All Chapters of The Ice Between Us : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

CIEL'S POV I whispered my own name, watching the white smoke of my breath mix with the arena's frozen air. The numbers above me blazed red and final. 98.7. First place. Regionals. Perfect score.The crowd roared. My blades had carved history into the ice tonight, and for three glorious seconds, I let myself smile. Not the polite, practiced curve my mother taught me. A real one. Wide. Warm. Directed right at the judge's table, specifically at Judge Harrison, who'd given me the only 10.0 of the night.That smile cost me everything."Get. In. Here."My mother's voice cut through the cheering like a blade through flesh. I turned. Mara Laurent stood in the tunnel leading to the locker rooms, her face a perfect mask of porcelain calm. But I knew the cracks. I'd spent eighteen years memorizing them.I followed her.The door slammed behind us, rattling the metal frames of the lockers. The crowd's noise vanished, replaced by the hum of fluorescent lights and my own ragged breathing."What the

DERICK’S POVI arrived at Blackwood Academy like I owned the place.Because technically? My father's money had built half of it. The east wing. The new dormitories. The state-of-the-art ice maintenance system that kept the rink frozen year-round. Every brick, every beam, every goddamn lightbulb had Blackwood stamped on it somewhere.So when my Porsche slid into the reserved parking spot, the one with my name already on it, I didn't feel like a new student.I felt like a king returning to his throne."Mr. Blackwood." The director met me at the entrance, sweating through his cheap suit. "Welcome. Welcome. We're so honored to have you—""Save it." I tossed him my keys. "Park it. Don't scratch it. And point me to the rink."He pointed. I walked.The main arena was cavernous. Cold. Smelled like frozen water and desperation. A few skaters dotted the ice, practicing their spins and jumps. Amateurs. None of them mattered.I scanned the crowd.There. Center ice. Silver-blonde hair catching the

DERICK'S POV I didn't sleep.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face. That flicker of pain before the ice returned. The way his hands trembled when he walked away. The sound of my own voice screaming that word into the crowd.Disease.I'd called him a disease.And the worst part? I still wasn't sure if I was lying.The sun crept through my window like a guilty witness. Pale. Accusing. I'd spent the night on the bathroom floor, surrounded by shattered glass from my phone, replaying every second of the party on a loop.My heart hadn't stopped pounding since I touched his wrist.I was still on the floor when my door slammed open."Get up."Leo. My best friend. The only person on this campus who actually gave a damn about me."Go away.""Get. Up." He grabbed my arm, hauling me to my feet. His eyes went wide when he saw my face. "Jesus, Derick. You look like death. What the hell happened last night?"I told him. Everything. The roses. The confession. The way Ciel saw through it all. T

DERICK'S POVEvery time I closed my eyes, I saw that silhouette on the rooftop, phone raised, watching Ciel like prey. The blackmailer wasn't hiding behind screens anymore. They were here. On campus. Close enough to touch.At six in the morning, I pounded on Leo's door. He opened it looking like he hadn't slept either."Ciel's on his way," I said, pushing past him. "Tell me you found something."Leo rubbed his eyes and gestured to his laptop, which was surrounded by empty coffee cups. "I've been working all night. The metadata on the video is clean. Whoever recorded it knew what they were doing.""So we have nothing?""I didn't say that." He sat down and pulled up a window filled with code. "The messages were sent through a burner phone, but that phone connected to the campus Wi-Fi. Specifically, the east wing router.""The hockey dorms.""Exactly. And here's where it gets interesting." He clicked on a log file. "The phone pinged the network at 2:47 AM last night. At the exact same ti

DERICK'S POVMy father's campus office was on the top floor of the Blackwood Wing, the building he'd paid for and named after himself. I'd been inside it exactly twice. Once when I enrolled, when he gave me a lecture about not embarrassing the family name. Once when I quit hockey, when he told me I was dead to him.Tonight made three.The hallway was dark, the cleaning staff long gone. I used my old keycard—the one I'd never returned after he cut me off. It still worked. Of course it did. My father was too arrogant to deactivate it.The office smelled like leather and bourbon and old money. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the frozen lake. A massive oak desk sat in the center, pristine except for a single manila folder. I walked past it to the filing cabinet in the corner.Locked.I pulled a paperclip from the desk drawer and bent it straight. Leo had taught me how to pick locks freshman year, back when we used to break into the hockey rink after hours for extra practice. I never t