Juliette’s POV
The arena smelled of sweat, ice, and wood polish, a scent that usually comforted me. Today, it was suffocating. My pulse thumped erratically as I carried my kit across the rink, the memory of last night’s messages and the tension between Dorian and Bryan burning fresh in my mind.
I told myself repeatedly: focus. This is just practice. You are here for work, nothing more. Yet every step I took felt heavier, my body aware of the eyes that always seemed to follow me.
Bryan was at the far end again, clipboard in hand, barking instructions with an authority that left no room for argument. He glanced at me occasionally, those gold-flecked eyes flicking like fire, reminding me that he knew—he always knew. The awareness twisted my stomach, a mixture of anticipation and fear I cou
