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Chapter 4 The Confrontation

Word Count: 2011    |    Released on: 02/05/2026

s dead and silent. The victory parties had finally died down. T

g concrete structure of the

and intimidating shadows across the empty parking lot. My fingers were

ing evidence rested

ing night air. I was a pre law student. I was supposed to be logical. I was su

hunting a crimi

l hinges groaned loudly in the quiet night. I sli

e a physical slap. The thick smell of frozen wate

ghts were turned off. Only the emergency backup bulbs illumina

nel. My heartbeat hammered a f

I hea

crack of dense rubber

s. I hid behind the thick safety netting

was alone

l offensive drills tonight

es. He was not wearing his bulky shoulder pads or his protective helmet. He wore fitted

stick. He wound up his muscular body. The torque in hi

ammed into the crossbar of the empty

gged another puck into p

ac

empty plastic seats. It sounded like a guns

e shadows. My breath

yout. A greedy athlete would be out at the clubs right now. A g

man trying to shat

ack skate lifted high off the ice. The rubber disc missed the net and

hed bac

d from his dark, messy hair down his sharp jawline. He rested his glov

ked br

oundaries in my mind began to blur. The prosecutor inside my head demande

rom behind the

the metal bleachers

ighting. The exhaustion vanished from his posture instantly. He straightened to his

lt like lead. The sound of my footsteps echoed i

tting that surrounded the outer edge of the rink. The thick

wly across the

moved with a silent, predatory grace. The scrape of hi

f the glass. He was standing l

ng. His broad shoulders blocked out the dim st

e," he said. His voice was a low, rough rumbl

nt coming from him. It

at. I forced myself to stand tall.

h me," I replied. My voice shook sli

der. I slammed it down onto t

cle feathered in his tight jaw.

The quiet tone of his voice was f

ssional detachment I possessed. "It outlines three highly uncharacteristic hooki

stared at me with an u

ath and delivered

our statistical anomalies are perfectly synchronized with high risk betting sprea

arena. It was a thick,

im to call me crazy. I waited for him t

ne of thos

gloved hands. He leaned his face closer to the barrier. Hi

d. The calm facade was cracking. The raw

rrogation. "But if I slide this folder under the door of the athletic director tomorrow mor

wanted to see if the threat

out your own team so a syndicate can line their pockets

go of th

ith a brutal, deafening crack. The composite shaft sna

roken pieces a

ed a few feet to my left. He unlatched the heav

ed off t

ber matting. The skates made him several inches

was no longer

run. I took a panicked step backward.

too

speed. He crossed the short distan

not hurt me. But he used h

ed his large hands onto the cold cinderblock wall be

back hit the

f mint body wash, fresh sweat, and pure, burning adrenaline

his face. We we

n was gone. The golden boy was dead. He w

brushed against my cold cheeks. "You think I want to do th

s like a trapped bird. "Then why

forehead. The proximity was intoxicating and terrify

r in a hospital," he said. His voice broke on the last word. The raw agon

ortured eyes. The air

y was correct. He was sacrificing his own fut

manila folder slipped from my numb fingers.

folder. Then he looked back do

s a fierce, lethal possessiveness. He shifted his weight, pressing his s

, Caroline?" he whispered. His rough vo

g to find the tru

head. He tossed it onto the floor. He ran his thick fingers through my

oftly across my cheekbone. It was a terrifyi

with a dangerous fire. "Those men watching the game footage. They track the ne

ashed over me. The syndic

about me?"

from my ear. "You just painted a massive target on your own back. You stepped right into my ni

or's

dragged into his dangerous world, what do you think he will do to keep her safe? Please let me kn

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