The second I see that picture, the red X slashed across Lena’s face, something inside me snaps. Not panic. Not fear. Something darker. Hotter. Rage. This shouldn’t be happening. Not with all the cameras Daniels installed. Not with the extra security. Not with the precautions we took after the blade incident. I turn on Daniels, my voice sharper than I mean it to be. “How the hell did someone get in here without being seen?”
He doesn’t flinch. “I don’t know. But we’re about to find out.”
The rink manager walks in, carrying his laptop like it weighs a hundred pounds. He looks pale, nervous, like he already knows he’s about to give us bad news.
“I pulled everything we have,” he says, setting the laptop on the bench. “But… someone tampered with the system.”
My jaw tightens. “Tampered how?”
