Offside Hearts

Answers on Thin Ice

Sienna

I had been standing outside the arena for almost twenty minutes before Luca finally appeared.

More than once, I had almost turned around and gone back to the Journalism Building. Professor Monroe had warned me not to investigate alone, and a part of me knew he was right. But another part of me kept thinking about the recording, the threatening message, and the way Luca had looked at me through the newsroom window.

Something told me he knew more than he was saying.

When the glass doors finally opened, hockey players spilled out in small groups, laughing and shoving each other after practice. Some carried their skates over their shoulders, while others were already making plans for dinner. I searched every face until I saw Luca walking behind the others with his hockey bag slung over one shoulder.

He noticed me immediately.

The surrounding conversation seemed to disappear as our eyes met across the parking lot. He slowed his steps for a second before excusing himself from his teammates and walking toward me.

You waited, he said quietly.

I wasn't sure you would come.

I almost didn't.

His honesty caught me off guard.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it carried the weight of too many unanswered questions.

“I need to show you something,” he said at last.

He reached into his pocket, unlocked his phone, and handed it to me.

The moment I read the message on the screen, my heart dropped.

Stay away from the journalist.

I looked up at him, You got this today?

He nodded.

"Just before practice."

A chill ran down my spine. I got one too.

Without another word, I opened my phone and showed him the message I had received the night before.

Delete the recording. This is your only warning.

Luca stared at the screen for several long seconds before handing my phone back.

So they aren't just watching you, he said quietly. "They're watching both of us."

The realization settled heavily between us.

Someone knew I had the recording.

Someone knew Luca had spoken to me.

Someone was keeping track of every move we made.

We shouldn't stay out here, Luca said as he glanced around the parking lot.

He led me toward a quiet courtyard behind the athletics building where the afternoon sun barely reached between the brick walls. It was far enough from the crowds that no one would overhear us, yet close enough that students occasionally walked past, making the place feel less isolated.

He set his hockey bag on a nearby bench before turning to face me.

Tell me everything.

I took a deep breath and began from the beginning.

“I was covering the charity gala for the campus newspaper. I thought I was recording interviews, but when I listened to the audio later, I realized I'd left my recorder running.”

Luca listened without interrupting.

There were several voices arguing. I couldn't recognize most of them because the music was loud, but one name stood out.

His expression became serious.

“Ethan.”

I nodded slowly.

“Someone said his name.”

He looked away for a moment, his jaw tightening.

I listened to a little more this morning.

His eyes returned to mine.

What did you hear?

“I couldn't make out every word, but I heard someone say, 'If this gets out, we are finished.' Then another voice told someone to delete everything before anyone found out.”

The courtyard suddenly felt colder.

Luca leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest.

“I don't think Ethan's death was an accident.”

I searched his face. Do you really believe that?

I have believed it for a long time.

His voice was steady, but I could hear the sadness beneath it.

The night before he died, we stayed behind after practice.

He paused, as though replaying the memory in his head.

He wasn't acting like himself. He kept checking over his shoulder every few seconds.

What did he say?

Luca let out a slow breath.

He told me he'd made a mistake.

And?

“I asked him what he meant.”

He lowered his eyes briefly before looking back at me.

“He said, 'The less you know, the safer you will be.”

The words sent a shiver through me.

Professor Monroe had said almost the same thing earlier that morning.

For the first time, I realized this wasn't just a coincidence.

Someone had been trying to keep the truth buried for years.

“What if the recording proves what really happened?” I asked quietly.

Luca didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he looked toward the arena behind us, where the lights inside had already begun to switch off for the evening.

“If it does,” he said at last, "then we are standing in the middle of something much bigger than either of us.”

Before I could respond, my phone vibrated inside my jacket pocket.

Both of us froze.

My hands trembled as I pulled it out.

Another message from the same unknown number flashed across the screen.

You should have listened.

A second message arrived before I could even breathe.

Look behind you.

Every instinct in my body screamed at me not to turn around.

Slowly, Luca stepped in front of me, his expression hardening as he looked past my shoulder.

What is it? I whispered.

His eyes never left whatever he was staring at.

Get behind me, Sienna.

I turned anyway.

Across the parking lot, a black SUV sat with its engine

running.

Its dark windows hid whoever was inside.

Then, without warning, the headlights switched on.

And the vehicle began rolling slowly toward us.