004

Mila Torres had stayed later than usual at the Titans facility, finishing up paperwork, reviewing recovery protocols, and making notes for tomorrow’s drills. The building had emptied hours ago, the buzz of activity replaced by an eerie, almost sacred stillness.

She paused outside the rink door, glancing at the polished ice through the massive windows. It was smooth.

Her steps echoed softly as she pushed the door open. Alone, Mila felt the full weight of the silence. It was calming but also unnerving. There were no players, no protective eyes of Ryder, no judging gaze of Carson. Just the ice and her thoughts.

Footsteps behind her made her stiffen immediately. She spun, eyes wide, hand reaching instinctively toward her clipboard. But it wasn’t Ryder. It was Luka Valek. He stepped lightly onto the edge of the rink, his dark eyes calm, predatory even, yet magnetic in a way that made her pulse quicken despite the emptiness of the space.

“You’re still here,” he said. He stayed a little bit far away.

“I had things to finish,” Mila replied, trying to sound casual, though her heart raced. “I like to stay ahead of the schedule.” She kept her hands visible, unclenching the clipboard, trying not to betray the flutter of nerves beneath her calm exterior.

Luka’s gaze lingered on her—the way she shifted her weight, the tilt of her head, the brief flash of her pulse against her neck.

“You work well under pressure,” he said finally, his tone soft, almost a murmur. Not a compliment exactly, but an acknowledgment. Mila tilted her head, unsure how to respond. She wasn’t used to attention that didn’t feel performative, that didn’t carry the sting of judgment or expectation.

“I…do my job,” she said carefully. “It is what I trained for.”

Luka stepped closer. “I’ve noticed,” he said simply. “You are careful…aware of everything. Even when people think you are not.”

Mila wet her lips. She could feel the tension building between them. She wanted to take a step back but found herself rooted, curiosity and wariness tangled together.

The rink was empty, amplifying every small sound—the soft scrape of her shoes on the concrete, Luka’s steady breathing. She could feel his gaze on her back as she approached the ice, her reflection rippling across the surface like a distorted mirror.

“Do you come here often when no one is around?” she asked cautiously, forcing a casual tone.

“Not often,” he replied, eyes following her every movement. “But I like the silence. It’s…revealing.” His gaze shifted from her face to her hands, her posture, then back to her eyes. “People reveal themselves in stillness. In moments without distractions.”

Mila tilted her head, intrigued. There was a rhythm to his words, as if every syllable was calculated. Yet beneath it, she sensed a pull she didn’t fully understand. She had learned to trust her instincts with players, with teammates, even with Carson’s subtle manipulations. And her instincts were telling her Luka’s attention was different.

“You observe a lot,” she said, stepping closer to the edge of the ice. “Do you always analyze this thoroughly?”

“Only when it matters,” he replied. “I notice patterns. I notice what people try to hide, what they reveal without meaning to.” His eyes locked with hers. “And I notice competence when it is genuine.”

Mila felt a shiver run down her spine.

“I don’t hide much,” she said cautiously, lowering her voice. “I prefer to be straightforward.”

Luka’s lips curved faintly. “Good,” he said softly. “I don’t respond well to pretense.”

For a long moment, they stood in silence. Mila’s heart pounded, the stillness magnifying every thought, and flutter of awareness she had of him. She could feel the power of his focus, and it left her feeling both exposed and oddly safe.

“You’re not like the others,” Luka said finally, breaking the silence. “You handle scrutiny, pressure…people who try to intimidate you. Most would falter.”

Mila felt a small flush rise in her cheeks.

“I’ve…learned to expect it,” she replied carefully. “Every place has its challenges. People have their…ways of testing you.”

He nodded slowly. “Yes. And some tests aren’t verbal. Some are subtle, psychological, even personal.” His eyes held hers. “You don’t falter under them. I like that.”

For a brief moment she allowed herself to relax, leaning lightly against the railing that edged the rink. “I…appreciate that,” she said softly. “It’s not always easy to maintain composure, but…you notice.”

“I notice a lot,” he replied, stepping closer. “Even things you don’t say, Torres.”

Mila shifted, letting herself glance around the empty rink, then back at him. “It’s peaceful,” she said finally, her voice soft. “In a way, it’s easier to focus without distractions.”

“Yes,” Luka agreed quietly. “Peace reveals a lot. It’s when people are most honest with themselves… and with others.” His gaze softened just slightly.

Mila nodded, feeling a rare sense of trust growing. She could sense his silent obsession, the focus he gave her, and it didn’t feel threatening—yet it was undeniably powerful. She felt the edges of control slipping just enough to test herself, to see how far she could let someone in without losing her own composure.

“Do you trust easily?” he asked.

“I…trust carefully,” she replied honestly, meeting his gaze. “But I can sense when it is warranted.”

Luka’s lips curved faintly, approvingly. “Right,” he said softly. “Because I have noticed you, Torres. Observed more than most realize. And…you handle scrutiny, observation, and pressure with a skill most lack. That is rare.”

Mila felt a small shiver run down her spine. “I…try,” she murmured, almost distracted by his gaze.

For a few more moments, they stood there, watching the ice, the empty space, and each other. Luka’s presence made Mila’s mind race and slow simultaneously.

Finally, Luka stepped back slightly, giving her space but keeping his eyes locked on hers. “Midnight calm isn’t for everyone,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “But it suits you.”

Mila exhaled slowly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “It’s…different. Comfortable in a strange way.”

He nodded, silent for a heartbeat longer, then gave a slight bow of acknowledgment, turning toward the door. “Be careful,” he said quietly. “The Titans world is full of challenges. Not everyone you meet will be…what they seem.”

Mila watched him leave, the echo of his footsteps fading into the silence of the empty rink.

She leaned lightly against the railing for a long moment, letting the emotions, and thrill settle.

For the first time in days, Mila felt a profound sense of clarity. She was right where she belonged—on the edge of danger, intrigue, and silent fascination, learning who to trust, when to guard her heart, and how to navigate the dangerous, intoxicating currents of the Titans world.

Her fingers brushed the railing lightly as she finally turned to leave the rink. Luka’s warning, his gaze, his presence—all of it would stay with her, etched in memory.

And Mila Torres knew—whatever challenges awaited tomorrow, whatever scrutiny, whatever protective shadows emerged—she could handle them. She could survive them. And she could navigate the silent, magnetic obsession of Luka Valek without losing herself.