Chapter 4: The Rinkside

The door to The Rinkside sticks, and Jessie has to shoulder it twice before it swings open.

"Okay, why does it always smell like beer and wet jackets in here?" Tinsley says, already pushing past her.

"That's the point, Tins." Brooke follows, unwinding her scarf. "Come on, I need a drink. Like, three drinks."

"Can we just sit in the corner and not be perceived?" Jessie mutters, but nobody hears her. The bass is too loud.

The floor is sticky. Actually sticky, like someone spilled a whole pitcher of something sweet three years ago and nobody bothered to mop. Neon wolf signs buzz overhead, washing everything in red and gold. The glasses on the tables are vibrating.

"Ooh, there they are." Tinsley grabs Jessie's arm. "Corner booth. Look."

The team is hard to miss. They take up half the bar, spilling out of a massive booth near the back, and Lila Beaumont is practically in Martins's lap. Her legs are draped across his thighs, and she's laughing at something he didn't say, one hand playing with the collar of his shirt.

"She's wearing a top held up by double-sided tape," Tinsley says. "I give it ten minutes before something pops out."

"Okay, but like. Look at them," Brooke says. "It's illegal to be that hot."

"I'm not looking." Jessie is looking. Right at Martins. Something pinches in her chest, and she hates it. He's not even doing anything. Just sitting there, one arm along the back of the booth, his jaw tight like he's thinking about something else entirely.

Jonah is spinning a coaster on the table. Silas is staring at the wall, totally checked out.

"Jessie. Jess. Hello?" Tinsley snaps her fingers in front of Jessie's face. "I'm gonna go... say hi to Trent. He's by the back hallway."

"I saw him first," Brooke says.

"You literally didn't."

"Whatever." Tinsley is already moving. "Don't wait up."

She disappears toward the back hallway, where Trent Lasky is leaning against the wall with that dumb smirk he always has. A second later, Nolan Pike slides up to their table and leans into Brooke's space.

"Hey. Can I buy you a shot?"

Brooke glances at Jessie. "You good?"

"I'm fine. Go."

"You sure?"

"Brooke. Seriously. Go."

Brooke grins and lets Nolan lead her toward the bar. Jessie exhales and pushes through the crowd toward the counter, squeezing between two guys arguing about the game. Jenna Kline is behind the bar, wiping down the wood with a rag that smells like bleach.

"Rough night, mascot?" Jenna doesn't look up. "Heard you broke the cage door."

"Shut up, Jenna."

"Just saying. That thing was steel."

"Can I get a drink or what? Whatever's cheapest."

Jenna pours something amber into a glass and slides it over. "Try not to break anything else."

"Not making promises."

She sips the drink. It burns. Good. She's still buzzing from the locker room, the way Silas looked at her throat, that word sliding through her head. Mine. She rubs her neck without thinking.

Someone drops onto the stool beside her.

"So. You survived."

Jonah Kline. He smells like spearmint gum and clean sweat, and he's way too close. His knee bumps hers under the bar.

"I'm not really in the mood, Kline."

"Ouch." He grins. "Still mad about the suit? I can buy you a drink to make up for the whole..." He mimes ripping a door off its hinges.

"You already owe me a new cage door. And an explanation."

"I told you. It just came off."

"It didn't come off. You tore it off."

"Yeah." He rubs the back of his neck. "I don't really know how that happened, honestly. Adrenaline? Maybe I'm stronger than I look."

"You look exactly that strong."

"You think I look strong?"

"I think you're annoying."

He grins again, and it's so genuine she almost forgets to be mad. Almost. His hand brushes her elbow, and her skin tingles where he touched.

She glances past him. Across the room, in a dark booth by himself, Silas had been sitting. Not drinking. Just watching. His attention hasn't moved from her since she walked in.

"Vane's skeevy, right?" Jonah follows her gaze. "Dude barely blinks. I've known him for three years and I still can't figure out what goes on in his head."

"I wasn't looking at him."

"Sure you weren't."

The music gets louder. Jonah leans in to shout something, and his hand drops to her waist. To steady her. That's what he'd say, anyway. Keeping her from falling off the stool.

"Seriously though," he says, close to her ear. "You good? You look like you're gonna bolt."

"I'm fine."

His thumb brushes her hip through her hoodie. She stops breathing for half a second.

"Move your hand."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

He doesn't move it. And then.

A sound cuts through the bass. Low. Vibrating. It rattles her teeth and travels down her spine and settles somewhere deep in her stomach. A growl. Not human. Not possible.

Jonah's hand goes still.

"Did you hear that?" she whispers.

His voice comes out tight. "Hear what?"

"Don't do that. Don't pretend."

He pulls his hand back. Looks away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She scans the bar. Nobody else flinched. A couple of guys are shooting pool near the back. Tinsley is laughing in the hallway with Trent, her hand on his chest. Brooke is doing a shot off the bar with Nolan, their shoulders touching. Normal. Everything is normal except the three hockey players who keep tracking her like she's something they want.

Across the booth, Martins hasn't looked away from them. His jaw is tight, and Lila is tugging on his sleeve.

"Martins? Babe, you're crushing my hand."

He doesn't answer. He's looking at Jonah's hand on the bar, inches from Jessie's arm. His attention fixed on the space between them.

Jonah follows her gaze. "Ah. The captain's pissed."

"Why would he be pissed?"

"No idea." But he's already sliding off the stool. "I should, uh. Go check on something."

"Sure. Go."

He hesitates. "Jessie. Whatever you think you heard..."

"I didn't hear anything."

He nods, but he doesn't look convinced. He disappears into the crowd.

Jessie takes a long sip of her drink. Her fingers are curled tight around the glass. She sets it down and pushes off the stool, heading for the restrooms. The hallway is dimmer, quieter. The bass fades to a dull thump. She can finally hear herself think.

Get to the bathroom. Splash water on your face. Breathe. You're losing it.

She leans against the wall, pressing a hand to her chest. Her pulse won't settle. The air feels thick.

A shadow separates itself from near the restroom door.

Silas.

He doesn't say anything at first. Hands in his pockets. Watching her with those dark eyes that give nothing away.

"Can I... help you?" she says.

"Your heart is beating too fast, Jessie."

She stopped. "How do you know my name?"

"I know a lot of things." He tilts his head, just slightly. "Like why you smell like snow and blood."

She blinked. The hallway stayed the same, but something felt off. Like the floor had shifted an inch to the left.

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me." He steps closer. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone."

She should run. She should shove past him and find Tinsley and get out of this bar and never look back. But her feet aren't moving.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing." The corner of his mouth twitches. Not quite a smile. "Just wanted to see if you knew."

"Knew what?"

"That's the question, isn't it." He steps aside, nodding toward the bathroom door. "You should splash some water on your face. You look like you've seen a ghost."

He moves past her. Quietly. Not fast. Just there, and then not there.

Jessie stays against the wall. Her back pressed to the cold surface. Her pulse in her throat. Snow and blood. He knew her name. He knew her heart was racing before she said a word.

What the hell is happening to me?

From the main bar, Lila's laugh cuts through the music. Martins hasn't looked away from the hallway. He'd been watching the whole time.

And somewhere in the dark of the bar, Silas was still watching.