Chapter Thirty-Three
TOREN
I can't stop fidgeting with the hem of Xaden's jersey.
It's too big, hanging off my frame like a brand, and everyone—everyone—is staring. I can feel their eyes boring into me, hear the whispers spreading through the crowd like poison.
That's Toren Kellar.
Masen's sister.
In Xaden Devlin's jersey.
What the hell is she doing?
Did you hear they—
“Ignore them,” Harper says firmly beside me, squeezing my hand. “Just focus on the game.”
But how can I focus on the game when I'm sitting rinkside in enemy territory, wearing the jersey of the guy who hates me but loves to fuck me?
I scan the crowd, trying to spot my father but I don’t see him anywhere. He’s supposed to be here, Harper’s guys are waiting to take him after the game!
A pang of sadness slams into me when I look over at the Eagles and don’t see Kellan with his team. My eyes are drawn to the spot where Xaden took his life, my chest constricting at the memory and the look on his face as his heart beat for the last time.
The teams take the ice for warm-ups and my breath catches when I spot Masen.
He's skating with Somerset Eagles, his face set in hard lines of concentration. But then his eyes sweep the rink and land on me.
On the jersey I'm wearing.
I watch the exact moment recognition hits. Watch his face slacken, then go red with fury. He actually stops skating, just stands there staring at me like I've driven a knife into his back.
“Oh shit,” Harper breathes. “He sees you.”
“I know.” My voice comes out hard.
Masen skates toward our section, and for a moment I think he's going to jump the glass and confront me right here. But, one of his teammates grabs his arm, pulling him back, saying something I can't hear.
He tears his gaze away from me but I can see it, the rage.
He blames me for Kellan’s death. How he found out was fucking horrible, and I do feel bad for my brother, but how he got it in his head that it was me that killed Kellan is a fucking mystery.
I shoot my brother a scathing look, telling him without words that I’m up to the challenge of taking him down.
The national anthem plays and I force myself to stand, to place my hand over my heart, to act normal even though everything inside me is screaming.
Our team lines up on the blue line and I notice Xaden isn't in the starting lineup. He would have been if he wasn’t banned from playing because of the fight at the last game.
He's on the bench, fully geared up, which almost seems cruel. To make him wear the uniform, knowing he can’t play is a new level of harshness.
He's their best player. Everyone knows it. But, after the fight from the last game, he’s not able to take the ice as a player.
The anthem ends and the crowd erupts. The ref drops the puck.
The game begins.
And it's brutal.
From the very first face-off, both teams are going at each other like they're trying to kill rather than score. Bodies slam into boards with sickening force. Sticks clash. The crowd is on their feet screaming.
This isn't just a hockey game.
This is a war.
Somerset scores first, a wrist shot that slips past our goalie's glove and their side of the rink explodes with celebration. I glance toward our bench and see Xaden lean forward, gripping his stick so hard I'm surprised it doesn't snap.
But Coach can’t put him in.
Our team answers back five minutes later, tying it up 1-1, and the energy in the building is absolutely electric.
I try to focus on the game, try to lose myself in the action, but I can feel eyes on me constantly. Students from both schools. Parents. Scouts. Everyone is trying to figure out what the hell Toren Kellar is doing sitting rink-side in Xaden Devlin's jersey.
And Masen. God, Masen keeps looking over at me every chance he gets. I can see how distracted he is, how unfocused. He's playing angry, taking stupid penalties, making careless mistakes.
Because of me.
He’s playing into Xaden’s hand exactly like he knew he would. Masen and I may be at odds but we still share blood, and the fact I dare to sit rinkside in his enemy’s jersey while his fans watch is bruising his ego.
The second period is somehow even more vicious than the first. Somerset scores again, taking the lead 2-1, and I watch our team's frustration mount with every failed attempt to tie it back up.
Harper leans close. “He must be so pissed.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, feeling bad he has to ride the bench.
The third period starts and Somerset comes out flying. They're hungry, confident, playing like they've already won.
Halfway through, they score again.
3-1.
The crowd's energy shifts, our side deflating, their side growing more raucous. People around us are starting to give up, sitting down, accepting defeat.
Then Brady takes a stupid penalty in frustration, cross-checking a Somerset player into the boards and suddenly we're down a man.
Power play for Somerset.
“This is bad,” Harper mutters.
She's right. This could be the final nail in the coffin. If Somerset scores on this power play, the game is effectively over.
I watch our penalty kill scramble, desperate to hold the line. Somerset passes the puck around our zone like they own it, taking their time, waiting for the perfect shot.
Then they take it.
A rocket from the point, heading straight for the top corner. Our goalie makes an absolutely impossible save, just barely getting a piece of it to tip it over the crossbar.
The crowd explodes.
And that's when I see movement on our bench.
Someone's standing up. Pulling on their helmet.
My heart stops.
Xaden.
“Oh my God,” I breathe. “He's going in.”
Harper grabs my arm. “Jesus Christ, finally.”
I watch, completely transfixed, as Xaden steps over the boards onto the ice for the first time tonight. The energy in the building shifts instantly, you can feel it crackling through the air like electricity before a storm.
Even Somerset notices. I see their players exchanging glances, see the way they straighten up, suddenly more alert. My brother is screaming at the ref, their side of the rink is protesting and demanding the ref call the game but he ignores them.
Somerset knows what’s coming.
Xaden skates to center ice for the face-off, and even from here I can see the intensity radiating off him. The hunger. The absolute determination to win.
The ref drops the puck.
Everything changes.
Xaden wins the face-off cleanly, sending the puck back to our defense, then he's off, moving with a speed and grace that steals my breath.
This is different from watching highlights or seeing him practice. This is Xaden Devlin unleashed, playing like every second matters, like this game is life or death.
And maybe, for him, it is.
Somerset tries to clear the zone but Xaden intercepts the pass like he knew exactly where it was going. He spins away from a defender, so fast the guy nearly falls trying to follow and races toward their goal.
Two Somerset players converge on him but he threads the puck between them to Cas, who one-times it immediately.
The goalie makes the save but can't control the rebound.
And Xaden is right there.
He buries it top shelf before the goalie can even react.
The building erupts.
I'm on my feet before I realize I'm moving, screaming along with everyone else as our bench empties onto the ice. Players swarm Xaden, helmets flying, sticks raised in celebration.
3-2.
Through all the chaos, through all the bodies and noise and madness, Xaden's eyes find mine.
He points directly at me.
Not subtle.
Not hidden.
He makes sure everyone in this entire rink sees him point at me.
Claiming me.
Branding me.
That goal was for you.
Heat floods my face and something dangerous unfurls in my chest, something that feels too much like pride, too much like possession.
Harper yanks on my arm. “Holy shit, Tor. Did you see that? He just—”
“I saw.” My voice sounds strange to my own ears.
The game resumes and Xaden is absolutely everywhere. He's like a different species out there. Faster, stronger, smarter than everyone else on the ice. Every shift he takes, Somerset is on their heels, scrambling to contain him.
It's beautiful and terrifying to watch.
Masen tries to check him at one point but Xaden sees it coming and side steps at the last second, making my brother crash into the boards so hard I flinch.
The clock ticks down.
Five minutes left. Four.
We're still down by one but the entire building believes now. You can feel it, the desperate hope, the rising energy.
Three minutes.
Xaden gets the puck at center ice and takes off. He splits two defenders with a move so fast I almost miss it, and suddenly he's got a clear lane to the goal—
Then Masen appears out of nowhere and slams into him from behind.
“No!” The scream tears from my throat as Xaden goes down hard, sliding into the boards with a sickening crunch that makes my stomach drop.
The whistle blows immediately. The ref's arm shoots up.
Penalty on Masen.
Around me, people are shouting, some cheering the penalty call, others booing. But I can't hear any of it over the roaring in my ears as I watch Xaden slowly push himself up off the ice.
He's favoring his left side. Moving carefully.
Please be okay.
He skates toward the bench and I see Coach grab his shoulder, asking him something. Xaden shakes his head, says something back.
He's not coming off.
Of course he's not.
This is Xaden Devlin. He'd play through a broken leg if it meant winning.
“Your brother's an idiot,” Harper mutters. “He just gave them a power play.”
She's right. And with Xaden on the ice, with our team having an extra man advantage, Somerset is in serious trouble.
The face-off is in Somerset's zone. Xaden lines up for it, and I watch one of their players lean in and say something to him. Something that makes Xaden's entire body go rigid.
The puck drops.
Xaden wins it, sending it back to the point, then drives straight to the net like a missile. The puck moves around the zone in crisp, perfect passes. Somerset's penalty kill is scrambling, trying to cover everyone at once.
Then the puck comes to Cas at the point. He winds up like he's going to shoot but instead passes it to Xaden in the slot.
Time seems to slow down.
I can see it all unfolding like I'm watching in slow motion, Xaden receiving the pass, the goalie setting his position, the defenders trying to close the gap.
Xaden releases the shot.
It's perfect.
The puck rockets past the goalie's outstretched glove and buries itself in the back of the net.
3-3.
The building loses its absolute mind.
People are screaming, jumping and hugging strangers. Our section is pure chaos. Even Harper is on her feet yelling.
But I can't move.
Can't breathe.
Because Xaden isn't celebrating.
He's just standing there on the ice, and he's looking directly at me.
The intensity in his gaze, even from this distance, even through his helmet, hits me like a physical force.
The clock restarts. Two minutes left.
Both teams are exhausted, you can see it in the way they're skating, desperation in every movement.
Overtime feels inevitable.
But Xaden hasn't left the ice. He should be gassed, should be finished, but he keeps going like he's fueled by something beyond human endurance.
One minute.
Somerset has possession, making one final desperate push for the go-ahead goal. They're in our zone, cycling the puck, looking for an opening.
Our defense holds. Barely.
One of our guys clears the puck and Xaden picks it up in our own zone.
Thirty seconds.
He takes off, two Somerset players chasing him but he's faster. Always faster.
He crosses their blue line with the defense collapsing on him. Too many bodies. He can't possibly get a shot off—
But then I see it. See what he sees.
Cas is streaking down the wing, completely wide open.
Twenty seconds.
Xaden makes the pass, through two sets of legs, across the ice, perfectly onto Cas's tape.
Cas doesn't hesitate. Doesn't even break stride.
He shoots.
The puck flies toward the net.
Ten seconds.
The goalie stretches, reaching—
It goes in.
4-3.
The horn sounds.
The clock hits zero.
Game over.
Our side of the rink explodes into absolute pandemonium. The team pours off the bench onto the ice, players piling onto Cas and Xaden, helmets flying everywhere, pure joy and relief and triumph.
We won.
Xaden won.
Through all the celebration, through all the chaos and noise and bodies, Xaden breaks away from his teammates. He skates directly toward the glass.
Toward me.
He pulls off his helmet and I can see his face clearly now, the split lip from earlier, the eye that's starting to swell, the blood and sweat and pure savage victory written across his features.
He's never looked more beautiful.
He presses his hand against the glass, palm flat, fingers spread.
Harper tugs on my arm. “Tor, maybe we should—”
But I'm already moving. Already stepping forward.
I press my palm against the glass, meeting his hand with only the barrier between us.
The crowd around us is going insane. Cameras are definitely catching this moment. Tomorrow everyone will be talking about it, analyzing it, tearing it apart.
I don't care.
All I care about is him. This impossible, infuriating, devastating man who makes me feel things I have no right to feel.
His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that makes my knees weak.
"One Kellar down," he mouths through the glass.
I go still, through all the chaos I forgot about who I was really dealing with. I forgot he’s the devil and hellbent on my destruction.
His smile is slow and dangerous, absolutely devastating.
Then Cas is pulling him away, back into the celebration, and the connection breaks.
Harper grabs my shoulders and turns me to face her. “Tor. You have to meet Meekan—”
“I know.” My voice sounds hollow and broken. “I know.”
Why can’t I stay away from him?
He’s bad for me!
He’s dangerous and pulled me into his world of hate.
I’ve lost everything because of him and my own family.
I should hate them all.
I'm drawn to Xaden Devlin like a moth to a flame, and we both know how that story ends.
In ash and ruin.
The crowd starts to disperse, people flooding toward the exits, but I stay rooted in place, staring at the ice where Xaden still celebrates with his team.
The game is over.
But the real battle?
It's just beginning.
And I have no idea if I'm going to survive it.
“Let’s go,” I whisper as I turn my back on my devil. Just as we make it outside my phone pings with a text.
Halo - Get back here now! It was a set up. They knew we were coming.
I’m torn between meeting Meekan and wanting to check in on the guys but then another text comes through and it makes the decision for me.
Halo - They took Carn down, he’s hurt… bad