My foot is heavy on the gas pedal as I speed through the quiet streets, gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles ache.

I fumble with the phone, redialing her number, trying to get a hold of her.

Just like the previous times, it goes straight to voicemail.

As I pull into the parking lot of her building, I look for her apartment on the fourth floor. The place is shrouded in darkness. Only then do I glance around for her silver Jetta and realize it’s not here.

Fuck.

I shouldn’t have pushed her away. I told myself the right thing to do was to let her go so she could follow her dreams. Just like Coach said. But right now, all I can think about is how I screwed everything up. And now I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

Where would she go at this time of night?

I rack my brain, trying to think, as my heart hammers in my chest.

Then it hits me.

The rink.

I rev the engine and squeal out of the lot, taking the turn sharply and flying toward the arena. Skating is her refuge, the one thing that has the power to calm her. But as I pull into the parking lot, something feels… off.

Ava’s car is here, parked in its usual spot, along with a few others. My gaze settles on a vehicle I don’t recognize with out-of-state plates, and a cold wave of unease rolls over me.

I cut the engine and rush inside the arena. As soon as the glass door slams shut behind me, the familiar chill hits me, but it does nothing to calm the rising panic in my chest.

The rink, the place that’s always felt safe, now feels too quiet.

Unnaturally still.

My footsteps echo off the walls as I move through the building.

The need to replace her pounds through me like a steady drumbeat. Each step only intensifies the feeling.

As I come to the second set of doors, I catch sight of her.

Ava’s at the far end of the ice, backed up against the boards. She’s pale, and even from here, the stark terror written across her expression is palpable.

And she’s not alone.

Nathan is on the ice, standing too damn close, with a gun pointed at her.

My heart stutters before beating into overdrive.

“No one will ever push you to be the best the way I did. You need me, Ava.”

The chilling calmness of his voice has my blood freezing in my veins.

“Nathan, please—” she whispers.

My body moves before my brain can catch up, slipping toward the benches. I need to replace a way to get him to stop pointing the gun at her. I crouch lower, keeping behind the boards, moving quickly but quietly. Ava shifts, turning slightly, and Nathan follows her movement. His back is to me, the gun remaining trained on her.

This is my chance.

It might be the only one I get.

I leap over the boards and hit the ice hard. It doesn’t take long for me to regain my balance. Nathan is too focused on Ava to notice me just yet. Even though he continues to talk, I barely hear him over the rush of blood that pounds in my ears.

“I didn’t want it to be like this,” he says, his voice cracking as it rises. “But you let them twist everything. Do you have any idea how much I loved you?”

I’m closer now.

His grip tightens on the gun, and I see the barrel shift, moving away from Ava. My heart seizes when I realize where it’s now pointing.

He’s turned it on himself.

“Nathan!” I shout, but it’s too late. He squeezes the trigger just as I crash into him, my body slamming into his with every ounce of my strength.

The gun goes off, the sound splitting the air.

We hit the ice hard before sliding across the smooth surface. The gun flies out of his hand and spins away. My ears ring as my breath comes out in short, sharp gasps.

Ava screams my name, but it’s distant, muffled. Almost as if I’m underwater.

“Get your phone!” I yell, my voice hoarse as I push myself up. My hands shake as adrenaline rushes through me. “And call the police!”

Ava’s frozen for a second, her face leeched of all color, but then she snaps into action, rushing toward her bag at the edge of the rink.

I refocus my attention on Nathan. He’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling as blood pools beneath him from a wound in his shoulder. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, and his eyes are wide, unfocused.

“You…” Nathan’s voice is barely audible now, broken and full of pain. “You’ll never love her the way I do.”

My hands shake as I press down on the wound and try to stem the bleeding. I glance over my shoulder to see Ava is talking on the phone. It would be impossible not to notice the way her body trembles. From the corner of my eye, I see Coach rush from the locker room and onto the ice. It doesn’t take long before he has her wrapped up in his arms. Our gazes lock for one moment as he turns her away, shielding her from the view.

Nathan’s breath rattles, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “I loved her,” he whispers, voice fading. “I made her what she is.”

I don’t bother with a response.

There’s nothing left to say.

Police and EMTs burst through the doors with a flurry of activity as I press harder on his wound, trying to keep him alive. I have no idea if he’ll make it. After everything this man has done, I honestly don’t know if he deserves to.

But one thing is clear—he’ll never hurt Ava again.

Not ever.

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