Chapter 5: The Master Token

Gianna’s POV

The pitch-black room felt smaller now, crowded by the sound of our breathing. I sat on the cold floor, my knees pulled tightly against my chest, while Ryker stood over me like a shadow. The blue glow from his phone screen cut across his sharp cheekbones.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "What code?"

Ryker didn't answer right away. He tapped the screen of his phone, scrolled through a page, and then turned the display toward my face. "Read that."

I blinked against the sudden light, squinting at the bold text of a major sports gossip site.

*“BARRETT’S LAST STRIKE? NHL scouts question the maturity of Blackwood’s star captain after a viral locker-room brawl leaves a teammate hospitalized. Sources say the athletic board is preparing an ultimatum: clean up his act, or lose the captaincy and the draft.”*

Underneath the text was a blurry screenshot of Ryker pulling his fist back in a concrete hallway, his eyes wild with anger.

I looked up from the screen, my eyes meeting his cold gray stare. "You're cruel."

"I'm a player who doesn't take garbage from anyone," Ryker corrected, his tone dropping into a hard, defensive growl. "But the board doesn't care about the details. They want a safe narrative. They want a good girl on my arm to prove I’m housebroken before the scouts make their final calls next month."

He kneeled down in front of me, his massive frame blocking out the rest of the dark room. He smelled like iron and the sharp winter cold from the open vents. He slid my phone across the floor, the glass clinking against my bare ankle. The text message from my ex-coach was still open on the screen, a tiny beacon of my ruined past.

"You need protection from whoever sent that text," Ryker said, his voice dropping into a low, false cadence. "And I need a clean image to get the board off my back. We give them exactly what they want."

"No," I said instantly, scrambling backward until my spine hit the base of the kitchen cabinets. "Absolutely not. I came here to disappear. If I get photographed with you, my face will be on every sports blog in the country by morning."

"Your face is already going to be on those blogs," Ryker countered, pointing a heavy finger toward the covered window. "That photographer outside didn't just take a picture of me. He took a picture of us. By five AM, the headline is going to be about the mystery girl in my kitchen. You can either be the random girl triggering another Barrett scandal, or you can be the steady girlfriend who’s keeping me on the straight and narrow."

The logic hit me like a physical blow. The room felt like it was tilting beneath me. If the press started digging into the mystery girl, they would track my transfer records. They would find the fake ID. They would find Gianna Rossi.

"I don't even know you," I choked out, my hands clenching into tight fists against my leggings. "You're arrogant, you're violent, and you're everything I've been trying to run away from."

"I don't need you to like me, Cole," Ryker whispered, leaning closer until his breath stirred the dark hairs around my forehead. "I need you to play a part. One year. We show up to the games together, we let the cameras see us, and we keep the board happy. In return, I put my family’s legal team around this suite. Whoever is tracking you won't be able to get within a mile of your real identity."

He stood up, reaching down into his pocket and pulling out a small, heavy silver keycard. He didn't drop it. He held it out between his fingers, waiting for me to take it.

"My father's capable lawyers can make a person completely vanish from the world if the price is right," Ryker murmured, his gray eyes locking onto mine with an unyielding intensity. "I can wipe your slate completely clean, Gianna. But you have to sign on the line."

I stared at the silver card, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I was trapped between two monsters—the coach who had stolen my past, and the hockey captain who was trying to buy my future.

I reached out, my fingers trembling as they brushed against his warm palm to take the card.

"Good," Ryker said, the dark smirk returning to his face as he stepped back toward the hallway. "Get some sleep, roommate. Tomorrow morning, we will write down the terms."