RUINED BY THE RIVAL: THE CAPTAIN’S SECRET SACRIFICE

CHAPTER 2: WALLS BUILT TO BURN

RUINED BY THE CAPTAIN

“Take your shoes off by the door. I don’t want dirt tracked in.”

He doesn’t even look at me when he says it, just yanks his jersey over his head and tosses it onto the bench by the entryway like it weighs a hundred pounds. I pause in the threshold, keys still cold in my hand, staring at his back. His shoulders are broad and scarred, muscles shifting under sun-darkened skin, and right over his heart there’s this jagged pale line I never noticed before—thick, ugly, like something tore right through him and never healed right.

He grabs a dark hoodie off the counter and pulls it on fast, zipping it all the way up to his chin like he’s hiding something he doesn’t want me to see.

“Rules,” he says, turning around, jaw set hard. “Stay out of the study. No guests. Nothing you see or hear in this place leaves this place. And if I tell you to stay put—you stay put.”

I kick my boots off hard enough to thud against the floor. “Who died and put you in charge of my life?”

He steps into my space in one long, heavy stride. The air shifts, thick and hot, smelling like ice and sweat and cedar and something sharp that makes my skin prickle all over. He doesn’t touch me, but he’s close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off him, close enough that every breath I take tastes like him.

“You got no clue what you walked into,” he growls, voice rough as broken glass. “You think I ruined you out of spite? Out of some stupid rivalry? I kept you breathing. That’s the only thing that matters.”

“Kept me breathing?” A bitter laugh tears out of me, sharp and shaky. “You dragged my name through the mud! You made me a joke! I had to pack a bag and leave everything I ever knew!”

His jaw clenches so hard I can see the muscle jump. His lips part like he’s gonna say it, like the truth’s right there on his tongue, but he bites it back so hard his cheek flexes. He turns away fast, walking into the kitchen like he can’t stand to be near me another second.

“Forget it,” he mutters.

I follow him, boots silent on the cool tile. He slams a glass down on the counter so hard water sloshes over the rim and runs down the side.

“What are you hiding?” I press, leaning against the island, heart hammering against my ribs. “What’s so bad you’d let me hate you for five years instead of just telling me?”

He slams his fist down once, sharp and sudden. The glass cracks clean down the middle, water spilling everywhere.

“I said drop it!”

I flinch back before I can stop myself. He sees it and freezes, his hand still resting on the broken glass, water soaking his sleeve. He pulls back slow, staring at his knuckles like he can’t believe what he just did, then runs both hands over his face, breathing hard like he just ran a full shift on the ice.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, quiet and rough, like the words hurt to say. “Just… stay out of it. Please. For your own good.”

He turns his back on me and starts wiping up the mess, moving slow, like every motion costs him something. I stand there watching him, seeing the way his shoulders hunch, the way he keeps glancing at the windows like he expects someone to be out there, the way he keeps checking the locks on the door even though he already turned them twice.

I go to my room without saying anything else, shut the door, and slide down the back of it until I hit the floor. My hands are shaking. My chest feels tight enough to burst. I remember the night of the scandal—how he didn’t look proud or angry when he said Liam cheated. He looked sick. Like he was ripping his own heart out in public. I remember how he never once looked me in the eye after that. How he let everyone call him a hero and a villain and never said a word either way.

Sometime later I wake up to silence. The apartment’s dark, only the hall light glowing soft under my door. I slip out of bed barefoot, moving quiet, and peek out into the hall. He’s sitting on the floor right outside my room, back pressed to the wall, knees pulled up, a gun resting loose in his lap. His head tilts up when he hears me, eyes dark and tired, and he doesn’t even try to hide it.

“I told you,” he says, voice low and rough, like he hasn’t slept in days. “They don’t play fair. And I’m not letting anything happen to you. Not again.”

I grip the doorframe so hard my nails dig into the wood until it stings. My throat burns hot and tight, like I swallowed glass. All those years I spent cursing his name, all those nights I cried wondering how someone could be so cruel, all that hate I carried like a shield—and now I’m standing here watching him guard my door like I’m the only thing left worth protecting. He doesn’t ask for forgiveness. He doesn’t try to explain. He just sits there, worn thin, carrying a weight no one else knows about. My breath catches in my throat, and for a second I almost step toward him. Almost ask him to tell me everything right now. But fear and anger and old hurt hold me back, locking my feet to the floor, leaving me staring at the man I thought I knew—wondering who he really is, and what he’s already lost to keep me alive.

CHAPTER 2 END