CH188

CH188
They didn’t ask questions on the walkout. Lukas had asked Isla to inform my professors why I was missing. We all headed home, and by the time we reached the townhouse, Isla was waiting with the Chaotic Tutus and beaming like it was Christmas morning.
“You what?” she gasped when Matteo finally explained the short version. “You beat up Celeste and her goons? We need to throw a party.”
I winced. “It isn’t—”
“It absolutely is,” she declared, already pulling her phone out. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you to knock her down a peg? You’re a hero. A legend. My chaotic muse.”
"Chaotic Skate."
Isla grinned. "Chaotic Skate! Wait until your Dad finds out."
I barely had the energy to roll my eyes. The living room dimmed to something gentler after dinner. Someone shoved a mug of hot chocolate into my hands. A blanket swallowed me whole, soft and heavy, and I sank onto the couch. Lukas slid down beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, tugging me against his side until my cheek rested over his heart.
I let myself close my eyes. The warmth seeped in slowly, inch by inch, smoothing the tremors.
“They’re not going to stop,” I whispered, my voice muffled by the blanket and his shirt.
“No,” Lukas said softly. His chin rested against my hair.
I clutched the mug tighter. The image of Celeste’s snarl wouldn’t leave me, nor the van waiting outside. “We can’t just… react. We have to get ahead of them. The mirror’s one thing, but if they get the other part of the token—”
His arm tightened around me, like he could shield me from the thought alone.
“Then we find it first,” he said.
My pulse pounded in my throat, fear and determination twisting together. “We have to. Before they do. Or none of us are safe.”
For a long moment, Lukas didn’t speak. His thumb brushed slow circles over my arm.
Then he kissed the top of my head. “We’ll find it,” he promised. “And we’ll survive them. All of us. For now, just rest, okay?”
I breathed him in, warm and steady. I wanted to relax, but in my gut, I knew the clock was ticking. Sooner or later, the token had to surface. And I wasn’t sure what would happen when it did, or if we even had a chance to get it first, let alone use it.

I went to practice the next morning because I couldn't hide. I needed to think, and I did my best thinking on the ice. The rink was empty in the pale morning light. Coach Avery was working with me on my solo skate. I launched into my warmup, circling the rink faster, blades biting deeper than usual. My chest still felt tight, but it wasn’t fear. It was something meaner than that.
I was pissed off.
The first time I set the combination, I knew I was off on the takeoff. The edge wobbled, my landing clipped, and I went sprawling onto the ice. Cold burned my palms, but I was already pushing myself up.
“Again,” I muttered to no one.
This time, I threw the jump with more force, muscles coiled with anger instead of hesitation. I landed crooked, spun out of it, but my feet stayed under me.
Coach Avery clapped from the boards, but I barely heard it, gaining momentum to try again. Again. And again. The fifth try snapped into place. I landed cleanly, gliding across the ice as he cheered.
“That’s it, Vandy!” Coach Avery grinned. “Whatever's gotten into you, keep it that way! That’s the fight you need!"
The surge of pride swelled in my chest just as the doors banged open. I didn't stop, but I was confused, as two police officers strode onto the rink’s edge. Their voices carried across the ice, sharp and echoing.
“Vandy Winters?”
I narrowed my eyes. "Whose asking and why?"
“You’re under arrest for three counts of assault. Come here. If we have to chase you on the ice, it's going to be a problem.”
“What?” My voice cracked.
"Last warning, Winters."
They didn’t bother explaining further, just gestured for me to come off the ice. Coach Avery was already marching toward them, outrage etched on his face. “This is absurd—she’s a student athlete, not a criminal.”
“Sir, stand aside, or we'll arrest you, too."
I came to a stop, tilting my head, and smiled before skating the fastest, most direct path to them.
"Coach Avery, please call my lawyer."
He gave a stiff nod, and I looked at the two officers. "Are you taking me in skates, or do I get to change my shoes?"
One of them sucked on his teeth. "Shoes."
They followed me to the locker rooms, as did Coach Avery with his phone to his ear, as they watched me change into my shoes. They grabbed my back and cuffed me. They marched me out past a handful of gawking staff members, who were all recording with their phones. The cruiser ride was silent. At the precinct, they stripped me of my bag and ushered me into a holding cell with cold walls and a hard bench.
I sat and noted that they didn’t offer me a phone call. They had to know who I was, who my father was, let alone my mother, so either they thought they could get away with all of this, or they were that dumb. I sat back, rolling through every stitch of advice my mother had ever given me about dealing with the police, and listened to see if I could learn anything about why they had picked me up like this.
Soon, the holding cell was too quiet. It felt like hours had passed with no one passing by before the sound of heels clicking against the tile cut through the silence.
I lifted my head just as her face appeared beyond the bars: the woman who had hit on Lukas and still hadn't given me her name. Her smile was as polished as glass, but her eyes carried something darker.
“Well,” she said smoothly, folding her arms, “that didn’t take long.”
It tilted my head, keeping my voice flat. “Who are you?”