تسجيل الدخولImpressing the Calculus professor might just have been the best thing Noah had done today but at the worst possible time because after class, the GSI had told him the professor wanted to see him in his office immediately. Noah could not say no, although he had considered that option for exactly half a second, because he was tired of carrying around a briefcase that felt more illigal every minute he carried it. Refusal was not really an option, unless he wanted to attract attention, so he went.Over the next hour and a half, he had sat in that office, taking an oral exam for 215. An hour and a half with two million dollars’ worth of cocain sitting beside his chair while the professor grilled him on derivatives, limits, proof and integration techniques. At the end, the professor was genuinely impressed and Noah had gotten four extra credits. Coach would be happy about that but that hour and a half had been torture for Noah because of what was in that briefcase and he thought he deserved
It was already 9:52 am when the SUV rolled south on Church Street. There were no parking spots open so they double parked with hazards right in the bus lane, just short of the glass-front entrance to East Hall. The engine idled low and steady, calm, like everything about this morning wasn’t about to split Noah clean in half. They had less than three minutes to stay there.“You get off here,” the driver said and the other tossed the briefcase across Noah’s lap before he had the chance to turn. “Class starts at 10, don’t it?” he said casually. “Meaning you have less than ten minutes to get seated. Wouldn’t want you to be late on your first day.”Noah snapped his head up. “I cannot possibly enter class holding this,” he said, the alarm in his voice slipping through before he could stop it.A briefcase was the kind of thing corporate partners carried into glass offices with million-dollar deals behind them, not something a scholarship hockey player should be holding ten minutes before cla
The house they had brought him too this time was smaller, much smaller than the villa, but not modest. Not even close. And that was the first thing Noah noticed when the SUV finally slowed and came to a stop. It sat tucked away behind a wrought-iron gate, but the wealth could not be hidden. Clean lines, dark windows and no lights on outside except for the faint glow near the entrance. The place was quiet.“Out.” The man said as the SUV door slid open.Noah stepped down onto the pavement, his eyes adjusting quickly as he took in his surroundings. The air felt colder here. Or maybe it was just the way his body reacted to being brought somewhere like this again.“Nice place,” he muttered and no one responded. Maybe he really didn’t know when to stop talking.They didn’t bother with the cloth bag this time. There was no need for theatrics as Noah already knew who he was dealing with and he could already guess where this was going. The interior was just as controlled as everything else Adr
By 8:15 a.m., Jenkins returned to the rink and flipped his notebook open. At the bottom of the page, he circled a line twice and put a star next to it: Noah H - line 1 Friday?Out on the ice, the tension was still obvious, but practice had settled down to quieter rhythms. The sharp chaos of drills was replaced by the easy scrape of skates on ice, the low murmur of voices, and the clatter of sticks being dropped carelessly against the boards. In the locker room, Chase moved straight to the wall, ripped the poster off and dumped it in the trash before stepping out.Noah didn’t need to read it, he was already living it. He stepped out of the locker room a few minutes later and took a seat along the side, elbows resting on his knees as he caught his breath. The sweat on his skin turned cold quickly in the rink air as it cooled, raising a faint shiver along his arms. His body ached in that familiar way as his lungs worked to settle, it wasn’t steady, it was manageable and for a moment, it a
Monday, 6:30 AM. A full week had passed since since Adrian Voss had “assigned” him to be under Chase, but normal was what he needed to be, with no Adrian Voss and no late-night threats wrapped in polite conversation. Just hockey.The rink was already alive by the time he stepped onto the ice. Twenty six guys on the ice. The cold hit him first, cutting through the lingering fatigue in his bones, then came the sound, skates carving into ice, sticks clashing, bodies colliding with controlled aggression. The rhythm of it all was familiar enough to anchor him, even if everything else in his life felt like it was slipping further out of control.Something had shifted after Saturday clash with Chase. Nobody said it, but everyone felt it. It wasn’t quite division, not unity either, just awareness. It was obvious in the way conversations paused when he passed, in the way the rest of the team split on the ice, and most of all, it showed in Chase.Noah didn’t look at him immediately, but he knew
The Voss villa on Barton Hills didn’t feel like a house, it felt like a statement of wealth, power and control, and it looked even more intimidating at night with the long driveway stretching ahead of him, lined with low lights that cast a soft glow over the perfectly trimmed hedges. Or maybe Noah just noticed it more.He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets as he approached the gate, the cold evening air biting at his skin. It had taken him longer to get here because he had to do a little of walking and waiting for the bus. By the time he arrived, it was well past seven.He stepped up to the security post and one of the men straightened, his gaze sharp as it landed on him. “You’re late.”“Yeah. Turns out I’m not rich enough to have a car waiting for me.” Noah replied dryly. The man didn’t react and he didn’t even look remotely amused. “Follow me.”Noah huffed under his breath but said nothing else, falling into step behind him as the gates slid open with a quiet mechanical hum.







