Semua Bab Puck, Passion, and Broken Promises: Bab 1 - Bab 7

Three years. Two months. Fourteen days.That's how long I've been gone.The Seattle Blizzards' press room smells exactly the same. Ice. Sweat. Expensive cologne trying to cover both. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead like angry bees. Reporters crowd the wooden benches, laptops open, fingers ready.My press badge says "Ava Thompson – Freelance."It should say "The Woman Who Destroyed Ethan Hayes."I grip my recorder so hard my knuckles turn white."You okay?" The reporter next to me, a kid named Jamie, frowns. "You look like you've seen a ghost.""Something like that.""You know Hayes personally? I heard—""I don't."The lie tastes bitter.Because I do know him. I know the scar on his ribs from a skate blade. I know the way he takes his coffee. Black. No sugar. The way he hums in his sleep. The way his voice drops an octave when he's about to say something he doesn't want to say.I knew all of him.And then I destroyed him.The locker room door swings open.Players spill out. Big me

His mouth is on my neck.Teeth. Tongue. Three years of hunger."I've dreamed about this," he says against my skin."How many times?""Every night.""Liar.""Count the nightmares, Thompson. That's how many."His hands slide under my dress. Find bare skin. No underwear. Just like Mason said."You planned this.""I planned the truth.""The dress. The timing. Coming alone." His fingers trace my hip. "You knew what would happen.""I hoped.""Hoped what?""That you still wanted me."His laugh is dark. Broken. "Wanting you was never the problem. Trusting you was.""Do you trust me now?""No.""Then why are you touching me?"He stops.Pulls back.Looks at me with eyes that have seen too much."Because I can't stop.""Then don't.""Ava—""I'm not asking you to marry me, Ethan. I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'm asking you to feel something. Anything. Because I've been numb for three years and you're the only thing that's ever made me feel alive."He stares at me.The war inside him plays ou

The black SUV has been behind us for forty-seven miles.Same plates. Tinted windows. Always three car lengths back."You're sure it's Vanessa?" I ask.Mason's knuckles are white on the steering wheel. "I recognize the driver. He works for her father.""Her real father? The truck driver?""Her real father is a former military contractor. He runs security for Darius." Mason glances in the rearview. "Vanessa isn't some random girl from Spokane. She's been trained.""Trained for what?""To protect the family. To eliminate threats." His voice drops. "To do whatever needs to be done."Ethan reaches into the glove compartment.Metal gleams.A gun."You have a firearm in your car?""I have a lot of things in my car." He checks the chamber. "I'm a public figure, Ava. People threaten me daily.""And you just carry a gun?""Only when I'm driving to Idaho to find my secret son." He almost smiles. "So. Today's special.""This isn't funny.""I'm not laughing."The SUV speeds up.Mason speeds up too

The FBI building looks like a prison with better lighting.Vanessa walks ahead of me. Heels clicking on marble. Hair perfect. Suit expensive. She looks like she owns the place instead of being a witness in a federal investigation."Stop staring," she says without turning around."Stop looking like you're about to betray us.""If I was going to betray you, I would have done it in the mountains. Alone. With a shovel.""Charming.""I'm not here to be charming. I'm here to put my father in prison."We stop at a metal detector. A guard checks my bag. My phone. My recorder."No electronics beyond this point.""I'm a journalist.""You're a visitor. Leave it here."I hand over my phone. My recorder. My dignity.Vanessa smirks. "First time?""Shut up."---The conference room is small. Gray walls. Gray table. Gray faces.Two agents sit across from us. Agent Morrison — fifty, grey hair, grey suit, grey eyes. Agent Park — thirty, sharp, watching everything."Miss Thompson." Morrison doesn't stan