CHAPTER 68The arena was cold.It was the kind of bone-deep, quiet chill that hit as soon as the heavy metal doors banged shut behind them, cutting off the noise of the city outside. The high, vaulted ceiling stretched into shadows overhead, and down below, the vast oval of fresh ice glowed under the dim house lights. It hummed softly—a low, rhythmic vibration from the cooling pipes buried beneath the surface.Liam sat in the second row of the bleachers, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together in front of him. His hoodie was pulled up over his head against the draft, the dark fabric casting a shadow over his eyes.Beside him, Raphael sat rigid. He was staring down at the pristine sheet of ice, his ankles crossed, his hands buried deep in his jacket pockets.For five minutes, neither of them said a word.Without Aria’s constant commentary, the space between them felt huge. It wasn't hostile—the sharp, jagged edge of their old rivalry was gone—but it was heavy. Heavy
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