All Chapters of Ice King Obsession : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The storm broke quietly. No alarms. No press swarm. No screaming headlines splashed across Sheila Feint’s phone when she woke up the next morning. Just a single notification that sat there like a loaded weapon. Unknown Sender: We should talk. Today. Sheila stared at it for a long moment, heart thudding against her ribs. She hadn’t replied last night. She’d needed sleep. Space. Time to convince herself that ignoring problems made them less real. It hadn’t worked. She rolled out of bed, muscles tense, mind already racing through worst-case scenarios. Carter. Media. Leaks. Or something worse something that involved Atticus Finch more deeply than she’d already been dragged. By the time she reached the arena, she’d made a decision. She wasn’t running. The parking lot buzzed with early-morning activity. Equipment trucks. Trainers hauling bags. Players moving in clusters, laughing too loudly. Everything looked normal. That was the problem. Sheila had learned by now that normal was c

Atticus Finch had kissed a lot of people.Fans. Strangers. People whose names he forgot before the night was over. Kissing had never meant anything to him just another transaction, another way to keep control, to keep distance disguised as intimacy.So the fact that he wanted to kiss Sheila Feint badly, relentlessly, stupidly felt like a flaw in his system.And flaws were unacceptable.He noticed it first during drills.She stood at the edge of the rink, coat pulled tight against the cold, tablet in hand. Focused. Always focused. She barely looked at him, except when she needed to. No starstruck awe. No fear. No fake smiles. Just observation sharp enough to slice through bone.Atticus missed a shot.The puck slammed into the boards instead of the net. A rare mistake. The rink went quiet for half a second before the drills resumed.Sheila didn’t react. She just wrote something down.That annoyed him more than if she’d stared.“Again,” he barked.His body moved on instinct, muscles burn

The next morning, Sheila Feint woke with tension already sitting in her chest like a stone.She had barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the image from her phoneher and Atticus standing too close, the angle intimate enough to suggest something that did not exist. Yet.She stared at the ceiling of her apartment, replaying the anonymous message in her mind."You should be careful who you stand close to. Some kings don’t fall alone"It wasn’t just a threat.It was a warning wrapped in mockery.And Sheila hated how effective it was.By the time she reached the arena, the atmosphere felt… wrong.Not openly hostile. Not dramatic. Just heavy. Like the building itself was holding its breath.She swiped her access card and stepped inside, immediately catching the shift in body language around her. A few players nodded politely. Others avoided eye contact altogether. The equipment manager, usually chatty, offered only a stiff greeting before returning to his work.Whispers foll

Sheila woke up to the soft hum of her apartment, the city outside slowly stirring to life. The morning light streamed through the blinds, cutting the room into sharp lines. She lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, feeling the echo of last night’s messages with Atticus settle into her chest like a stone.She had told herself a thousand times that she didn’t need him. That he was dangerous. That she could handle this alone. And yet, here she was, heart still beating a little too fast at the memory of his words, the weight of his gaze, the subtle insistence that she wasn’t alone in what she was facing.She got up, poured herself a cup of coffee, and tried to focus on work. Observing patterns, noting discrepancies, keeping track of training schedules she had built a world of logic and precision around herself to survive in the arena. But logic could only carry her so far, and thoughts of him chipped away at her composure like slow erosion.At the arena, the tension was palpable

Sheila didn’t sleep.She tried. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling while the glow of her phone screen replayed in her mind over and over again.You’re getting too close to him. That’s dangerous for both of you.Walk away while you still can.The words crawled under her skin like a warning she couldn’t shake. She had received anonymous messages before during her academic life competition, jealousy, petty nonsense. But this felt different. The tone wasn’t immature or dramatic.It was controlled.Calculated.Personal.By the time her alarm rang, she had already been awake for nearly two hours. Her body felt heavy, but her mind was sharp with restless tension.She sat up slowly, gripping the edge of her bed.“I’m not running,” she whispered to herself.The arena felt louder than usual when she arrived. Or maybe she just noticed everything more sharply now. Every glance. Every whisper. Every pause in conversation when she walked past.She kept her posture straight and professional, clu