Chapter 11

The first rule Sheila learned was simple.

Nothing happened in the open.

The second was worse.

Everything was deliberate.

By midweek, the arena felt less like a workplace and more like a board set up by unseen hands. Conversations stopped when she passed. Staff smiled too carefully. Security lingered just long enough to remind her they were watching not protecting.

And Atticus Finch?

He was everywhere.

Not physically close. Never hovering. But always present.

On the ice, he played like a man trying to outrun something chasing him. Off it, he barely spoke. When he did, it was clipped, sharp, and laced with warning.

They hadn’t talked alone since the office incident.

Which meant the tension had nowhere to go.

Until it snapped.

It happened during film review.

Sheila stood at the front of the room, remote in hand, footage paused mid-frame. Atticus was frozen on the screen—torso twisted, shoulder strained, jaw clenched.

She took a breath. “This angle here,” she said evenly, “shows delayed recovery after impact. It’s subtle, but it’s consistent.”

The room was quiet.

Too quiet.

Coach Rivera leaned forward. “You saying he’s injured?”

Sheila chose her words carefully. “I’m saying he’s compensating.”

Atticus didn’t look at her.

She felt it anyway.

Rivera nodded slowly. “We’ll adjust drills.”

Carter, lounging against the back wall, smiled.

Atticus finally looked up.

His eyes cut straight to her.

Cold. Controlled. Furious.

After the meeting ended, Sheila packed her things quickly. She didn’t want an audience for this.

She almost made it out.

“Feint.”

She stopped.

Didn’t turn.

“You just put a target on my back,” Atticus said.

She faced him slowly. “I did my job.”

“You escalated.”

“I documented patterns,” she replied. “That’s literally why I’m here.”

His jaw tightened. “You could’ve flagged it privately.”

“And let it disappear?” she shot back. “Like everything else?”

His eyes flashed. “You don’t understand the cost.”

She stepped closer. “Then stop talking around it and tell me.”

The hallway was empty. Quiet enough to hear the ice machine humming through the walls.

Atticus exhaled sharply. “They’re looking for a reason.”

“To what?” she pressed.

“To bench me. To control me. To make an example.”

She folded her arms. “Then why keep pushing yourself until you break?”

His laugh was short and bitter. “Because breaking on my terms is better than being dismantled on theirs.”

She stared at him. “That’s insane.”

“Welcome to the league.”

She shook her head. “You’re not indestructible.”

“I don’t need to be,” he said. “I just need to last longer than them.”

“And what about everyone who gets caught in the middle?” she asked quietly.

His gaze flicked to hers.

Something shifted.

“You think I don’t see that?” he said. “You think I don’t notice you flinching every time someone says your name?”

She stiffened. “I’m fine.”

“No,” he said. “You’re brave. There’s a difference.”

She hated that her throat tightened.

“I didn’t ask for your protection,” she said.

“I know.”

“Then stop acting like I owe you something.”

He stepped closer. Not threatening. Intent.

“I’m not protecting you because you owe me,” he said. “I’m protecting you because you won’t play their game.”

Her heart thudded. “Neither do you.”

“That’s why this is dangerous,” he said softly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then she said, “Carter is circling.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re letting him.”

“No,” Atticus corrected. “I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“For him to overreach.”

She studied his face. “You’re planning something.”

His mouth curved slightly. “So are you.”

She didn’t deny it.

“I’m not backing down,” she said. “And I’m not staying quiet.”

“Good,” he said. “Just don’t do it alone.”

She hesitated. “Are you asking to work together?”

His eyes held hers. “I’m asking you not to be reckless.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I give.”

She sighed. “You’re impossible.”

“Usually.”

She started to walk away, then stopped. “They went through my office.”

“I know.”

Her pulse jumped. “How?”

“I have eyes,” he said. “In places they forget about.”

She turned back. “You could’ve told me sooner.”

“I wanted to see how you’d react.”

Anger flared. “I’m not an experiment.”

“No,” he said firmly. “You’re a variable.”

She frowned. “That’s not better.”

“It is when variables disrupt systems.”

She shook her head, but there was something dangerously close to a smile tugging at her lips.

“Next time,” she said, “warn me.”

Atticus nodded. “Next time, don’t corner Carter alone.”

They stared at each other, the argument unresolved but strangely balanced.

Then Carter’s voice echoed from down the hall.

“Ah,” he said pleasantly. “There you both are.”

Sheila’s spine straightened.

Atticus didn’t move.

Carter’s gaze bounced between them. “You’re becoming quite the duo.”

Sheila spoke before Atticus could. “Is there something you need?”

Carter smiled. “Just a reminder. Analysts rotate next month.”

Her chest tightened. “I wasn’t informed.”

“You will be,” he said lightly. “Soon.”

Atticus’s voice was ice. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Carter chuckled. “You don’t get to decide that anymore.”

He walked off.

Silence followed.

Sheila let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “That was a threat.”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t react.”

“Not yet.”

She looked at him. “What happens when you do?”

Atticus met her gaze, something dark and determined in his eyes.

“Then,” he said, “things get messy.”

She swallowed.

For the first time since stepping into the arena, Sheila Feint realized something with terrifying clarity.

This wasn’t just about survival anymore.

It was about choosing sides.

And whether she liked it or not..

She was already standing next to Atticus Finch.