Page 23 of Cold Carnage

For a moment, we stood there in silence; the tension crackling between us like electricity. His eyes dropped to my lips and for a fraction of a second, I thought he might kiss me.

My core trembled with…

No. That was impossible. He would never?—

He hated me.

“I’m not pulling tricks. I’m doing my job.”

Ryker leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Is that what you call it? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re spinning this whole situation just like you did back then.”

I clenched my fists at my sides, trying to keep my voice steady. “You don’t know anything about what happened back then.”

“Oh, don’t I?” Ryker’s tone dripped with skepticism. “Enlighten me then.”

I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my composure. “There were rumors, yes. But they were just that—rumors. Nothing more.”

He watched me closely, his eyes searching for any sign of weakness. “And why should I believe you? You left my brother at the altar, Adams."

"Did you even ask why he?—"

"You… left… him," he said slowly, like I was an idiot. "Why should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?"

“Because,” I said quietly but firmly, meeting his gaze head-on, “I’ve done nothing here to deserve your suspicion. My work speaks for itself.”

"I wouldn't know," he drawled. "It seems like your assistant coach helped you take care of your job, from what I hear."

My heart pounded, frustration rising in my chest. Ryker’s accusation felt personal, and I hated that he had the nerve to dig into my past like this. I took a step closer to him, refusing to back down.

“What happened at Michigan has nothing to do with this,” I said, my voice low but firm. “What happened with Brendan has nothing to do with this. I’m here to clean up the mess you and your teammates made, and I’m doing it because it’s my job—not because I’m trying to spin some story for personal gain.”

Ryker’s eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite read—anger, maybe, or something deeper. “And what about the assistant coach? What was that? Just part of the job? A reason to leave Brendan, who did nothing to deserve?—"

"You don't know anything about what Brendan did to me," I said through clenched teeth. My chest tightened. The memory of that time, with Brendan and at Michigan—the tension, the rumors, the way I had been forced to keep everything underwraps for the sake of the team. But Ryker didn’t know the whole story. He didn’t know how complicated it had been, how much I had sacrificed to protect the people involved.

“Again, that’s none of your damn business,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “And it has nothing to do with what’s happening now.”

Ryker studied me for a moment, his gaze intense. “Doesn’t it? You’ve got a history of covering things up. And not just team scandals. But things that could break a team, things that could ruin them. Who’s to say you’re not doing the same thing here?”

I clenched my fists at my sides. I couldn’t believe he was questioning my integrity like this. “I’m trying to protect this team,” I said through gritted teeth. “You think I’m enjoying cleaning up after your mess? I’m doing this because I care about the team’s future, not because I have something to hide.”

Ryker’s gaze softened for a split second, but then his guard went back up. “You might care about the team, but I care about my reputation. I’m not letting you twist this into something it’s not. I'm not letting you destroy something and run away from it."

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm despite the anger boiling inside me. “Look,” I said slowly, measuring each word, “we’re on the same side here. We both want what’s best for the team.”

Ryker’s eyes narrowed slightly as if he were considering my words but still not fully convinced.

“I’ve put everything on the line for this job,” I continued, stepping even closer until we were almost eye-to-eye. “I don’t need your approval or your trust right now. What I need is for us to work together and fix this mess.”

For a moment, we stood there in silence, locked in a standoff of wills and unspoken histories. The weight of our shared responsibilities hung heavy in the air between us.

Ryker finally broke eye contact, looking down at his feet before glancing back up at me with a hint of reluctance in his eyes.

“Fine,” he muttered reluctantly, “but don’t think for a second that I’m letting my guard down around you.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” I replied tersely before turning back to my laptop screen and diving into work once more.

The room fell silent again except for the soft tapping of keys as I continued typing away furiously while Ryker lingered by my desk—a reluctant truce forged under fluorescent lights and unspoken tensions.

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