Red Ice Detroit: Become Human Novels & Stories

he says, like he’s asking me to pass the salt. I blink. “Excuse me?” “Rumors follow me like flies. Girls whisper, guys stare, teachers wait for me to snap. People love a villain story.” His gaze sharpens. “But if I’m with you, little Miss Smart Girl, scholarship material, suddenly I’m not just trouble. I’m redeemable.” My jaw drops. “You’re insane.” “And in exchange,” he continues smoothly, ignoring me, “I help you win that scholarship. You get back on the ice, I train you, push you, whatever it takes. We both get what we need.”

I turn. "He incinerated six slices of toast for you." A small, mournful smile crosses her face. "I observed it on the security feed. Julian Croft, the ice king, the apex predator, burning toast at five in the morning because he wanted to construct you breakfast. That's when I understood. You're not merely an asset to him. You're not merely a contract. You're the first person who ever made him desire to be human." I don't answer. I walk out the door and descend the stairs and step into the freezing Detroit morning. The salt trucks have completed their circuit. The streets gleam white beneath the gray sky. The Michigan Central skeleton observes from the distance.

That was the man who survived by never caring. He reclaimed a stool at the bar, back turned to his teammates. He ordered a straight rye and threw it back, barely registering the liquid fire as it carved a path down his throat. The reality was a bitter pill: he’d thought he could simply revert to the factory settings—the person he was before Kol Reyes—but the software had been permanently altered. He didn't know how to navigate this new version of himself. So he ordered another rye, and then another, drinking with a frantic, systematic intensity until the lights dimmed and the world finally dissolved into a blessed, silent black.

"That's impossible... I saw him..." "Saw what?" I pushed the door open and walked into the office. Gauze was still wrapped around my forehead, but my eyes were clear. "Saw my father and I trapped in the fire?" Senna's head snapped up, her eyes filled with disbelief. "You... How..." I let out a cold laugh and came to a stop beside Maggie. "Senna, did you think getting a second life meant you could do whatever you wanted? Too bad. This time around, I came back too."

"So, stop worrying about your humanity, Aiden. You lost that a long time ago. Embrace the ice. Because if we’re going to burn the world down to find the people who built this cage, we’re going to need a lot more than a man with a heavy heart. We’re going to need a storm." Aiden felt the cold surge into his mind, dulling the edges of his fear, sharpening his resolve into something jagged and terrifying. He looked at his reflection one last time. The man he had been—the man who once worried about bread and cold—was gone. In his place stood an instrument of destruction. "Fine," Aiden said, his voice distorted, layering over itself like wind howling through a mountain pass. "If they want a monst

The defenseman he had collided with stumbled backward, pale-faced and shaken. "I didn't mean…" "Move!" The coach barked. The arena suddenly felt too quiet. Leon lay curled on the ice, one hand gripping his leg. His jaw was clenched so tightly that a vein bulged along his neck. Blood stained the ice beneath him. A thin crimson trail. Noa's stomach dropped. For a moment he couldn't breathe. The sight didn't make sense. Leon was always standing, fighting, and looking annoyingly untouchable. Seeing him broken on the ice felt

, I said, acting cool. I was good at acting when I wanted to. It was a natural talent, unlike Olivia, who could not hide the fact that she was shocked, angry, disgusted, and confused all at once. Her clothes and face were stained with Jade's blood. It was easy to tell she had never been stained with blood before. I, on the other hand, had lost count of how many times I had gotten stained with different people's blood, which usually meant a trip to the hospital to check for diseases. Olivia would need to get used to seeing blood; she would be seeing a lot more of it.

Candice raised her eyebrows at her son. "Tell what?" Candice asked and crossed her arms. "She's a human, Mom," Blaze confessed. "My mate is a human," he added and slumped on the couch. There was a long silence between them. Candice sat on the opposite couch in front of her son's. "That's a shocking revelation you got there, son," Candice said. She never knew it could be possible for a human to become mate with the werewolves but seeing her son right now, and the impossible becomes realizable.

he asked instead. “Hell camp is the right word,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. My muscles tensed under my own touch, stiff as stone. “Cole doesn’t train humans. He trains soldiers. My legs are basically useless stumps now.” Isaac whistled. “Damn. Didn’t know figure skating required boot camp.” He said. I rolled my eyes. “Apparently it does when your coach is Cole Westwood,” I said, letting myself flop back against the headboard. The ache in my spine protested immediately. “He makes us run suicides on ice. Suicides. On. Ice.”

Roman Thorne is the invincible team leader of college hockey. He is large, aggressive and a nightmare to the media. The press, however, does not know what makes the Briarwood Ice Devils so feared. They are not just players. They are ruthless, blood-swilling offspring of the most formidable crime business in the city. Trying to keep a small scandal which is about to blow up their small business, the Thorne family appeals to the service of Sloane Mercer. She is 24 years old and a brilliant ruthless PR fixer. Her task is easy: to improve the image of the team, to work with press, and not to put Roman in the prison. But Sloane has not come to save them. She is here to ruin them. Sloa