do?” Maddison asks quietly.
I force myself to breathe, to think past the panic clawing at my insides. “I'm going to the game,” I hear myself say, my voice distant and hollow. “And after... I'll handle it.”
“Toren—”
“I'll handle it,” I repeat more firmly, wiping the tears from my face with shaking hands. “I just need you to not tell anyone about this. Please.”
She hesitates, conflict written all over her face. “Are you sure? Maybe you should—”
“Promise me, Maddison.”
After a long moment, she nods reluctantly. “Okay. But if you need help—”
“I know where to find you.”
By the time I pull into the parking lot at the rink, I've managed to construct some semblance of control over my emotions. I've shoved the shame and fear and disgust down into a locked box in my chest where they can't touch me.
Can't break me.
I need to get through this game. Need to smile and act normal and not let anyone see that I'm falling apart inside.
The parking lot is packed, cars everywhere, people streaming toward the entrance in a sea of school colors and excitement. The energy is electric, charged with anticipation for the rivalry game everyone's been waiting for.
Somerset Eagles versus Stormsend Ravens.
The game of the season.
I spot Harper near the entrance and make my way toward her, weaving through the crowd. When she sees me, her expression immediately shifts to concern.
“Tor? What happened? You look—”
“I need to talk to you,” I cut her off quietly, pulling her aside. “After the game, I have to meet someone.”
Her eyes narrow. “Who?”
I glance around to make sure no one's listening, then lean in close. “Meekan. He's blackmailing me with... something. I have to meet him at the cemetery after the game.”
“What? Toren, what the hell did he—”
“I can't explain right now,” I whisper urgently. “But I need you to know in case something goes wrong. Only you and Maddison know about this. Don't tell the guys. Not yet.”
Harper looks like she wants to argue, but something in my expression stops her. “Okay. But I'm going with you.”
“No—”
“I'm going with you,” she repeats firmly. “Non-negotiable.”
I don't have the energy to fight her, so I just nod.
We make our way inside the rink, and the moment we step through the doors, the noise hits me like a physical force. The crowd is massive, packed stands, people shouting, the band playing and the tension in the air is thick enough to choke on.
I scan the ice and my breath catches when I spot the team warming up.
And there he is.
My god of darkness.
My devil.
Xaden.
He moves across the ice like a predator, smooth, powerful, completely in control.
Even from here, I can feel the intensity radiating off him, the hunger to win burning in every movement.
The fact that he isn’t able to play today sucks but it was his punishment for what happened the last game.
I heard from Maddy that he has been helping coach his team for this game and he seems to be doing a good job from the way the rest of them are looking as they move around the ice.
I haven't seen him in days.
As if sensing my stare, his head turns and our eyes lock across the distance.
The impact is immediate and devastating. Even with all this space between us, I feel it, that magnetic pull that defies logic, that makes my heart race and my stomach drop and my skin burn with a need I have no right to feel.
His eyes darken, his jaw clenching as he takes me in. Then, deliberately, he turns his back and skates away.
The dismissal shouldn't hurt as much as it does.
Harper tugs on my arm. “Come on. Let's find our seats.”
We make our way toward the stands, but before we can reach our section, a voice cuts through the noise.
“Well, well. Look who decided to show up.”
I turn to find Cas standing there, arms crossed, a smirk playing at his lips. But there's something cold in his eyes that makes my skin crawl.
“Cas,” I acknowledge carefully.
“Your seat's not up there anymore, Terror.” His smirk widens into something cruel. “Didn't Xaden tell you? You belong to him now. That means you sit where he tells you to sit.”
Heat floods my face, half humiliation, half rage. “I don't belong to anyone—”
“Xaden!” Cas calls out, ignoring me completely.
No. God, please no.
Xaden skates over to the boards, and the intensity in his eyes as they lock onto mine. He says something to one of the guys, then disappears into the tunnel.
Two minutes later, he emerges and stalks toward me with a purpose that makes my pulse spike with equal parts fear and something far more dangerous.
“What are you doing here?” His voice is low, lethal.
I lift my chin defiantly even though my hands are shaking. “I came to watch the game.”
“In the stands?” He steps closer, invading my space, his presence overwhelming. “I don't think so, Tink.”
“I'll sit wherever I want—”
“You'll sit where I tell you to sit.” His hand shoots out, gripping my chin and forcing me to meet his eyes. “And right now, I'm telling you that you're sitting rink-side. In my section. Where everyone can see exactly who you belong to.”
“I don't belong to you,” I hiss, but my voice wavers.
His smile is cruel and beautiful and absolutely devastating. “Don't you?”
Before I can respond, he releases my chin and pulls off his practice jersey in one smooth motion. My breath catches as his bare chest is revealed, all hard muscle and ink, the evidence of our violence written across his skin.
Then he holds out a different jersey.
His game jersey.
Number 5.
“Put it on,” he commands.
“No.”
“Put. It. On.” Each word is punctuated with barely controlled rage. “Unless you want me to do it for you. And trust me, Tink, I won't be gentle about it.”
Harper grabs my arm. “Tor, just—”
“Listen to your friend,” Xaden says, his eyes never leaving mine. “Be a good girl and put on my jersey so everyone in this fucking rink knows exactly who you're here for.”
Shame and fury war inside me, but I'm trapped. If I refuse, he'll make a scene. And after everything with the video, with Meekan's blackmail, I can't afford any more attention.
With shaking hands, I take the jersey from him and pull it on over my shirt. It's too big, hanging off my frame, and it smells like him, that intoxicating mix of cologne, sweat and something uniquely Xaden that makes my head spin.
Just to spite him, I tug the elastic from my hair and let it cascade around me, then gather the front of the jersey and use the elastic to tie the front. When I don’t get a reaction from him, it pisses me off but I don’t let it show.
“Good girl,” he purrs, and the praise makes me hate myself for the way my body responds.
“Well,” he says, his voice dripping with satisfaction.
“Now that we've got that settled, my team has a game to win.” He looks down at me, his eyes burning with something I can't name.
“And you're going to watch. You're going to sit rink-side, wearing my jersey and cheer for me while I destroy your brother's dreams. Understood?”
I should fight back. Should refuse.
But all I can do is nod.
Because somewhere along the way, I've become exactly what I swore I'd never be.
His.
And the most terrifying part?
He has no idea that I’m stabbing him in the back right this very second.
Xaden releases me and skates back onto the ice to help his team finish warming up, leaving me standing there in his jersey, surrounded by the ruins of my family, with a secret growing inside me and a blackmailer waiting in the shadows.
The game is about to begin.
And I have a horrible feeling that by the time it's over, nothing will ever be the same again.
He will never forgive me for the treachery I’m about to commit against him.
Every ounce of hatred he feels toward me because of my last name will only intensify when he realizes what I have done to him.