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Chapter sixty: The Ultimatum
publish date:
2026-09-03 18:05:13
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The Pucking Ice King Chapter sixty-one: What He Didn’t Say
The house had been quiet all afternoon, but something about it felt different. I couldn’t explain it at first. Claire was going through her usual routine. Nothing had changed that I could see, but I was getting this weird feeling. Then I noticed the tablet on the kitchen counter. Claire had left it there while she took a delivery at the door. The screen was still on, open to a shared household calendar I had never been shown. I almost walked past it. Most of the entries were ordinary—practice times, medical follow-ups, the night nurse’s shifts. Then I saw one near the end of the week. McAllister Foundation — Sponsor Dinner Attendance: Logan McAllister and Lena Daniels Note: Joint arrival. Brief photo line. Approved talking points attached. I read it once. Then again. My fingers tightened around the edge of the counter. Joint arrival. With Lena. Approved talking points. The side door closed behind Claire. Her footsteps moved back toward the kitchen. I locked the tablet
The Pucking Ice King Chapter sixty: The Ultimatum
I knew something was wrong when Claire stopped smiling. She stood in the doorway of the living room, one hand still resting on the handle, her usual professional calm strained around the edges. “Mr. McAllister’s parents are here.” The words settled heavily in the room. Logan was in somewhere in the house. I was currently sitting on the sofa with a book open on my lap and my ankle elevated. He appeared a moment later. His expression changed the instant he saw his parents. “Let them in.” Victor and Elena McAllister entered like people who had never needed permission to cross a threshold. Victor was tall, silver at the temples, his gray eyes carrying the same cold intensity as Logan’s. Elena looked perfectly composed in a cream suit, not a strand of her hair out of place. They both looked at me first. Then at Logan. “You’re looking much better,” Elena said. “I am.” “We were so worried about you.” “I’m fine.” Victor’s gaze moved briefly around the room before
The Pucking Ice King Chapter fifty-nine: After
The suite stayed quiet for the rest of the game. Claire didn’t leave again. The guard remained outside. Below us, Logan played like the ice belonged to him. He denied another breakaway, smothered a scramble against the post, and held the one-goal lead until the final horn sent the arena into a rolling roar. I watched him raise his glove once in acknowledgment before skating off. He never looked toward the suite. By the time they walked me through the private corridors, the main concourse was already filling with people. We left through the same entrance we had used earlier. No cameras reached us. The car was waiting. Logan came home almost two hours later. He walked in wearing a dark team hoodie, his hair still damp from the shower at the arena. The sharpness of the game hadn’t completely left him. His shoulders were tense, his expression focused, his movements slower than usual with exhaustion. He set his keys down. His eyes found me immediately. I was curled into the cor
The Pucking Ice King Chapter fifty-eight: Game Day
We were on our way to Logan’s game. The driver kept his eyes on the road while Claire sat in the front passenger seat, occasionally checking the mirror. I sat in the back with my hands folded over the small curve of my stomach, watching the city lights streak past the tinted windows. Logan had left hours earlier for morning skate and media. He hadn’t asked if I wanted to come. He’d simply told Claire what time the car would leave and where I would sit. The family section. Upper level. Private suite. Away from the cameras. Everything decided for me. The arena rose ahead of us, all dark glass and steel. Even through the car windows, I could hear the crowd — a low, restless roar that seemed to grow louder as we got closer. I was led through a private entrance, Claire close behind. A credential hung around my neck. Rhea Davies — Guest of McAllister. I stared at it for a second before looking away. The elevator opened onto a hushed corridor lined with private suites. The
The Pucking Ice King Chapter fifty-seven: Home Alone
Logan left just after noon. He didn’t make a production of it. He checked the terrace doors, murmured something to Claire in the kitchen, then came to stand in the doorway of the living room where I sat with a book I hadn’t read a single page of. “I’ll be back after media,” he said. “Claire has everything you need. She’ll call me if there’s a problem.” I nodded. His eyes stayed on me for another second. As if he were calculating the possibility that I’d do something stupid the moment his car disappeared through the gates. Then he left. The front door closed with a soft click. A few seconds later, I heard the gates open. Then shut. The house settled into silence. For the first time since I’d arrived, Logan wasn’t in the building. I waited. One minute. Two. Nothing happened. I slowly pushed myself out of the chair. My ankle protested immediately. But I ignored it. I walked through the living room, studying the corners. There were three cameras t
The Pucking Ice King Chapter fifty-six: Our Home
They put me in a wheelchair I didn’t ask for, with a plastic bag of my belongings on my lap like I was being discharged from somewhere smaller than a hospital. Logan handled the rest — every form, every signature, every conversation with the nurses. No one questioned him. No one asked for my opinion. When the car pulled up outside, he opened the door himself and waited until I was settled before closing it. The drive was mostly silent. City streets slid past the tinted windows. My ankle ached with every movement, and the bruise along my side pulled whenever the car turned. I kept my hands in my lap and stared outside. We left the denser part of the city behind. Buildings gave way to trees, then long stretches of empty road. When we finally turned through a set of tall iron gates, something tightened in my chest, Logan had said we’re moving to a different place. The house appeared at the end of a long drive. It was beautiful. Pale stone. Clean lines. Floor-to-ceil
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