Page 93 of Misconducts & Temptation

I would find a way out of this nightmare. One way or another.

Chapter 28

Keaton

"You know, your wife is a piece of work," my father drawled, his voice cutting through the cold air like a blade.

"Yeah?" I leaned on my stick, trying to keep my expression neutral.

He nodded, his gaze distant. "Reminds me of your mother."

"Yeah," I muttered, gripping my stick tighter. "I know."

My father gave me a long look before turning away, his shoulders tense under the weight of years of expectations and unspoken words. I watched him walk off the ice, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

The rink was silent except for the faint hum of the cooling system and the soft scrape of my skates against the ice as I moved toward the center. In this space, away from prying eyes and endless demands, I could almost find a moment of peace.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, watching as it misted in front of me before dissipating into nothingness.

I took a few more shots at the goal, each one hitting with a satisfying thud against the back of the net. The rhythm, the precision, it usually calmed me. Tonight, though, it felt empty. The ache in my chest hadn't dulled.

I missed Elodie.

It was strange, almost unsettling. I'd never felt this way before, not even with Lola. When I was with Lola, I didn't care if she was there or not. She was just another part of the game my father had set up for me. But Elodie? She was different.

The locker room echoed with my footsteps as I walked back in, my stick clattering against the floor as I set it aside. I leaned back against the cool metal of the lockers and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

What the hell was I supposed to do about this? The idea of missing someone, of wanting to see them just because they made me feel something real... it was foreign to me. My whole life had been about control, about keeping people at arm's length. Now, I found myself wanting to pull Elodie closer.

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration boiling under my skin. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. I wasn't supposed to care. But every time I thought about her—her laughter echoing in the empty hallways, her determined gaze as she tackled whatever crap life threw her way—I felt that tightness in my chest again.

I needed to see her.

I unlaced my skates, each tug of the laces feeling more laborious than the last. The cold metal of the locker dug into my back as I leaned against it, lost in thought. The ice had always been a place where I could forget everything, but tonight it offered no solace.

I swapped my skates for my worn-out sneakers, the familiar weight grounding me as I pulled on a hoodie and jeans. My phone buzzed on the bench next to me, dragging me back to reality. I picked it up, noticing three missed calls from a number I didn't recognize.

Frowning, I unlocked the screen to find a flood of text messages.

Keaton, Elodie's been taken.

My heart skipped a beat.

William has her.

Panic surged through me as I scrolled through the messages.

They drove off. You need to get her.

I couldn't breathe.

I have a bad feeling about this.

My fingers tightened around the phone, knuckles white with tension. William—wasn't that Elodie's…

The man she was supposed to marry before…?

The anger I felt was like a wildfire, consuming every rational thought. It burned through my veins, leaving nothing but a raw, seething rage in its wake. William had Elodie. That bastard had the audacity to take her. My muscles tensed, and my grip on the phone tightened until I thought it might shatter.

---