All Chapters of Ice King Obsession : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Sheila Feint hated Atticus Finch, that first time she saw him. It wasn’t the way he looked although he was tall enough to make people feel small, and built like someone who had never met a limit. And it wasn't even that he carried himself like he owned the ice, the arena and every person in it. It was his presence demanding attention without asking for it. Sheila hated that. She had come to the rink for one reason only: an internship assignment to watch players perform and track injury patterns in their performance for a sports science study. Nothing dramatic. No fanfare. No headlines. And definitely no famous hockey star. But her supervisor had already warned her before she even walked into the building. “Don’t let him intimidate you,” the supervisor had said in half-amused, half-serious tones. “Atticus Finch has a reputation.” Sheila’s only response was a nod, because she never believed in reputations. She had faith in facts and figures and evidence. She passed through the hallway

Sheila Feint didn’t like to lose. It wasn’t in her nature. She didn’t care to be pushed out of her own path, and she didn’t like feeling small in any space she went into. But after her second day in the arena, she had to admit something she hated admitting:She had been made to feel defeated by Atticus Finch. Not an explanation she could put into context. Not because he had physically abused her or because he had won an argument. But because he had broken her confidence, made her question her own place and even whether she was supposed to be inside the building with him. Sheila attempted to deny it as she entered the rink that morning. She attempted to convince herself it was simply a job, and that she just didn’t deserve to be affected by a player who didn’t know her name at all. But as soon as she stepped over into the training room, she felt it again his presence like a storm cloud passing nearby. Sheila’s gaze scanned the room, for the disconcerted, angry faces of the players. The

The next morning Sheila had the same heaviness in her chest as she’d carried since her morning with Atticus Finch. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t sadness. It was something else she didn't have to say. The feeling was like she was being pulled into a storm she couldn’t control. She shook off that idea and prepared for the day. She told herself she was strong. She just told herself she was in control. She said she wasn’t going to let a hockey player lead her life. But as she entered the arena, she was wrong. He didn’t dictate her rules. It was the world around him. The world that fed on his reputation, his fame, his power. The world that was watching her now. Sheila entered the training room, and the air felt different. It wasn’t the same as before. It wasn’t just the players watching her or the way Atticus made her feel. It was something else. A tension in the room. A murmurs of something brewing. Sheila looked around the room, and saw something that made her heart sink. A camera. It wasn’t

The email did not have a sender. It did not have a signature. It did not even have a name in the “from” line. It had only those three words in the subject: We should talk. Sheila Feint held her eyes on the message until it faded out of frame. Her chest tightened as if the words had weight, as if they were burdening her ribs. She had read the message ...... one, two, three times, and each time it had a sensation of being drawn deeper into something she didn’t want to know. Her first instinct was to delete it. Her second was to dial Dr. Harlow. Her third move was back in the arena to confront Carter again. Yet none of these options felt safe. Not anymore. Why she said so: Because, now, she had a realization she hadn’t known. This wasn’t about her job. This was about her. Sheila swallowed, dry and sick to her throat. She didn’t love how quickly her brain flashed to possibilities. Someone wanted her. Someone wanted to dominate her. Someone wanted to use her. And she didn’t know who. Her f

Sheila looked at Atticus for just an instant too long. It felt like the walls were closing around her, the room smaller. There was tension in the air, the kind that prickle your skin and took too much air. Atticus had his arms at his sides, stiff like a man who didn’t want to be weak. Coach Rivera’s eyes shifted within between them as if he were witnessing a match. The silence stretched. Then Atticus spoke. “Why are you here?” he said again, but his voice had no resemblance. It had turned sharper, colder a blade. Sheila swallowed hard. She didn’t want to answer. Not because she didn’t have anything to say, but because she knew what she said would be used against her. Still, she held her ground. "I'm here because I was assigned," she explained. "And because I'm doing my job." Atticus just gave a slight lip curl, a smile, but not a full-throated one. “Your job,” he said again, as if he was sniffing the words. Sheila felt anger flare. “I’m not your enemy,” she said. “I’m not your target