He shut me out first,thenhe ran away.
But he didn’t get far. The good thing is that he didn’t drive his car into the horizon and disappear from view before I could blink like the last time.
Instead, he just headed into the arena.
Naturally, Iwillfollow him.
But for now, I stay outside, dabbing at the cut on my temple courtesy of the violent motherfucker.
My ribs hurt as well, and I don’t have to look to know he gifted me with nasty bruises. Nothing new. I get bruised in hockey all the time—what’s another couple?
I tap my thumb against my middle finger as I stare at the door through which Preston disappeared a few minutes ago.
What the fuck am I even doing?
Tomorrow, I have an important game that I’m expected to knock out of the park. Allowing myself to be beaten up a day beforehand is neither logical nor beneficial in any shape or form.
Not that I could’ve stopped Preston per se.
He had a manic look in his eyes, almost as if an entirely different person possessed him and ran the show.
I don’t like those eyes. They’re different from the ones in the forest; those were manic, too, but at least they overflowed with excitement.
These were…dead. No, not dead. Scared?
He was kicking me until he almost broke a rib, but he lookedterrifiedwhile doing it.
As I watched him, I strangely developed a deep sense of resentment toward whatever the reason was for that reaction.
He’sthePreston Armstrong, as he likes to remind everyone.
The league’s prince. GU’s popular hockey god. A rich boy with the prettiest face and the most lethal body.
He takes pride in it and flaunts it all over social media. I know because I may have gone through all of his posts, studying them like an essay.
But since the forest, I’m discovering a whole different side of Preston. A side he keeps under lock and key. A side that seems to come out in destructive bouts.
And I want more.
Ineedmore.
It’s…what? A fixation?
No, not a fixation. Something worse.
The reason I first approached Preston was entirely selfish. He was my way into their world. The world my dad decided I wouldn’t belong in but is now practically begging me to join.
I thought that if I could get close to one of the other heirs—Jude, Kane, or Preston—I’d gain more insider information. That option would be way better than depending on my unreliable source for everything Graystone Ridge.
Preston is the most logical target. He’s reckless, high-profile, and emotionally volatile. If I wanted to manipulate a founding family member, he’d be the apparent vulnerability. Jude and Kane are too composed and unapproachable, but Preston is the chaos variable.
My plan was simple—rely on the Vipers versus Wolves rivalry. That way, my pursuit of Preston would look like pure competition.
Knowing Preston is a certified egomaniac, there was a hundred percent chance he’d fall for my provocations. Also, considering his rich-boy snobbishness and disregard for Stantonville, he’d definitely not come over and would invite me to Vipers Arena instead.
My eventual access to the inner circle would feel natural given the sports rivalry and overlapping social hierarchies.
He’d feel like he was doing me a favor, and that would feed his narcissistic tendencies. I’d let him believe that as I used him to find the most poetic way to bring my father and his legacy down.
