Lahat ng Kabanata ng Frozen Submission (M*M)Romance: Kabanata 41 - Kabanata 50

Chapter 43: The Captain BreaksThe silence after my father’s video call was deafening.Callan’s heavy breathing filled the room, his chest rising and falling against my back. The dent in the wall where he’d slammed his fist still stared back at us like an accusation. His knuckles were already bruising, but he didn’t seem to notice. The link between us was a live wire his rage, my anxiety, and something much deeper twisting together until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.I turned in his arms, searching his face. The man looking back at me wasn’t the cold, disciplined captain who had once blackmailed me in a hotel room. This was Callan stripped raw eyes stormy, jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumped, shoulders rigid with barely contained violence.“Callan,” I said softly, reaching up to touch his cheek.He caught my wrist, grip bordering on painful. “Don’t.”But he didn’t let go. Instead, he backed me

Chapter 45: Watched EverywhereThe discovery of the hidden cameras changed everything.Beck’s warning still echoed in my head as Callan and I stood in the middle of the suite, tension crackling between us like static before a storm. The small black lens Beck had pried from the hallway fixture sat on the coffee table like a poisonous spider. It was sleek, professional-grade, the kind of tech that didn’t come cheap. The syndicate wasn’t playing anymore.Callan paced slowly, shoulders tight, jaw locked in that familiar captain expression. But through the link I felt the truth underneath: a cold, simmering fury mixed with genuine fear. Not fear for himself but fear for me. For us. For how exposed we’d become.“Watched everywhere,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “Hotel hallways, maybe even inside the rooms by now. They’re not satisfied with the app footage anymore. They want real-time access.”I rubbed the back of my neck, anxiety spiking s

Chapter 47: Stolen MomentThe Detroit hotel suite felt smaller with every passing hour.We had performed for hours raw, filthy, convincing enough that the syndicate’s cameras must have captured exactly what they wanted: the veteran captain dominating his rookie goalie, bodies slick with sweat, voices breaking on commands and moans. But the longer we stayed under the unblinking red lights, the more the link screamed with the truth. This wasn’t us anymore. The staged power exchange felt like a violation of something that had become sacred.Callan was still buried deep inside me, his chest pressed to my back, when Tate’s distraction exploded in the hallway.Loud banging. Raised voices. Tate yelling something about a missing goalie stick and equipment sabotage, dragging hotel security and a couple of confused teammates into the corridor. The feed glitched. The small status light on the nearest camera flickered once, twice, then went dark.Thr

Chapter 49: Maren’s InsightThe plane ride to the next city was quiet, the cabin lights dimmed for the overnight flight. Most of the team was asleep or zoned out with headphones, but I couldn’t shut my brain off. The link hummed steadily with Callan’s presence a few rows ahead exhausted but calmer after the panic attack I’d helped pull him through on the bus. Still, the weight of everything pressed on my chest like a goalie pad.We’d survived the monitored suite in Detroit. We’d sold a believable lie about the signal drop. We’d even managed a few stolen minutes of real planning thanks to Tate’s courage. But every small victory felt like it was balanced on a knife’s edge.When we landed and checked into the new hotel, I slipped away to the physio room for a scheduled shoulder tune-up. Maren Emerson was already there, setting up her table with quiet efficiency. The team physiotherapist had always carried herself with calm strength compassionate without being

Chapter 51: The TapeThe red light on the camera stared at us like a predator’s eye.We had set it up in the corner of the hotel suite ourselves this time no hiding, no pretending it wasn’t there. The syndicate’s new contract addendum left no room for negotiation: one intentional sex tape, uncut, unedited, full emotional range. They wanted to see Callan cracking. They wanted to see me breaking. They wanted proof that the link had turned blackmail into something dangerously real.Callan stood by the window, shirtless, arms crossed over his broad chest. The city lights of whatever city we were in tonight painted hard shadows across his scarred body. His jaw was tight, eyes dark with barely restrained fury.“You ready?” he asked, voice low and rough.I wasn’t. Not really.But I nodded anyway.We both knew the stakes. Deliver something convincing or the next dose would make everything hurt. The link was already humming with