Chapter 85 Chapter 85
The week did not feel normal.
There was something heavy in the air, like the whole school was holding its breath without realizing it.
The hockey championship was three days away.
Posters were everywhere. Lockers covered in team colors. Announcements running every morning. Teachers pretending to care about lessons while half the class checked game schedules.
But underneath the excitement, there was tension.
Because everyone knew.
This wasn’t just a game.
It was Jace versus Marvin.
And this time, it wasn’t brotherly competition.
It was war
Cass noticed it first in the way people looked at Jace.
He wasn’t just the quiet twin anymore.
After his last performance, after the way he took control of the ice and shut down the opposing team almost single-handedly, the school had started seeing him differently.
Respect.
Curiosity.
And something close to fear.
He moved through the hall like someone who didn’t need to prove anything anymore.
And somehow, he always ended up near her.
Not hovering.
Not obvious.
Just close enough that when someone bumped her too hard or whispered something under their breath, the person would suddenly remember somewhere else they needed to be.
Lena noticed it too.
“He’s not protecting you,” she said one afternoon at their lockers. “He’s orbiting you.”
Cass rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed.
“He’s just… being nice.”
Lena snorted. “That boy does not know how to be ‘just nice.’ He looks at you like you’re the only calm thing in his life.”
Cass didn’t answer.
Because she had seen that look.
And it scared her a little.
Across the hallway, Zayelle was building her own presence.
She had moved easily into the popular circle, laughing with the right people, sitting at the right tables, showing up in photos without looking like she tried.
But she never ignored Cass.
That was the strange part.
Every now and then, their eyes would meet across the room.
Zayelle would smile.
Not fake.
Not warm either.
Just… knowing.
Like she was watching something unfold.
Marvin, on the other hand, was unraveling.
At practice, he was aggressive. Too aggressive.
Shouting at teammates.
Slamming his stick when someone missed a pass.
Once, he nearly started a fight with one of the defensemen over a mistake that hadn’t even been that serious.
The coach had pulled him aside twice that week.
It didn’t help.
Because the problem wasn’t the team.
The problem was Jace.
Thursday afternoon, the tension finally showed itself.
Cass and Lena were walking toward the cafeteria when raised voices echoed from the gym hallway.
They slowed.
A small group of players stood near the entrance, pretending not to stare.
Inside, Marvin’s voice was sharp and furious.
“You think one good game makes you better than me?”
Jace stood a few feet away, calm, hands at his sides.
“I didn’t say anything,” he replied evenly.
“That’s the problem!” Marvin snapped. “You walk around like you don’t care, like this is nothing to you.”
Jace’s expression didn’t change.
“I don’t care about the spotlight,” he said quietly. “I care about winning.”
The words hit harder than a shout.
Marvin stepped closer.
“This is my team.”
“It’s the school’s team,” Jace corrected.
For a second, it looked like Marvin might swing.
Then he noticed the players watching.
The hallway.
The attention.
His jaw tightened.
He shoved past Jace and stormed out, nearly knocking into Cass and Lena without even looking at them.
Lena let out a slow breath.
“Well,” she murmured. “That’s healthy.”
Cass didn’t laugh.
Because when Jace walked out a moment later, his eyes went straight to her.
And something in them was tired.
Later that day, during lunch, the shift became public.
Cass and Lena were sitting near the middle tables when a group of juniors nearby started arguing over game predictions.
“Marvin’s been captain for years.”
“Yeah, but Jace is faster.”
“Marvin plays aggressive.”
“Jace plays smart.”
The conversation spread.
Table to table.
Students picking sides.
For the first time, Marvin wasn’t the automatic favorite.
Across the room, Marvin noticed.
His expression darkened.
Then his eyes moved.
Past the students.
Past the tables.
Until they landed on Cass.
The look wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t dramatic.
But it was cold.
And for the first time in weeks, Cass felt a small chill crawl up her spine.
After school, the parking lot was crowded with players heading to extra practice.
Cass was unlocking her car when she heard footsteps behind her.
She turned.
Jace.
He wasn’t in uniform yet, just carrying his gear bag over one shoulder.
“You okay?” he asked.
The question caught her off guard.
“I should be asking you that.”
A corner of his mouth lifted.
“I’ve dealt with Marvin my whole life.”
She hesitated.
“He’s getting worse.”
Jace’s eyes flicked toward the gym, then back to her.
“He’s scared.”
“Of you?”
“Of losing control.”
There was a quiet confidence in his voice now. Not arrogance. Just certainty.
Cass studied him for a moment.
“You’re going to win, aren’t you?”
Jace didn’t answer right away.
Then he said softly, “I’m not playing to beat him.”
“Then what are you playing for?”
His gaze held hers.
“For something that actually matters.”
Her heart skipped.
He didn’t say more.
But he didn’t need to.
That evening, rumors started moving through group chats.
Marvin had gotten into another argument at practice.
The coach had warned him.
Someone said the captain position might change after the championship.
Someone else said the Thorne family was already under pressure from sponsors.
Lena showed Cass her phone.
“Your boy is about to start a revolution.”
“He’s not my boy,” Cass said automatically.
Lena smirked.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
The night before the game, the school felt electric.
Students posting countdowns.
Team photos.
Predictions.
But underneath the excitement, there was something else.
Anticipation.
Because everyone could feel it.
This wasn’t just a championship.
It was a turning point.
For the team.
For the brothers.
And for Cass, whether she wanted it or not.
Because for the first time since all of this started, she realized something.
If Jace won…
Everything would change.
And Marvin wouldn’t take that quietly.