Chapter 91 Chapter 91
The rink had always been the one place where everything made sense.
Noise. Speed. Impact. Rules that didn’t change depending on who was watching.
Jace stood at the entrance to the ice, helmet in his hand, the cold air rolling over him in sharp waves. The crowd was louder than usual tonight. Not just students. Not just parents.
There were cameras.
That was new.
He didn’t need to turn to know why.
In the front row, dressed like the event had been planned around her, Zayelle sat beside his father.
Perfect posture. Perfect smile.
Across the aisle, a few rows back, Cass sat with Lena.
No dress. No effort to match the spectacle.
Just a sweater.
Just her.
And somehow, that made it harder to breathe.
The whistle blew.
The game started fast.
Too fast.
Jace played like someone trying to outrun something. Harder hits. Faster turns. No hesitation. No restraint.
The crowd loved it.
His coach didn’t.
“Control, Jace!” he shouted from the bench.
But control was the one thing slipping.
Every time he skated past the stands, he saw it.
Zayelle clapping politely.
His father watching, unreadable.
Cass sitting still.
Not cheering.
Not smiling.
Just watching him like she was already preparing herself for something.
Midway through the second period, a player from the opposing team slammed into him harder than necessary.
Jace hit the boards.
Hard.
Something snapped inside him.
He shoved back.
The other player shoved harder.
Gloves dropped.
The fight broke out fast and ugly, bodies crashing into the ice as the crowd exploded.
Jace didn’t even hear the whistle.
Didn’t feel the referees pulling him off.
Didn’t notice the penalty being called.
All he knew was the pressure.
The noise.
The anger that had nowhere else to go.
When he was forced onto the bench, breathing hard, helmet off, his coach leaned in close.
“What is wrong with you tonight?”
Jace didn’t answer.
Because he knew.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
In the stands, Lena leaned toward Cass.
“That wasn’t about the game.”
Cass shook her head slowly.
“No.”
Across the aisle, Zayelle clapped again as if nothing unusual had happened.
As if she was watching a performance she’d expected.
When her eyes met Cass’s, she smiled.
Not triumphant.
Not cruel.
Just calm.
Like things were unfolding exactly the way they should.
Cass looked back at the ice.
Jace wasn’t looking at the crowd anymore.
He was staring straight ahead.
Alone.
After the game, the locker room was quiet.
Too quiet.
Jace sat on the bench, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.
The door opened.
He expected his coach.
Or his father.
Instead—
“Rough night.”
Cass’s voice.
He looked up.
She stood in the doorway, hesitant but steady.
For a second, relief hit him so hard it almost hurt.
“You shouldn’t be back here,” he said.
“Probably not.”
She stepped inside anyway.
The door closed behind her.
Silence stretched between them.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally.
“For what?”
“For… all of it.”
Cass leaned against the wall.
“I don’t think you’re doing anything wrong.”
That surprised him.
“Then why does it feel like I am?”
She didn’t answer right away.
Because the truth wasn’t simple.
“Because you’re letting things happen,” she said softly.
Jace looked down again.
“I don’t know how to stop them.”
That was the most honest thing he’d said in weeks.
Cass swallowed.
“I know.”
Another silence.
Then she added, quieter,
“But I don’t know how long I can stand here while it keeps happening.”
That landed heavy.
Jace stood.
Took a step toward her.
“I’m trying.”
“I see that,” she said.
“And it still hurts.”
Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside.
Voices.
Then the locker room door opened again.
His father walked in.
Behind him—
Zayelle.
She paused when she saw Cass.
The smallest flicker of surprise.
Then it disappeared.
“Jace,” his father said calmly, ignoring the tension in the room. “Media wants a quick statement. Nothing dramatic. Talk about team discipline.”
His eyes shifted to Cass briefly.
Then away.
Like she wasn’t part of the equation.
Zayelle stepped forward.
“I’ll walk with you,” she said smoothly.
Not a question.
Jace didn’t move.
The room felt like it was closing in.
Cass stepped back first.
“I should go.”
Jace turned toward her.
“Cass—”
But she was already at the door.
And this time—
She didn’t look back.
Later that night, Cass sat on her bed, lights off, phone glowing in her hands.
Messages from Lena.
From Jacinta.
From her mom asking if she was home.
One message from Jace.
I didn’t choose that.
She stared at it.
Then typed back.
I know.
She hesitated.
Then added:
But you didn’t stop it either.
She turned her phone off after that.
Because for the first time—
She didn’t want to wait for his reply.
Across town, Zayelle sat in her room, removing her earrings slowly.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Marvin.
Game didn’t help his image.
She replied:
Good.
A pause.
Then another message:
Event is in two days.
She stared at her reflection.
Calm.
Perfect.
Controlled.
Then she typed:
By the end of that night, there won’t be any doubt left about where everyone belongs.
She set the phone down.
And smiled.