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2025-10-31 12:53:50
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SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal 107.
Anthony’s POV“I didn’t hesitate,” I said again, slower this time, voice low and shaking with anger I barely kept caged. “She shifted too soon. Her blade wasn’t anchored. I felt it. I reacted. I tried to catch her.”“And yet she fell,” Marlin replied softly, almost gently. He wasn’t accusing me. He didn’t have to. The paperwork on that table was doing it for him.A thick silence settled like smoke.My nails dug into the arm of the chair. “She knows the truth.” I muttered.A bitter laugh bubbled in my chest, but it tasted like grief. “We trained together for years. She knows how I skate. She knows I don’t… I wouldn’t … do something like this.”Cole rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s desperate, man. Or angry. Maybe both. But going after your sight? That’s not a normal claim. That’s personal.”I swallowed, and it hurt. My vision, the one thing I worked every damn day to protect. Eye tests, supplements, rest schedules, specialists, everything to make sure a my condition never came back t
SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal 106.
Anthony’s POVIf silence could bleed, the room would’ve been red, dripping down the walls, pooling around our feet, staining everything it touched.I sat at the head of the conference table, sleeves rolled to my elbows, tie loose because what was the point? Pressure was already tightening around my neck like hands I couldn’t peel off.The blinds were half-drawn. Thin strips of afternoon light sliced across the glass table, landing on polished wood and chrome like this room wanted to pretend today was normal. Like it wanted to lie to us.But nothing about this was normal.Cole sat to my right, one leg bouncing like he was trying to shake the anxiety off him and send it into the floor. His fingers tapped on the side of his water bottle, too fast, too uneven. He only did that when things were really bad.Isaac sat across from him. Phone face-down. Jaw tight. His eyes were sharper than I’d seen in months, not angry, not exactly worried, but focused in a way that meant: If we don’t handle
SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal 105.
Samantha’s POV I knew him. Too well. If there was one thing Logan wasn’t, it was a dog. He didn’t go sniffing around old bones once he dropped them. He didn’t go back to his vomit; his words, once, sharp and careless during one of our late-night arguments about loyalty on and off the ice. The memory hit like a slap, cold and humiliating even now. If I was the thing he threw away so easily, why would he suddenly see value in it again? No. It didn’t make sense. The world would crack in half before Logan admitted he wanted something he decided was beneath him. Unless… unless it wasn’t about wanting me.A worse thought flickered, maybe it was about winning. About possession. About proving he could still have me if he wanted. And somehow, that possibility twisted harder than anything else.“Why would he…?” I started, but she lifted a hand, tiny gesture, sharp like a blade.“He’s obsessed, Samantha,” she muttered, jaw tight. “Obsessed.” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. “And he wo
SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal 104.
Samantha’s POVI knew what I was stepping into when I agreed to pair skating, when I stepped back into Anthony’s world, to his side, onto that ice. I knew who came before me. Who he rose with. Who he fell with. Who half the world still saw when they looked at him.I’d told myself I wasn’t competing against a ghost.Except ghosts didn’t show up at press conferences in designer coats and perfect eyeliner. Ghosts didn’t stare you down like they owned a part of your history, and your future. Ghosts didn’t make your chest tighten in ways you wished were only nerves.Ghosts didn’t feel real enough to breathe the same air and pull shadows behind them.I straightened my shoulders, lifting my chin even though my stomach felt like someone had tightened a screw in the middle of it. “I’m not a replacement. I’m his partner.”My voice didn’t shake. I was stupidly proud of that.Tasha’s laugh wasn’t sharp or cruel. In fact, it surprised me. Soft, tired, almost knowing. “Yeah,” she said, looking down
SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal 103.
Samantha's POVThe second the restroom door swung shut behind me, I let out the breath I’d been strangling in my throat since the press conference ended.The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, too bright, too sharp, too honest. I stepped out of the stall and headed toward the sink, my palms still clammy, my pulse still fluttering in that unsettled place between my ribs.The press conference.Celeste’s little performance.The photos.The questions about Anthony’s vision.Anthony’s jaw locked so tight I thought he might crack a tooth.And me, sitting there, trying to breathe, trying not to look like every camera in the room wasn’t waiting to catch the smallest twitch on my face.I turned on the faucet. Cold water rushed over my hands, and I stared at my reflection in the mirror as if I could scrub the tension off my skin along with the soap.I didn’t belong here. Not really. I wasn’t born into figure skating royalty. I didn’t come from multi-generation training dynasties or federations
SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal 102.
Anthony’s POV Celeste stared at me, something flickering in her eyes, not doubt, not remorse, but the sting of someone who needed a villain and refused to let the story go any other way.“You’re going blind,” she said again, softer now, almost… triumphant. “You’re terrified and hiding it, and you think no one will realize until you’ve squeezed everything you can out of their careers first.”I inhaled sharply, chest tight enough to crack.She wasn’t just attacking me, she was rewriting me. Turning fear into malice, struggle into betrayal.My voice shook despite everything I tried to hold steady. “You don’t know anything about me anymore.”She leaned close, her breath brushing my jaw like ice. “Oh, I know enough. And so will everyone else soon.” She muttered.A chill shot down my spine, crawling like frostbite. If she so much as hinted this to the wrong person, a coach, a sponsor, the federation, they’d dissect my medical history and career until there was nothing left but scraps.I f
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