บททั้งหมดของ The Billionaire Alpha's Sin Bin: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

  (Damian’s POV)The small, locked rink was a vacuum of cold, unforgiving air. Eleven thirty at night, and the only sounds were the scrape of steel and the ragged, desperate panting of Logan Cross.I stood behind the boards, my coat now discarded on the rubber matting. My sleeves were rolled up, exposing the tense line of my forearms, and my face was set in a mask of professional, icy detachment. If Logan had sought to break my control through defiance, I would meet him with brutal, calculated exhaustion.“Again, Cross! Full speed! Push through the burn!”He had been on the ice for nearly ninety minutes. I’d run him through complex suicide drills, forcing him to weave through pylons, take impossible angles, and execute snap

(Damian’s POV)The victory felt sterile. We had won, three to one, on a late-game surge powered entirely by Logan Cross. He was a force of nature, brutal, unpredictable, and perfect. The win secured our spot at the top of the conference standings, protecting the Titan deal for another forty-eight hours.Every goal he scores, every point he earns, is a chain tightening around my neck. He performs, and I lose control.I stood on the dimly lit concrete of the visitor’s loading dock, the roar of the crowd long gone, replaced by the mechanical hum of the arena’s ventilation. The team bus was idling, ready to pull away, but Logan was missing.I didn’t need to look for him. The wolf felt him, a persistent, hot, magnetic pull that was always strongest when he was defiant and exposed. He was leaning against a support pillar fifty feet away, scrolling through his phone, ignoring the cold January air. He was waiting for Julian Drake.A futile exercise in defiance. Julian Drake is a rival owner,

(Damian’s POV)My hand was still burning where I had gripped his elbow. I didn't walk Logan out of that ballroom; I towed him, a public spectacle of ownership that silenced the chattering crowd more effectively than any market crash could. The velvet of my coat felt suffocating, masking a volatile internal storm that threatened to erupt.The arrogance. The sheer, calculated insolence of wearing Julian Drake's gift, of dancing in his arms, of making me look like a fool in front of my rivals.I dragged him into a narrow, unused service hallway near the private elevator bay. The air was thick with the scent of old carpet and my own barely-contained fury. I released his elbow only to slam him back against the solid wall, the harsh thud reverberati

First Dinner (The Alpha’s Den)(Damian’s POV)The silence after Logan's admission, "I’m tired of fighting what you feel", was the most dangerous sound I had ever heard. It wasn't surrender; it was a shift in battle strategy. He wasn't fighting me anymore; he was fighting the logic of my defenses.I enforced a new kind of proximity immediately. After an antiseptic five-minute shower in the training facility, I drove Logan back to my penthouse. This time, there was no pretext of injury or liability. This was about containing the truth he had just exposed.The massive, silent space of the apartment had always felt like a necessary shield. It was a

(Damian’s POV)The morning had devolved into a necessary, grinding exercise in damage control. Logan’s calculated leak to Markus Thorne, the story accusing me of letting "personal spite sabotage the season", was metastasizing rapidly across the financial newsfeeds. Titan Energy’s stock had dipped a fractional but irritating amount, enough to warrant three unscheduled calls with the Board.Insubordination. Recklessness. Emotional instability. The accusations were poison, meticulously targeted to dismantle the one thing I valued more than wealth: my reputation for absolute control. The irony was suffocating; the accusation was entirely true, yet I was determined to manage the fallout with cold, fabricated precision.I was riding the private elevator down from the penthouse,