Page 76 of Traded

“I’m fine.”

See it. See me. Say something.

He opens his mouth—

“Stealing our rink time now too, Reynolds?”

No.No.

But Carter’s already turned away, his expression settling into familiar lines of stone. His retort is sharp, whatever words he just had vanishing beneath contempt. “Leavingourrink, Mercer. Problem?”

He was going to say something. He was.

But his hand tightens around mine as he tugs me forward. I follow silently, legs suddenly unsteady as we approach the group of scarlet jerseys clustered in the doorway.

Boone gives me a grin. “Hope I’m interrupting.”

I don’t say a word. Boone’s smirk slips at whatever he sees on my face. “You good, ragdoll?”

Carter gets in his face, nudging me back and pushing close enough that their noses touch. “Don’tfucking speak to her.”

“Don’t tell her who she can and can’t speak with. I was asking her a goddamned question. Shut the fuck up.” Boone turns back to me, ignoring the incensed alpha less than an inch away from his face. “Rosie?”

Carter squeezes my hand, and I swallow. “I’m fine.”

Boone’s eyes flicker, but Carter yanks me past him roughly. “Come on.Asshole.”

Shouldering between Yukov and Austin Navarro, he pulls me alongside him. Yukov stays silent, but Navarro inhales as I pass, and my cheeks turn scarlet.

I glance over my shoulder. Boone watches us go with a deep frown. Mackenzie murmurs to him, both alphas looking our way before Carter pulls me out of sight.

“Fuckers.” Carter squeezes my hand. “I’ll be glad when they can fuck off back to their own arena.”

“Yeah,” I manage finally.

There’s not really anything else to say.

Chapter twenty-two

Pack Bros & Todd

Games Played:15/82

Blackwater Titans

12–2–1

1st Atlantic Division

Callum Morris, NPHL Network Analyst:

"Fifteen games in, and the Titans are looking every bit the contender we expected. Carter Reynolds has the offense humming despite injury fears as Blackwater enters its toughest road swing of the season sittingatop the Atlantic. Chicago, St. Louis and Minnesota will be a measuring stick—but right now, this is the team everyone else is trying to catch."

Jonas hoots, glancing over his shoulder and wiggling his eyebrows at me. “Damn, this is fancy. Did you see this? That’s genuine leather. Real deal shit.”

He lifts my bag and slots it into an overhead locker. The charcoal leather coating is embossed with the Titans logo.

Everythingis embossed with the Titans logo. If I tested the undoubtedly perfect bathroom, I’d probably see it stamped in the middle of my forehead. Jonas settles his hands on my shoulders, squeezing before he lets go. “Got everything you need?”