Juliette’s POV
The arena was unusually quiet that evening. The usual echo of pucks striking the boards and skates carving ice was replaced by a tense hush, as if the building itself knew something was off. My fingers shook as I pulled my bag tighter to my chest, my eyes darting to every shadow that stretched across the rink.
The messages from the unknown number had multiplied, each one colder than the last:
"Do not trust the obvious. Not him. Not yet. He is a wolf in disguise."
"He can’t protect you forever. Run if you want to survive. They’re coming."
Every step toward the locker room felt heavier than the last. My heart thumped violently against my ribs, threatening to burst free. Dorian was already on the ice, mask on, stretching, his movements precise but cautious, like a predator
