Coach Miller’s boots crunched on the ice—slow, steady, creepy. Crunch. Crunch. He gripped the sledgehammer tight, and honestly, he didn’t look like a teacher anymore. He looked like a hunter, zeroed in on his prey.
“Move, Maya,” he said, aiming the hammer at her. “You’ve done enough tonight. Hand over the key and get out of the way.”
But Maya didn’t budge. She stayed right there, kneeling over the center stone, fingers digging into the freezing ice. Her ankle throbbed—sharp, deep pain that made everything blur. Still, she felt something new rising up inside her. The kind of power that comes when you’ve got nothing left to lose.
“You’re not a coach,” she said, her voice echoing in the empty rink. “You’re just a thief.”
Miller let out this dry, ugly laugh. “I’m a businessman, Maya. And r
