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Calen's POV
I pushed the locker room door open and walked straight into a nightmare.
Karl stood in the center of the room, his hands buried deep inside a steel locker. Not *on* it. *Inside* it. The metal screamed as it folded inward under his grip, bending like aluminum foil. Blood dripped from his knuckles onto the white tiles below, each drop echoing in the silence. I stopped breathing. My brain tried to make sense of what I was seeing, but it kept stuttering on one stupid, impossible thought:
“Lockers aren’t supposed to bend.”
Then I saw the rest of him.
His back was to me, bare and slick with sweat, but something about it was wrong. His muscles moved beneath his skin in ways they shouldn’t… rippling, shifting, like something underneath was trying to claw its way out. His spine stood out in sharp ridges, each bone pronounced and animal. The air reeked of copper and something else. Something I didn’t have a name for. Wild and hungry.
Karl went still.
Then he turned around.
His eyes hit me first… burning gold in the dim fluorescent light, nothing human left in them. Blood stained the corner of his mouth, dark and fresh. When his lips pulled back, I saw teeth. Canines too long, too sharp, made for tearing and killing.
We stared at each other.
My thoughts scattered like broken glass. This was Karl Brennan. Captain of the university swim team. The guy who’d broken three records this year alone. The golden boy everyone worshipped… coaches, teammates, random girls who hung around practice just to watch him cut through the water. He was perfect. The kind of person who made life look easy, who collected admirers like other people collected loose change.
And I was nothing.
A benchwarmer. The guy who showed up to practice, did the drills, and never once got called to compete. I was background noise. Half the team probably didn’t even know my name. I’d accepted that a long time ago. I wasn’t bitter about it… just realistic. People like Karl existed in one world, and people like me existed in another, and those worlds didn’t touch.
Except now they had.
The absurdity of it hit me hard enough to make me dizzy. Of all the people who could’ve walked in here, it had to be me. The guy nobody noticed. The guy nobody cared about. Karl had everything… power, fame, control over every room he walked into. Why the hell would someone like him need to be… this? What was he hiding from? What was he hiding as?
I almost laughed.
Then I remembered why I was here.
I’d come back for my phone. That was it. That was the only reason I’d pushed through that door instead of heading home like everyone else. I’d left it in my locker after practice, and I’d turned around halfway to the parking lot because I knew I’d need it in the morning. Something so small. If I’d just kept walking, I wouldn’t be standing here right now and be staring at a monster wearing my captain’s face.
But I was.
And he was staring back.
Reality crashed into me all at once. Karl took a step forward, slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on mine. My body moved before my brain caught up. I spun around and ran.
I didn’t make it two steps.
Something massive slammed into me from behind, and the world tilted violently. My chest hit the floor hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs, and then Karl’s weight came down on top of me, pinning me in place. I couldn’t move or breathe. He was too strong, and heavy, and the heat pouring off his body was wrong… burning, suffocating, like standing too close to a fire.
I tried to push up, to twist away, but his hand pressed down between my shoulder blades and held me there effortlessly.
“Please…” I gasped, my voice barely a whisper.
Karl leaned down, his mouth close to my ear. When he spoke, his voice was low and controlled, almost calm. But underneath it, I heard something else. Something sharp.
“You saw something you weren’t meant to see.”
My heart hammered against the floor. “I won’t… I won’t say anything. I swear. I’ll forget this ever happened…”
“Oh! Really?”
His breath was hot against my neck. I felt him shift, felt the weight of him settle more firmly against my back, trapping me completely. Panic clawed up my throat. I’d seen enough movies to know how this went. The guy who saw too much didn’t get to walk away. He didn’t get a second chance.
I was going to die here.
On the locker room floor, pinned under the golden boy everyone loved, and nobody would ever know why.
“Please,” I tried again, hating how my voice cracked. “Please, I…”
Karl lowered his head.
His nose brushed the side of my neck, and I went rigid. He inhaled slowly, deeply, like he was breathing me in. My pulse thundered in my ears. I waited for the pain… for teeth sinking into skin, for everything to go dark.
But it didn’t come.
Instead, Karl went very, very still.
Then he laughed.
It was quiet, almost surprised, and it sent ice racing down my spine.
“You smell fucking irresistible.”
I didn’t understand. Couldn’t process the words. They didn’t make sense… not here, not now, not from him. But the way he said it, low, rough and hungry, made something in me scream to run even though I was already trapped.
His hand slid up from my back to the base of my neck, fingers curling possessively around the back of my skull. He held me there, his thumb pressing against the rapid flutter of my pulse.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
I couldn’t answer. My mouth wouldn’t work.
Karl’s grip tightened just slightly… not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me he could. “I asked you a question.”
“Calen,” I choked out. “My name’s Calen.”
“Calen,” he repeated, like he was tasting it. Then, quieter, almost to himself: “I’ve seen you at practice.”
That shocked me more than anything else. He’d noticed me?
“You’re the one who never talks to people,” Karl continued. His voice had changed… still dangerous, and wrong, but there was something else in it now. Curiosity, and amusement. “The benchwarmer.”
Shame burned through the fear. Even now, even like this, that’s all I was to him.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “That’s… me.”
Karl was quiet for a long moment. His thumb traced a slow circle against my neck, and I shivered despite the heat radiating from him. When he finally spoke again, his voice had dropped even lower.
“Do you know what happens to people who see what you just saw, Calen?”
I closed my eyes. “You kill them.”
“Smart.”
My stomach dropped.
“But you…” Karl trailed off, leaning in closer. His lips brushed the shell of my ear, and I felt his smile. “You’re different.”
I didn’t know what that meant. Didn’t know if it was better or worse. All I knew was that I was still breathing, still alive, and that had to count for something.
“What are you going to do to me?” I managed.
Karl pulled back just enough to look down at me. I couldn’t see his face, but I felt his gaze burning into the back of my head.
Franklin’s POVMy legs made the decision before my brain did.One second I was standing in the doorway of the changing room, and the next I was turning, moving fast, trying to put as much distance between myself and what I had just seen as my legs would allow. The image was already burned behind my eyes… the wound that had been there, red and deep, and then simply not. Like it had never happened. Like flesh could just decide to close itself and move on.I made it two steps into the corridor.A hand closed around my wrist.The grip was iron. Not painful exactly, but absolute… the kind of hold that communicates very clearly that the person applying it is not exerting even close to their full strength. I was pulled back and around before I could plant my feet, and then my back was against the wall and Rydan was in front of me.His eyes were black.Not dark brown, not some trick of the light in a dim corridor… black. Fully, completely black, the way eyes don’t go. It lasted only a moment
Franklin’s POVThe words stayed in my ear long after he had moved away.I didn’t react. I didn’t spin around, didn’t shove him back, didn’t do any of the things my body was screaming at me to do. I just kept moving, kept my grip on the stick tight, and my eyes forward. My heart was going faster than it should have been, and it had nothing to do with the drill.I was scared.Not of him specifically… of what he represented. Of how easily one whispered word could reduce everything I was trying to build here into something small and dirty. I had come to Frostbite to move forward. To do what I needed to do. And already, within days, I was being handed a label I hadn’t earned and couldn’t shake.But I finished the session. Every last minute of it.When the coach called time and the others started peeling off toward the changing rooms, I stayed. I don’t know exactly when I made that decision. It wasn’t dramatic… I just didn’t move when everyone else did, and then they were gone and I was sti
Franklin’s POVThe door opened again about four minutes after it had closed.I hadn’t moved from the bench. My hand was still bleeding, slow and steady, and I had pressed the edge of my sleeve against it more out of habit than any real effort to deal with it. My friend’s words were still sitting in my head, but I hadn’t had time to turn them over properly before footsteps crossed the floor toward me.Rydan stopped a few feet away.He didn’t come close this time. He held the first aid kit out at arm’s length, the way you’d pass something to a stranger on a bus… far enough that there was a clear gap between us, far enough that our hands wouldn’t meet. I looked at the kit, then at him.His face gave nothing away.I reached forward and took it from him. The moment my fingers closed around it, he let go and stepped back. I sat there holding it, half expecting him to say something… an explanation, an instruction, anything. But he just stood there at that distance, watching me with those gre
Franklin’s POVI had never been the kind of person who backed down from a challenge, and standing on that field with every eye on me, I wasn’t about to start.Rydan’s words were still hanging in the air when I dropped my bag and stepped forward. Someone tossed me a stick without being asked, and I caught it with one hand. A few of the guys exchanged glances. I didn’t look at any of them. I kept my eyes ahead and got into position.The first few minutes went better than I expected.I moved well enough that the murmuring from the sidelines changed in tone. I could feel it without looking… the shift from mild amusement to something closer to actual attention. My footwork was clean, my control decent. I had trained hard at Cresthaven before everything fell apart, and whatever that place had taken from me, it hadn’t taken that.I pushed forward, reading the space between the defenders, calculating the angle. The goal was there, open enough, and I went for it.I don’t know exactly what happ
Franklin’s POVThe cab pulled away before I even got my second bag off the ground, leaving me standing at the entrance of Frostbite Hockey Academy with nothing but cold air biting at my neck and the sound of my own breathing.I stood there for a moment, just taking it in.The academy was massive, more than I had imagined when I first read the transfer documents. Iron gates, tall and black, stretched across the entrance like something out of a gothic novel. Beyond them, buildings rose in clean, sharp lines against a pale sky. Snow dusted the rooftops and clung to the edges of the pavement. Everything looked permanent, like it had been standing long before I was born and would keep standing long after I left.Which, given how things ended at my last school, might not be too long.I grabbed both bags and pushed through the smaller side gate that had been left open. My boots crunched over the thin layer of ice that coated the path leading toward the main building. The cold here was differ
Calen’s POVI didn’t open the letter the night before.I’m not sure why exactly. I sat with it in my hands for a long time while Karl watched without pushing, and something about the weight of the day already behind me made adding one more revelation feel like too much. I put it on the desk, changed, and went to sleep earlier than I had in months.I woke up at six in the morning and read it before I’d even made coffee.The paper was older than I expected. Not ancient, not crumbling, but the kind of aged that comes from years in a drawer somewhere, the edges soft, the fold lines deep and permanent. The handwriting was neat and deliberate, the kind that belonged to someone who’d learned to write in an era when handwriting was considered a reflection of character.It was addressed to me by name.Not *to whom it may concern*, not *to the Reed child*. My name. My full name, the one my parents had chosen before I was born, written by someone who had known what that name would be.I read it







