Semua Bab Owned on the Ice M/M Romance: Bab 101 - Bab 110

The team bus was sleek and expensive. More like a luxury tour coach than anything meant to haul a group of hockey players across states. Everything about it whispered money and prestige. But to Milo Laskey, it might as well have been a prison on wheels.He sat pressed against the window, forehead leaning into the glass, his breath fogging a faint halo against the cold. The familiar churn of nerves sat low in his stomach.It wasn't pre-game jitters. It was a sick, tightening pressure that coiled beneath his ribs. A dread he carried like part of his gear. Not fear of the puck or the crowd, but of the locker room. Of the looks. The comments. The possibility that today might be the day they stopped keeping their cruelty subtle.He adjusted his hoodie, careful to keep it drawn low over his face, and let the others’ voices blur into white noise behind him. Loud, crass, and sharp-edged with the kind of laughter that came at someone’s expense. Lately, that someone was usually him.He wasn’t s

The puck dropped with a sharp crack. The sound swallowed instantly by the roar of the crowd. Bodies surged forward. Blades scraped. Milo pushed off instinctively, joining the flow of motion as the game finally, violently, began.From the first shift, it was clear something was off.The Vultures weren’t playing like it was a charity game. They were hunting. And the target wasn’t just the puck.It was Noah Rivers.The Crestwick rookie was fast, clean, and a little too confident. He skated like he had something to prove. Like he belonged.Which made him a problem.Everyone on the Vultures knew Rivers was supposed to be theirs.He’d been all but signed. Blackmoor had offered him a staggering contract, a starting spot, marketing deals lined up around his name. And then, at the last possible minute, he’d turned it down. Chosen Crestwick. And left the Vultures scrambling.Milo was their scramble. Their consolation prize.The team had never let him forget it.He saw it play out over his first

Milo pulled his hoodie back on, fingers trembling slightly as he tugged the sleeves down. The mirror in the hotel bathroom was too bright, too honest. He stared at his reflection for a long moment.His white-blond hair was already starting to curl with sweat, the strands stark and almost glowing under the fluorescent lights. It made him stand out, like always. Like a target. He pulled the hood up over it and yanked it low.His skin, pale like his mother’s Scandinavian complexion, looked even more washed out than usual. Beneath his eyes, faint shadows had started to form. His lips, already a little too pink, too soft, were bitten raw. He hadn’t even realized he’d done it.He looked like someone who didn’t belong. On the team. In this hotel. In his own body.He yanked the hood lower and turned away, refusing to meet his own eyes again.The hallway was silent as he left his room. He kept his head down, shoulders hunched as he stepped into the elevator. His pulse tapped anxiously in his t

Milo stayed frozen against the alley wall, the rough brick biting into his shoulders, his lungs drawing in shallow, uneven breaths.Logan’s retreating footsteps echoed off the stone as he fled. He looked like a wounded dog escaping the jaws of something bigger, and hungrier.But Milo was still there.Still trapped in the silence.Still in the sights of the thing that had scared Logan off.Ethan Doyle hadn’t moved, but it felt like he took up the entire alley. The air thickened with him in it, his shadow stretching longer than it should’ve. Milo dared a glance upward.Those eyes met his.Dark and rimmed in tension, with something deeper burning beneath. Anger, heat, something harder to name.“So the Vultures are eating each other now?” Ethan sneered, his voice low and dangerous. “Stupid, savage birds. Tearing each other apart like cannibals.”His mouth curled in contempt, and Milo’s stomach clenched hard.He thought about backing away, just sliding down the alley like a ghost. But he d

He strode toward Milo, and as he did, the rookie stiffened like he expected to be struck.That sight alone made something twist and burn deep in Ethan’s gut. Fuckin' Vultures. He’d seen them messing with the kid in the parking lot like it was routine but clearly that wasn’t all they did.He stopped a few feet short, jaw tight, crossing his arms over his chest. Deliberately dialed down his usual posture—the squared shoulders, the full-body intensity he used to intimidate half the league. He let his voice fall softer.“Relax. I’m not gonna hit you,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “And no one’s sucking any dicks tonight. Just… putting that out there.”Milo blinked up at him, still wary. Still not convinced.Ethan huffed a breath, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Look, I’m not great at the whole comfort thing. But I’ve got an idea. Something to help you blend in with your team. Might get those assholes off your back.”Milo’s bright blue eyes lifted to his.Hesitant. Curious. Des