Page 63 of Off the Ice

“You even think about touching her,” I growled, voice deadly quiet, “and I’ll end you myself.”

Andrew’s expression didn’t change, but I felt the way his pulse jumped beneath my grip.

“Logan,” he said carefully, evenly, “this is the part where you make a choice.”

I held him there for another second, my heart pounding, the sheer force of my fury making my vision blur at the edges. Then I let go, shoving him back into his chair with enough force that it scraped against the floor. I stepped away, chest heaving, blood roaring in my ears. I didn’t need to think about it. I already knew. I turned and walked out, slamming the door behind me. By the time I reached my car, my hands were shaking with adrenaline. I climbed in, barely registering my own movements as I pulled my phone from my pocket and hit Ava’s name.

She picked up on the first ring. “Logan?”

I gripped the steering wheel, my breath still unsteady. “Fuck it.”

A pause. Then, softer but steady: “No turning back?”

I closed my eyes, exhaling sharply. “I’d rather blow my whole life up than risk you.”

The words came out rough, but I meant them. Every single one. Because this wasn’t just about Darren.

Or the league.

Or my career.

It was her.

Ava.

And I’d burn everything to the ground before I let them touch her.

Thirty Three

Ava

IthoughtIwouldfeel more afraid.

That making this choice—choosing to burn everything down—would come with more hesitation. But as I sat on the couch, Logan beside me, scrolling through the dozens of emails and documents we had collected, I didn’t feel afraid.

I felt ready.

Logan exhaled beside me, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes before dropping them to his lap. “So that’s it. We’re really doing this.”

I nodded. “We have to.”

We’d spent hours talking through every possible scenario. What could happen. What we could lose. What Darren would have to face when his story became national news, he was still at the center… the rookie who got caught up in way more than he could handle.

Logan leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. “I called my lawyer,” he admitted. “Just to make sure there wasn’t some angle we weren’t thinking about.”

“And?”

“And he told me exactly what I already knew: once we do this, there’s no undoing it.” He turned his head toward me. His eyes weren’t uncertain, but they were heavy. “Are you sure?”

I reached for his hand, threading my fingers through his. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Logan nodded once, then sat up straighter. “Alright. Then we go all in.”

By morning, I had secured an exclusive.

Chicago 7 News.

A station big enough to make noise, but local enough to hit the heart of the Hellblades’ fanbase first. If we dropped this bomb anywhere, it had to be here, in the city that would feel its impact the most.

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