เข้าสู่ระบบThey made it as far as the street.Jax’s weight dragged heavier with every step, his arm a dead weight over Ryder’s shoulders, breath sharp against Ryder’s neck. Ryder adjusted his grip without comment, jaw tight, eyes scanning for anyone who might be watching.Headlights swung into view.The Mustang rolled up too fast, tires crunching over gravel before braking hard at the curb. The driver’s door flew open before the engine was even fully off.“I can’t drive this thing,” Nora blurted, already moving toward them, hands up like she’d just escaped a crime scene. “I swear I almost put it into a wall.”Jax made a low, disbelieving sound, head tipping back against Ryder's shoulder. “You—” He broke off with a sharp breath, jaw tightening. “Jesus, Nora.”She winced. “It’s too powerful. And loud. And—” She gestured helplessly. “Just—no.”Ryder didn’t have time for this.“Fine,” he snapped, already shifting his stance. “Fuck’s sake, I’ll drive.”He maneuvered Jax toward the back seat, easing h
The bastard didn’t stop.He straightened over Jax like he was lining up a shot, boot drawing back, eyes hard and mean. No hesitation. No second thought. Just the intent to do damage.Something in Ryder went white-hot.He didn’t slow. Didn’t shout. He launched himself forward, shoulder-first, slamming into the guy’s side and knocking him clean off balance before the kick could land.Ryder’s voice tore out of him, rough and feral. “Get the fuck away from him.”The football player staggered, caught himself, then turned with a snarl. “Who the hell—”Ryder didn’t hesitate. He threw a punch, hard and clean, straight into the guy’s jaw.He’d been playing hockey since he was six years old. Been chirping since day one. He knew how to throw his weight, how to keep his feet, how to use momentum instead of brute force. This wasn’t a blind swing—it was clean, controlled, exactly where it needed to land.The guy reeled back, shock flashing across his face as Ryder crowded his space, hands already f
Ryder finished his checks ten minutes later.A couple of reflex tests, a cursory stretch, a nod from the trainer that said you’re good, and that was it. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on, already knowing he wasn’t going anywhere yet. Connor and Drew had only just started their checks, and Ryder wasn’t about to hike back to the Wolf Den on his own.He glanced toward the remaining stations.Connor was still stuck on balance work, arms out, jaw clenched in concentration. Drew was arguing with a trainer about something Ryder couldn’t hear but could absolutely guess.Great.Ryder lingered.He refilled his water bottle. Retied his laces even though they didn’t need it. Scrolled aimlessly through his phone without actually seeing anything on the screen. Every few seconds, his attention drifted back to the corridor Jax had disappeared down.Gone in a hurry. No goodbye. No trash talk.He told himself he didn’t care. That Calloway could sprint off to wherever the hell he wanted. It wasn’t R
The training room smelled like disinfectant and sweat.Stations were set up in a loose circuit. Balance boards, flexibility mats, heart-rate monitors. Guys rotated through in half-dressed clusters, joking too loudly.Pre-season checks. Routine. Boring.Ryder leaned against the wall near the doorway, tugging at the hem of his compression shorts while he waited for his turn. The clipboard in the trainer’s hands barely moved. Everything ran on muscle memory this time of year.Jax stood a few feet away.Too close not to notice.He had his hands braced on his hips, his head tipped back as he rolled his neck slowly from side to side—throat exposed, jaw tight, the line of muscle pulling clean beneath his skin.Something tightened in Ryder’s gut, a flicker of heat he hadn’t asked for and didn’t want. He stamped it down just as quickly.“Jesus... His stats are impressive,” one of the assistant trainers muttered nearby. “Guy doesn’t know when to quit.”Ryder didn’t look over, but his attention
Ryder didn’t get back in the car.He did exactly as Jax expected. He shoved Zach toward the Mustang with a grin that was too bright, and too pleased with itself.“You can drop the freshman back. Enjoy,” Ryder said, smug.Zach didn’t complain. He climbed into the passenger seat practically vibrating, eyes roaming the dash like he was being given a tour. “Holy—this thing purrs,” he said, giddy.Jax drove them back in near silence, nodded when Zach babbled, dropped him at his dorm with a polite, detached wave.Then he was alone.Sigma Delta sat quiet under the trees, warm light glowing in a few windows, calm in a way that didn’t match his head. Jax pulled to the curb, killed the engine, and let his forehead rest against the steering wheel.What the hell was he doing?The project was finished. Clean. Solid. They’d both pass without a hitch. He’d told himself that once it was over, he’d keep his distance from Hayes, no more late nights, no more friction disguised as work.Avoid the center.
The guys filled the space with noise and laughter.“Football thinks they own the place,” Drew said, tearing into another wing. “Imagine subbing out every thirty seconds and still flexing about it.”Connor snorted. “They think conditioning is walking from the bus to the field.”Zach leaned back, draping an arm along the top of the booth. “I heard their playbooks are written in crayon.”Leo laughed under his breath, shoulders loosening as the chirping rolled on.Across the bar, Assball slid into a chair with his girl tucked in close beside him. He draped an arm over the back of her seat like it was a claim, not a gesture. She angled herself away just enough to make it noticeable if you were paying attention.Ryder tried not to.Jax didn’t stare. He barely moved at all, just a quiet shift of focus, eyes tracking without effort. If Ryder hadn’t been watching him already, he might’ve missed it.Assball scrolled through his phone and laughed too loud. The girl beside him said something Ryde
Ethan stretched, still flushed and loose-limbed from the way Milo had woken him. His hair stuck up in half a dozen directions, his grin sleepy and satisfied as he finally reached for the tray on the nightstand.“You made this?” Ethan asked, voice still rough.Milo sat cross-legged beside him, tryin
Milo didn’t look back.Ethan’s voice still rang in his head. Take Caleb to the car. Quickly.So he did. Milo’s hand closed firmly around Caleb’s wrist, tugging him into a fast stride. Caleb resisted, trying to glance over his shoulder toward the rink, his steps dragging as if he could catch a glimp
The voice hit him like a slap.“Milo?”He hadn’t heard that voice in more than a decade. Flat, clipped, with no warmth to soften it.The man standing by the rink boards was tall and broad through the shoulders, his hair going silver at the temples. But there was no mistaking the former Vultures goa
“Milo?” Ethan called again, patient but firm.Milo bit his lip. “Just a second!” he managed, voice higher than he meant.There was a pause, then the sound of Ethan’s knuckles rapping lightly against the door. “Everything okay in there?”Milo shook his head, even though Ethan couldn’t see. “No, I—I







