The arena lights were still on when I slipped back inside the next evening, long after official practice had ended. My body protested every movement—the deep bruises along my ribs had turned a violent shade of purple overnight, making each breath feel like a reminder of Kane’s promise to break me the same way he’d broken Lila. But the ice called louder than the pain. It always had.
I laced up alone under the dimmed house lights, the familiar ritual grounding me. When my blades hit the fresh sheet, the crisp sound echoed through the empty cavern like a heartbeat. I pushed off hard, crossovers carving clean arcs, each stride pulling at the bruises but clearing the chaos in my head. This was where I had always belonged—where physics mattered more than politics, where no one could tell me I w
