Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 41 - Chapitre 50

Kai’s POVWhen Maya called, I didn’t hesitate.I was out of the building within minutes, crossing the grounds at a near-jog until the Falcons Academy gate came into view and there she was, standing on the other side of it. I nodded to the gatekeeper and he pulled it open without question.She had changed. That was the first thing I registered. She was taller, older, more composed in the way she held herself and yet, underneath all of it, she was still unmistakably her. Still Maya.She didn’t give me a moment to say a word. She launched herself at me, arms thrown around my neck. “Kai , I missed you so much.”I caught her, held her tightly, and didn’t let go for a long moment.I had missed her too. More than I’d let myself admit.We sat together after the tears had passed, side by side on a bench just inside the gate, the silence between us easy in the way only siblings can manage.“How are you?” she asked, studying my face.“I’m okay,” I said. And then, because I needed to know: “Ho

The traffic back to the academy was punishing. By the time I finally made it through the gates and down the corridor toward the dorms, I was late, irritable, and still nursing the dull throb across the bridge of my nose.Ken was standing outside his own door when I turned the corner.“Noah!” He straightened up. “Where were you yesterday? I wanted us to practice together but you’d completely vanished.” His eyes dropped to my face. “And why do you have a plaster? Are you okay?”“I was home,” I said. “I’m fine. Really.”He nodded slowly. “I figured you and Kai must have both gone your room was empty.” He tilted his head, glancing past me. “Did you two leave together? Come back together?”I turned to look.Kai was right behind me.I hadn’t heard him at all. I registered his presence for exactly one second before he shouldered past me deliberately, squarely and I stumbled sideways into the wall, catching myself on the door frame.“What is his problem?” Ken asked, staring after him.I sh

I stared at his arm and felt the conflict play out in about two seconds flat.He had gone out, jumped a wall, by the look of it and came back with pharmacy meds and an injury he was now quietly suffering through. Did he do it for me? For himself? To cover his own tracks? Probably all three, knowing Kai. But I couldn’t stand here and watch someone be in pain. Even him. Even if every reasonable part of me wanted to.I stepped forward. He didn’t pull away, which I took as permission.I touched his arm carefully, turning it in my hands to read the damage. My father had always reserved his attention for Noah his son, his hockey player, his pride which meant I had learned most things the way you learn things when no one is watching: by necessity, by trial and error, entirely alone. The year I broke my own arm and didn’t tell anyone. Didn’t go to the hospital. Just figured it out, bandaged it myself, and got on with it.This was worse than that had been.I went to my bag without a word and

The man turned to look at me.The confusion on his face lasted only a moment before it hardened into something else irritation, and beneath that, the particular contempt of someone who is not accustomed to being interrupted.Kai hadn’t moved. He was on his feet but barely, one hand braced against the wall, blood at the corner of his mouth. His eyes were wide in a way I had never seen on him before. Not angry. Not composed. Just shocked.“Who do you think you are?” the man said to me. His voice was low and even, which was somehow worse than if he’d shouted.“This is my son,” he continued. “I have every right to discipline him as I see fit.”“That isn’t discipline,” I said. My own voice came out steadier than I felt. “That’s assault. And I won’t stand here and watch it happen.”He stared at me for a long moment. Then, slowly, he laughed a short, humourless sound and turned to look at Kai with something like amusement.“Who is this?” he asked. Almost conversational. “This bold young

“Are you a child?” I looked at him standing there in the doorway, blood creeping down his arm, wet plaster peeling away from the skin. “I left you alone for ten minutes. Ten minutes. And now look at you.” I shook my head. “If this gets any worse you won’t be playing in the match at all.”He said nothing. He just looked at me — and there was something in his eyes that wasn’t stubbornness for once. Something quieter. He was in real pain.I exhaled and went to my bag.I found a clean handkerchief, folded it properly, and knelt down in front of him. I tied it firmly around the wound, applying pressure until the bleeding slowed and then stopped altogether. He didn’t speak. No insult, no cold remark, no grudging acknowledgement. Nothing.By the time I looked up, his eyes were closed.Not dramatically not a collapse. Just a slow, silent surrender to whatever his body had been fighting against all day. He was asleep before I’d fully processed it, sitting there with his back against the wall