Juliette’s POV
The arena felt different that morning. The air hung heavy, not from the usual cold or the smell of fresh ice, but from something else—danger, anticipation, and a tension I couldn’t shake. Every echo of my footsteps on the metal stairs sounded amplified, like a warning. My kit bag dug into my shoulder as I tried to steady my racing thoughts. Someone was watching. Someone was always watching.
I forced myself to focus on routine—skates, sticks, tape—but even the familiar clatter of the pucks hitting the boards did nothing to ground me. My mind kept flashing back to the previous night’s messages, the warnings, and that voice in my head whispering that nothing was safe anymore. The unknown, the invisible predator, it wasn’t just a threat; it was real.
Dorian was already on the
