Chapter 28 Crazy Storm
The rink smelled of ice and sweat and anticipation, and for the first time in days, it felt like it belonged to me. Not Kylen. Not Lilibeth. Not Adrian. Me.
I skated in, boots cutting through the smooth ice, each stride fueled by a storm of anger and heartbreak. Every glance at Kylen tightened my chest. He was there, leaning against the boards, arms crossed, jaw clenched. Lilibeth hovered at his side, her hand brushing his arm with that smug, casual intimacy I couldn’t escape from.
And Adrian… Adrian skated past, puck in hand, smirk teasing, eyes flicking to me like he already knew the chaos he was about to ignite.
I ignored him. I didn’t need him. Not now. Not when the real battle was in front of me.
Kylen’s attention on Lilibeth was infuriating. Every laugh she tossed at him, every whisper, every brush of her hand—it was deliberate, a challenge, a claim. And I hated it. My chest ached with jealousy, betrayal, and something else, a fire I hadn’t felt in days.
This time, I wasn’t going to let it consume me. I was going to fight back.
Practice began. The rink became a battlefield, players clashing, coaches shouting, sticks slamming against the ice. Adrian moved like a storm, fast, controlled, skilled beyond anyone’s expectations. And he wasn’t subtle—he was testing Kylen. Every pass, every challenge, every glide was calculated.
Kylen’s jaw tightened. His hands gripped the stick harder. His eyes flashed toward Adrian with a mix of irritation and challenge. And Lilibeth noticed. Her fingers lingered on his arm, her smile teasing. She thought she had him. She thought she had the power.
I wasn’t going to let that happen.
I skated forward, puck on my stick, heart pounding like a war drum. Each movement was deliberate, each turn and pass a statement. I wanted Kylen to notice me. I wanted him to remember what had been ours, what had been stolen from me by careless moments and poor decisions.
And he did notice.
His eyes flicked toward me, sharp, conflicted, impossible to ignore. I could see the war raging inside him—the pull toward me, the pull toward Lilibeth. And I smiled, quietly, letting my confidence radiate through every stride.
Lilibeth’s laugh faltered as I closed the distance. I let my presence press against him, subtle but intentional. Kylen’s breath hitched. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the slight flare of his nostrils, the unspoken words he couldn’t bring himself to voice.
“You think you can just claim him?” I whispered, close enough that he could feel me, close enough that my heat brushed against him. “You’re wrong. He’s not yours. Not like you think.”
Lilibeth’s eyes narrowed, her smugness faltering slightly. “Lenora,” she said, sweet but venomous, “you’re wasting your time. He’s mine.”
“No,” I said sharply, voice low, steady. “He’s not. And I’m not going to stand aside while you pretend otherwise.”
Adrian glided past us, smirk widening. He glanced at me, then Kylen, then back at me again, eyes teasing, daring. He knew the tension he was stirring. Every movement, every subtle interaction, was a spark thrown into our fire.
And it worked.
Kylen’s hands tightened on his stick. His jaw flexed. He wanted to step in, to say something, to pull me away, but Lilibeth’s presence held him back. I could see the conflict tearing at him. He was mine, part of me knew it. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—act.
I stepped closer, letting my hand brush his arm lightly, intentionally. Lilibeth’s lips parted, a faint gasp escaping her. Kylen froze, eyes wide. That spark—the one that had always made him hesitate—was back. He wanted to reach for me. He wanted to say something. But she was there.
And I pressed on.
“I’m not invisible,” I whispered, letting my eyes lock with his. “I’m not gone. I’m still here. I’m not letting her take this from me. Not ever.”
Kylen’s eyes softened. The conflict in him was clear, visible in every line of his jaw, every twitch of his fingers, every slight shift in posture. For a fraction of a second, I had him. Just for a moment.
But Lilibeth wasn’t finished. She leaned closer, brushing his shoulder deliberately, whispering with a tone that was meant to wound. “You belong to me, Kylen. Always have, always will.”
I stepped closer, closing the distance, letting my presence dominate the space between us. “No,” I said firmly. “Not this time. Not ever. I’m not letting you win.”
The rink seemed to vibrate with the tension. Coaches shouted, sticks clanged, players skated past, but none of it mattered. The three of us—Kylen, Lilibeth, and me—were the only ones that existed in that moment.
Adrian circled again, puck in hand, eyes flicking between us like he was orchestrating the chaos. Every smirk, every glance, every subtle move fueled the fire inside me.
Kylen’s shoulders flexed, a low growl escaping him. He wanted to defend me, wanted to claim me. But Lilibeth’s presence, her confidence, her smug certainty, held him back.
I let my hand brush his arm again, more boldly this time. “I’m not going to be ignored,” I whispered. “I’m not letting you forget me. I’m not letting her take me away from you.”
Kylen’s breath hitched. His eyes darted to mine, conflicted and raw. I could see him fighting something inside himself, a war I had been waiting for days to ignite. And for a moment, he almost moved toward me. Almost.
Lilibeth’s voice cut through the moment, sharp and taunting. “Stop pretending, Lenora. You lost him already.”
I stepped closer, letting the intensity of my gaze challenge her. “No. Not yet. Not until I say it’s over.”
Adrian’s smirk widened as he glided by, watching the tension explode. Every flick of my hair, every subtle step, every heated glance was a declaration. The ice wasn’t just cold today—it was scorching under our storm.
Kylen’s jaw clenched, his hands tightening on his stick. Every muscle was tense, every flick of his eyes toward me a battle he couldn’t win quietly. And I knew—he couldn’t ignore me forever.
Because I wasn’t invisible.
I wasn’t broken.
I wasn’t backing down.
The tournament hadn’t even started.
But the war had already begun.
And this time, I wasn’t going to lose.
I would fight. I would claim what was mine.
And everyone—Kylen, Lilibeth, Adrian—would feel the fire I had become.
Because I was no longer standing in the shadows.
I was standing in the storm.