19

MAYA

For a brief, dangerous second, the contract ceased to exist.

The rest of the afternoon blurred together. We attended a joint study session, grabbed lunch, and walked the campus. By the time the sun dipped below the tree line, exhaustion settled deep into my bones.

His black truck idled next to the curb outside my brick dorm building.

The streetlamps flickered on, casting dim yellow light into the quiet cabin. The engine rumbled a low, steady vibration.

Sitting in the passenger seat, my fingers picked at a loose thread on my sweatpants. The silence between us grew heavy. It crackled with unspoken tension.

"You did good today," Davies murmured, turning his body toward my seat. He rested his right arm over the steering wheel. "Chloe got her viral clip. The scouts will love the reformed bad boy angle."

"Glad I could help." My voice sounded breathless.

He unbuckled his seatbelt. The metallic click echoed in the small space.

Leaning across the wide center console, his massive frame closed the distance between us. His scent enveloped my senses—wintergreen gum and musky cologne. Reaching out, his knuckles brushed a stray curl away from my cheek. His touch felt searing hot against the cold evening chill.

My breath hitched.

His dark eyes dropped to my lips. A raw, intense hunger burned in his gaze. He moved closer. His warm breath fanned across my jawline. The invisible magnetic pull dragged my face toward his. My eyelids fluttered shut.

Then, panic struck.

A sharp alarm bell rang inside my skull. This was a trap. If his lips touched mine right now, in the quiet dark of his truck, with no cameras around, the lines would vanish forever. My heart would become collateral damage. I could not survive another betrayal.

Snapping my eyes open, my hands shot up. My palms hit his solid chest, pushing him back just inches before our mouths collided.

He froze. Confusion clouded his handsome features.

"Maya?" he whispered, his voice rough and confused.

"This was a contract, right?" The words rushed out in a frantic, desperate plea. "A business deal. For the media. For my mom."

Silence crashed down around us. The engine continued its low rumble.

Davies stared at my face. He searched my eyes for any sign of a joke. Finding none, the warmth drained from his expression. The hunger in his dark eyes extinguished, replaced by a cold, flat emptiness. His jaw tightened until a muscle jumped near his ear.

He pulled his body back into the driver's seat. His large hands gripped the steering wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles pure white.

Staring straight out the windshield, his profile turned to stone.

"Right." His voice sounded hollow. Dead. "Just a contract."

A sharp ache tore through my chest. The pain of rejection cut both ways. Grabbing my backpack, my trembling fingers yanked the heavy door handle.

"Goodnight, Davies."

He did not answer. He did not look my way.

Slamming the metal door shut, the cold night air hit my lungs. My boots carried me toward the dorm entrance in a fast, cowardly sprint. I did not look back. If I turned around, my resolve would shatter into a million pieces.

DAVIES

Fuck.

My fist slammed against the leather steering wheel. The loud smack echoed inside the truck cabin, but it did nothing to dull the burning rage in my gut.

Grinding my teeth together, a harsh breath tore from my lungs. I threw the gear shifter into drive. My heavy boot pinned the gas pedal to the floorboards. The rear tires squealed against the asphalt, leaving a thick cloud of burnt rubber in my wake.

Streetlights blurred past the windshield in streaks of yellow and white.

"Just a contract."

Her voice replayed in my brain on a relentless loop. The words tasted like poison.

She looked terrified. When my face got close to hers, pure panic flashed in her beautiful brown eyes. She threw that damn piece of paper in my face like a shield. She built a massive brick wall between us and locked the gate.

Disappointment crushed my chest. It felt heavier than a hundred-pound barbell.

I felt the shift during the interview. When my arm wrapped around her waist, she leaned into my side. She melted against my chest. Her pulse raced under my fingertips. It was not fake. The chemistry between us was a raging forest fire, but she refused to acknowledge the smoke. She was too scared of getting burned again.

Nathan broke her trust into jagged little pieces. Now, I had to bleed trying to pick them up.

Pulling into the ice arena parking lot, my tires kicked up a storm of gravel. The truck jerked to a violent halt.

Killing the engine, my hands grabbed the heavy hockey bag from the back seat. My boots hit the frozen pavement with murderous intent.

Pushing through the double glass doors, the cold air of the rink hit my face. It did not cool my temper. It fueled it.

The locker room was half full. The boys were suiting up for the evening scrimmage. The usual banter and loud music filled the cinderblock room.

Dropping my bag onto a wooden bench, the heavy canvas landed with a loud, aggressive thud.

The music cut off. The boys stopped talking.

Julian looked up from tying his skates. His bleach-blonde hair fell into his eyes. "Whoa. Captain looks like he wants to murder someone. Did Dogfang pull another stunt?"

"Gear up," my voice came out in a low, dangerous growl. "We are doing full contact drills tonight. No soft passing. No lazy skating."

Chad swallowed hard, tossing his tape roll into his locker. "Coach Vance said tonight was just light tactical work."

"I do not care what Vance said." Ripping my black hoodie over my head, my jaw set into stone. "Anyone who skates slow tonight gets benched for the Invitational. Move your asses."

Ten minutes later, my skates carved deep, violent grooves into the pristine white ice.

The freezing air burned my lungs, but the physical exertion felt amazing. It pushed the memory of her terrified eyes to the back of my mind.

Blowing the whistle, my stick slapped the ice. "Puck drops now! First line, get out here!"

The scrimmage turned into a brutal nightmare for the defensive squad.

Scooping the rubber puck off the face-off, my speed doubled. A massive surge of raw adrenaline pumped through my veins. The opposing center tried to block my path. Dropping my left shoulder, a vicious body check sent him flying backward. He crashed into the plexiglass boards with a sickening thud.

"Keep your head up!" my roar echoed across the empty bleachers.

Pivoting sharp, my stick handled the puck in a dizzying blur. Two defensemen rushed me near the blue line. They tried to box me into the corner.

Using their momentum against them, a quick spin move left them crashing into each other.

Taking open ice, my target locked onto the net.

The goalie crouched low, his eyes wide behind his painted mask.

My core twisted. Drawing the stick high into the air, all the anger, frustration, and bitter disappointment channeled straight into my arms. The fiberglass stick snapped down, striking the black rubber with the force of a bomb.

The slap shot registered like a loud gunshot.

The puck flew past the goalie's glove so fast he never even twitched. It slammed into the back of the net, knocking the water bottle off the top rim. The plastic bottle exploded, showering the ice in a messy puddle.

Breathing heavy, a thick cloud of white vapor spilled from my lips.

The entire arena fell dead silent.

Even Coach Vance stood near the bench, his clipboard lowered, staring at the ice in pure shock.

Skating back to the center circle, my stick tapped the frozen surface. My blood boiled hot. The image of Nathan's smug face flashed in my mind. He was the reason she kept those walls up. He was the reason she viewed every guy as a threat.

"Line it up again!" my shout broke the silence, harsh and demanding.

Friday night could not come fast enough. I could not force Maya to drop her guard, and I could not force her to tear up that stupid contract.

But I could sure as hell destroy the man who made her so terrified to love again.

Dogfang was going to pay the price. And I was going to collect every single drop of blood they owed.