Page 107 of Ice Queen

“Yeah, in college. He was apparently pretty good, but I wouldn’t know. He got injured before I got there, and never wanted to talk about it after that.”

He smacks his stick hard enough against the ground that it snaps in half. “So this is what, some ploy to ruin everyone else’s career because his was cut short? But why me? You know what, I don’t care. I have a bone to pick with Savannah.”

“Savannah?”

“Savannah Collins. The owner's daughter,” Abby adds from her spot in the corner next to her husband.

The dots connect, the pieces become clear. I let out a laugh that borders on insanity. “Of course.”

“You know her?” Markus asks.

I sigh. “Yeah.”

But now isn’t the time to get into all of that.

“Please, Markus. Play like you don’t know any different. I know that’s hard, but take your anger out on the ice. Win, and we’ll handle this together later.”

He gives me a tight nod, working overtime against the mouthguard that’s hanging out one side of it.

“We gotta get you back to the ice, Sammy,” Abby says, stepping behind me to pull the door open.

“I have to go, but I promise, I’ll try.” He places a quick kiss on my lips before turning to Tate. “Keep her safe, yeah?”

Tate gives him a single nod before Markus disappears with Abby down the hallway.

When the door closes behind them, my fingers find the sleeve of the jersey I’m wearing, my eyes lifting to meet Tate’s questioning ones. “Do you know if Savannah is here?”

“Should be in the box with her dad.”

“Can you take me?”

He pushes off the chair, rounding the desk and pulling the door open. “Come on.”

No one is coming to save you. Save yourself. My brain starts to chant. Over and over, each time it strengthens my resolve. I feel my shoulders roll back, my jaw tighten as I follow behind him.

We walk through the back hallway in silence, anger rolling through me in icy waves, barely contained as my hands flex and ball into fists at my sides. The urge to make a scene in front of everyone so there’s no mistake who the bad guy is is so strong right now.

The level of scrutiny the team would be under, though, would be a heavy burden for everyone on their payroll to carry. So instead, I’ll take a page from Wyatt’s book. I’ll move in the shadows, and I’ll hit him where it hurts. His image.

The elevator door opens, and we quickly step inside. Tate presses the button for the floor we’re heading to, then watches me with assessing eyes as the doors close. My gaze drops to the floor, my teeth digging into my bottom lip.

“This isn’t your fault, you know.” Tate crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall opposite me.

I sigh, aggressively tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, but still not looking up. “It’s hard to think it’d be anyone else’s.”

“You can’t control crazy exes, Kaitlyn.” The tension in his voice causes my eyes to snap up to meet his. “Mine almost killed me,” he says. “I can’t confidently say I’d be here if it weren’t for Abby saving my ass.”

“I could have stopped this if I hadn’t fallen asleep, Tate. If I had watched a single game, I could have done something months ago.” I let my head fall back against the cold metal of the elevator wall as it slowly climbs to the suite level.

The door opens at what feels like a snail’s pace. I make it two steps before his voice freezes me in my spot, just outside the door. “You’re doing what you can now. I know it doesn’t feel like enough, but it is. It’s nice to see he’s got someone in his corner.”

Looking at him over my shoulder, I give him half a smile. “He has a whole team in his corner, Tate.”

“His team isn’t you.”

I huff out a laugh, my head shaking as he shows me the way to the suit. “No, they aren’t. Which is why I have to fix this, not only for him, but for them, too.”

He nods once before he pulls the doors of the owner’s box open. Cecilia squeals when she sees me, and Tate freezes.