Juliette’s POV
The arena was eerily silent now. The echoes of the earlier chaos had faded, leaving only the soft hum of the ventilation and the distant drip of water somewhere in the building. I clutched my bag to my chest, my knuckles white, and forced myself to take a step forward. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to run, yet my feet stayed rooted to the ground.
The shadow lingered in the corner, tilting their head as if studying me. The rain outside pattered against the glass, each drop a reminder that the world was moving while I stood trapped in this moment. My breath came in shallow, sharp bursts, and I could feel the pulse in my throat, in my temples, in my chest—too fast, too loud.
I tried to focus on anything else. The smell of the rink—the faint scent of ice, leather, and
