Three weeks ago he could not score. Tonight the entire rink screamed his name, and the woman standing behind that success was Mikka Rowan.I clenched my glass until my nails ached. She had arrived as nothing, a broke Australian student with an immigration problem and nowhere to sleep. Now she stood beside Seven like she belonged there, and worse, he looked at her like she belonged to him."You are staring again," my father said behind me.Council Head Di Matteo stepped beside me, his expression colder than the ice below. I told him I was watching the game. He said I was watching Seven."Do you know what the council is saying?" he asked."That he is winning.""That he is becoming difficult to control."My eyes narrowed. "He was never yours to control.""Careful," he warned.I hated that word. Everyone in my family used it when they wanted me to obey.I turned back to the rink. Seven was laughing with his teammates until Mikka walked over. His entire face changed into that soft smile he
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