Page 78 of Melt the Ice

Oh shit. My eyes widen, and he takes that as confirmation.

“You see, when you’ve been in this business as long as we have, you have people planted on the inside of most of the companies you work with.” The knife presses a bit further into my neck.

“And imagine my surprise when I get a call that my dear old Goddaughter was being a whistleblower. Trying to save them from destruction. Your name is on that contract, Scar.”

The nickname hits harder the second time. I remember the day he gave it to me. Said I was malicious, ruthless, did whatever I needed to, just like the damn lion. “Which is exactly why I did what needed to be done.”

He nicks my skin, blood pebbles on my neck, slowly sliding down to rest in the hollow of my throat. “No, but it’s exactly why I have to finish it. We’ve worked a long time to keep this under wraps. It won’t be you, of all people, who ruins it. You could have stood at the top with us, but now…” He shrugs, “Now, you’ll join the last man who tried to stop us.”

I don’t have time to react because two things happen at once: Abby and two of the Hawks trainers run into the bathroom, and I’m quickly hit somewhere between my eye and my temple with the handle of the knife that had been pressed to my throat moments ago.

Abby’s frantic, “Help her, I’ll get him.” It's the last thing I hear before my head hits the sink on the way to the floor. Please don’t let him hurt Lucas. My heart begs

“Lettie…” My shoulders shake, the voice sounds so far away.

“Lettie.” Closer this time, is that a hint of panic? Am I dreaming?

“Shit, Lettie, get up. Monroe is going to lose his mind if they come back at the start of the next period and you’re still gone.”

Lucas? My eyes fly open, meeting Hannah’s tear-stained face. “Oh, thank God.” Her arms fly around my shoulders. The coldness of the bathroom tile is gone, looking around, I’m met with the Tennessee Knights logo and a bunch of athletic equipment.

“I called in a favor.” Abby’s voice shakes from where she’s leaning against Tate in the corner. His arms are wrapped around her shoulders, but both of their eyes are heavy on me. “Are you okay?”

“Forget about me,” panic flares as I jump off the table they laid me on, only for the world to spin and me to collapse on the floor for the second time today. “Damn it.”

I look up at Abby, “Did you get him?” My voice comes out so soft that it wavers, afraid of the answer I already know she’ll give me.

“No,” she comes to sit next to me, “but you’ve got a slit cheek and a gnarly black eye.”

I cringe, “Guess I can’t hide them, can I?”

She shakes her head, “I need to clean the cut.” I nod, giving her permission to do whatever.

“I texted Elliott,” Tate breaks the silence. “He’s tracking his phone and bank statements.” His thumbs hook into the silver chain that hangs around his neck.

“Says they get sloppy when they’re desperate.”

Abby finishes as the rest of us sit in silence. Hannah’s pacing mirrors her husband's from last night. “What do we do now?” I ask, feeling around my face, gauging what’s been done.

“We don’t let them win,” Tate says, stepping between the three of us. He surprises the hell out of me when his arms close around us all. “We go enjoy the game, then when we get home, we rain hellfire.”

Hmm, I like that idea.

The family area hums with excitement. Hannah says it’s way more exciting at home games, and I can’t wait to hold her to that. Seeing him play today, even with what happened, was such a cool experience. Getting to see him play the game he wanted to go pro in when he was nine, now killing it, scoring twice, all with a gorgeous smile on his face.

I’ve never wanted to be a mouthguard so bad. The way he chewed on it, half hanging out of his mouth as his tongue moved it around. I’m not sure it would have actually done its job had someone hit him in the mouth. But, I digress, that’s what I’m going as for Halloween next year.

I clock him the moment he emerges from the locker room, hair damp, neck still flushed from the game. He spots me instantly, his face immediately breaking into the most dazzling smile. And for a second, I forget all about my so-called godfather, the feel of the knife, and the threat he laid down.

That is, until he gets close enough to really see me, he goes still. He slowly removes my hat, eyes darting over the damage. The skin varying shades of red and pink, then add the butterfly bandaid Abby put on, and you’ve got, well, this.

“What the hell happened?” His voice cuts through the chatter, demanding enough that a few heads turn.

“It’s nothing,” I say, reaching for my hat to pull it back over my head. But he’s ripping it from my hand, tilting my head back with his thumb before I can move.

“Scarlett,” My name comes out low and tight, like a shimmering livewire. “Who did this to you?”

I step back, blood rushing through my ears, “Not here, Lucas.”