The other rink is small, probably reserved
for private skate parties and local competitions. The sign on the
door says the ice is off-limits until two. Still, there’s no one
down in this part of the concourse yet, and when Dante presses his
face to the window set up high in the door, he says he doesn’t see
anyone in the hall. Ryan tries the door—unlocked, and he holds it
open as Dante guides his chair through. “We’re going to get
caught,” he says softly, watching Dante pull the door shut behind
them. His heart pounds in his chest at the threat of discovery.
“Tough s**t,” Dante mutters. He’s
still in that mood of his and Ryan swears he’ll do something about
it as soon as he gets a chance, Dietrich’s not going to get away
with much more. He’ll see to that himself. Pushing Ryan’s
