Chapter 65: The Return of Number 14

Aveline’s pov

The gates of Crestwood Academy were ahead Standing on the sidewalk, watching the sea of expensive cars drop off students. A familiar suffocating weight settled onto my chest. But this time, the grief that used to make my knees weak had been completely forged into a cold, revenge.

Coming back here after what happened was different, I hated myself for loving Kieran and failing my brother. But now I only have to correct my Mistakes i adjusted the strap of my backpack, looking at the white envelope in my hands.

I took a deep breath, smoothing down the front of the Crestwood blazer. I adjusted my posture, and I walked through the front with the exact, easy quietness that my brother always carries.

The moment I stepped into the main lobby,

I ignored the staring eyes, keeping my gaze locked straight ahead as I marched toward the main administration building. My destination was clear: Principal Vance’s office.

I knocked twice on the door before pushing it open. Principal Vance looked up from his paperwork, a polite, irritated expression on his face that instantly morphed into pure bewilderment when he recognised me.

"Cater" Vance stood up from his leather chair, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. "What... what are you doing here?

"I want to ....." I interrupted, my voice smooth,

I stepped into the office, closing the door behind me. I walked right up to his desk and dropped the white envelope onto the table.

"What is this?" Vance asked, hesitating before picking it up.

"My athletic reinstatement forms," I said, leaning forward slightly, anchoring my hands on the edge of his desk. "And attached to it is a full, finalised medical clearance from my chief neurologist. My cardiovascular and neurological functions are entirely stable. I am physically fit to resume competitive sports immediately."

Principal Vance pulled the documents from the envelope. I watched his eyes scan the medical report, lingering on the official hospital seal and the signature at the bottom. His brow furrowed in deep confusion. "Asher, this is... extraordinary. But given the severity of your recovery, the board will need time to review..."

"The board doesn't need time, sir," I cut in, my voice turning icy. "The bylaws state that if a student athlete provides a certified, unrestricted medical release from a licensed city hospital, the school cannot legally bar them from participating in mandatory team activities. If you deny my reinstatement today, my family’s legal counsel will look into why Crestwood is intentionally sabotaging a scholarship track student."

It was a bluff. My mother didn't have the money for a massive legal battle but Vance didn't know that. Crestwood hated bad press more than anything.

Vance swallowed hard, looking from the paper back to my cold, unblinking eyes. He cleared his throat, adjusting his tie. "Very well. If the doctors have cleared you, the school will honour the documentation. You are officially reinstated to the academic and athletic rosters. But I expect you to maintain your grades, Carter."

"Always do, sir," I said, a dangerous, mocking smile touching my lips.

I snatched the empty envelope back, turned on my heel, and walked out. Step one was complete.

Ten minutes later, I walked into the varsity locker room.

The air inside smelled exactly the same: incense, ice gear, and sweat. The loud, booming voices of the Crestwood hockey team echoed off the tiled walls as players laced up their skates and packed their bags for the afternoon scrimmage.

The moment the heavy door clicked shut behind me, the room fell into silence.

One of the defensemen dropped his stick, Coach Hale, who was standing by the board with a marker in his hand, froze mid-sentence. His jaw literally dropped.

"Carter?" Coach Hale breathed, stepping forward, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. "What the hell? Where have you been since after summer... the school told us you weren't coming back."

"You can't get rid of me that easily, Coach," I said, letting a casual, cocky grin slide onto my face. I walked past the players, dropping my gym bag onto the bench right in front of the locker.

"I can now play coach" I said confidently

"Are you cleared?" Coach asked, still looking like he had seen a ghost.

"One hundred per cent," I replied, pulling the signed roster slip from my pocket and tossing it onto his clipboard. "Principal Vance just signed off on it. I’m back on the active roster."

Theo and the other guys broke out into hesitant grins, coming over to clap me on the shoulder. I forced myself to endure the physical contact, laughing off their questions and keeping the façade perfectly intact. But my eyes weren't on them.

My eyes were locked on the far corner of the locker room.

Kieran Hampton was sitting on the bench, his eyes were on me. His hands were completely frozen. His face was entirely drained of colour.

I knew he wanted to talk probably asked what happened as a fucking liar and fake he was.

I slowly walked across the locker room, until I stopped right in front of him. I looked down at him, my expression shifting from the warm, casual teammate to something incredibly dark and hollow.

"Hey, Kieran," I said, my voice dropping into a low, murmur. "Miss me?"

Kieran swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing violently. He forced himself to stand up, "Carter. Why do you ...... I care about your new shenanigans. When you easily trust people.

"People say a lot of things," I interrupted, stepping into his personal space, forcing him to take a half-step back against his locker. "But as you can see, I'm perfectly fine. In fact, I've never felt better."

Kieran’s eyes darted frantically around the locker room, realising the entire team was watching us. "Don't you think you're going into the rink. Is not safe

I didn't blink. I didn't yell. I just looked at him with an absolute lack of human emotion, a coldness that seemed to catch him completely off guard.

"You don't have to care about me, Hampton," I whispered.

Kieran had completely looked at me, really looked at me, He could tell something was fundamentally wrong. The boy standing in front of him didn't look like the Aveline he had fallen for. This version felt entirely different: ruthless and dangerous.

An hour later, the team skated out onto the ice for the first official scrimmage of the season.

The cold air hit my face, shocking my senses. I gripped the hockey stick tightly, the heavy padding of the gear protecting me from the world. I stood by the team bench, watching Kieran lead the first line out onto the ice. He was skating hard, trying to prove his dominance, but I could see the tension in his eyes. He kept glancing back toward the bench, checking to see where I was.

He was distracted. He was terrified.

I pulled my helmet down. I looked out at the smooth white ice stretching out before me.

This was what Kieran loved so much, the place he felt free from his father's clutches and where he wanted to build his dreams and future. And this will be the exact place I am going to tear him to pieces.

I skated out onto the ice, the sharp steel of my blades cutting cleanly into the surface. I lined up right opposite Kieran for the face-off, the black rubber puck resting in the referee's hand between us.

Kieran looked up, his eyes meeting mine through the metal cage of his helmet.

I gave him a slow, chilling nod. The game had officially begun.