All Chapters of Claimed on Ice: Marked by the Rival Captain: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Theo MarenThe Glass War Room. The heavy mahogany table in the arena boardroom was buried under legal briefs.Four corporate attorneys sat with their jackets off, coffee cups surrounding their laptops. Sunlight cut through the high windows, reflecting off the steel ice rink visible below through the glass wall.Dominic stood at the head of the table, his hands resting flat on the wood. "Give me something clean. The land deed bought us twenty-four hours, but Sterling is coming back with a federal petition."Vance pulled a thick black binder from his leather briefcase. "We do not need to fight his petition, Dominic. We need to destroy his standing."I sat on Dominic's right, swallowed up in an oversized Titans hoodie. I adjusted my collar, my thumb tracing the empty spot where we had disconnected the micro-transmitter an hour ago."How?" I asked.Vance opened the binder, sliding a set of yellowed bank statements across the table. "When Richard Scott reported you dead six years ago, he d

Dominic POVSteam hissed off the crushed radiator of my SUV.Glass rained down on the wet pavement. I threw the driver's door open, my boots hitting the concrete before the metal stopped groaning.My eyes swept the aisle.Theo was on his hands and knees three feet from the smashed van, gasping for air. A dark scrape lined his neck. His broken hockey stick lay split on the floor beside him.A tall man in a dark coat scrambled backward off the pavement, reaching into his pocket for a silver stun rod.I crossed the gap in two strides.Before he could lift the weapon, I swung the iron bar in my right hand. The heavy steel struck his wrist with a sharp crack.The stun rod flew across the garage, clattering into the darkness.The man screamed, clutching his broken arm against his ribs. I caught him by the lapels of his coat, lifted him off his feet, and slammed him spine-first into the concrete support pillar.He slid down the stone, motionless.***Tires screeched at the top of the ramp. L

Dominic POVRain streaked the glass of my private lounge inside the arena.Down below, three news vans idled near the main gates. Their satellite dishes pointed toward the grey sky, red recording lights flashing through the storm.Julian walked in, holding a tablet. He did not say a word. He just tapped the screen and set it on the coffee table in front of me.A national tabloid site popped up on the display. The banner at the top glowed in bold yellow letters:EXCLUSIVE: THE VALE FAMILY'S HIDDEN OMEGA Disgraced Captain Accused of Extortion and KidnappingI picked up the tablet, my thumb swiping past the headline.A grainy photo filled the middle of the article—Theo walking into the arena garage two nights ago, flanked by Leo's tactical guards. Beside it sat a photo of Richard Scott, his face bruised, his old grey coat wet from the rain."He went straight to Crown Media," Julian said, resting his hand against the back of a leather chair. "He gave them a video interview from his hotel

Theo POVThe studio air conditioning hummed in a steady, low drone overhead. Broadcast monitors lined the far wall, every one of them locked on the same frozen image: my face in tight close-up beside the blue federal compliance certificate. White ticker text raced across the bottom of every screen. MAREN EXPOSES FORGED CONTRACT LIVE ON AIR. The words kept repeating, bright and relentless.Dominic’s arm stayed locked around my waist, his solid frame taking nearly half my weight. The residual adrenaline still shook through my legs. He leaned in, breath warm against my ear. “Look at the board.”I followed his gaze through the glass of the master control room. Four studio executives stood frozen in front of the primary ratings feed. The digital line had spiked into a near-vertical green ridge that kept climbing.Sarah Vance stepped around the desk, earpiece dangling over one shoulder, tablet gripped in both hands. Her eyes were wide. “Two million live on the primary cable network,” she sa

Dominic POVRain hit the high glass windows of Vale Tower's private media suite.Six computer monitors cast a cold blue glow over the long glass table. Julian sat at the head console, his fingers flying across a mechanical keyboard. Beside him, three digital editors worked in silence, their screens showing live broadcast feeds from five national news networks.I stood behind the central terminal, my coat off, my sleeves rolled up past my forearms."The federal court confirmed receipt of the unredacted northern ledgers ten minutes ago," Julian reported, not looking up from his screen. "Prosecutor Eleanor Vance signed the primary indictment.""Load the full packet," I said. My voice was low and flat. "Every police report. Every bank draft from the shell companies. Every recorded statement from the northern sheriff.""The High Council is holding an emergency press conference at nine," Julian said, his thumb hovering over the red execution key. "If we hit the satellite feed now, Crown Med