"There's my boy."

That eerie voice cuts through the arena like a blade.

Vincent Romano strides onto the ice with the confidence of a man who owns everything he surveys and in that case, he does.

Gray comb-over, expensive suit, and eyes that have seen more blood than I could imagine. The man who murdered my father is ten feet away, and my bones feel brittle.

Marco, standing beside me, seems to anchor me. I feel his tension not fear, but something sharper. Irritation, maybe. As if Vincent’s presence is an invasion he refuses to tolerate.

"Vincent," Marco’s voice is even, controlled. "This had better be important."

"All of this I take seriously," Vincent says, his eyes locking onto mine. "And you are the popular Dr. Martins."

Popular? The word makes my skin crawl. How does he know about me?

"Sofia Martins, M.D.," I reply, surprised that my voice doesn’t tremble.

"Pretty thing," Vincent circles me like a predator inspecting prey. "Roberto’s niece, isn’t she?"

"Yes."

"You hear a lot about a fellow when he has relatives like mine."

Marco shifts subtly beside me, caution radiating from him. Don’t speak so much. Don’t reveal too much.

"I will do my best to do my job well," I answered cautiously.

"Good. Standards of excellence run deep here," Vincent continues, stopping close enough for his cheap cologne to overpower the senses. "The Romano family demands excellence… from everyone."

I nod, swallowing hard.

"Do you?" His gaze narrows. "Because already, on your first day, we’ve had…issues." He gestures to Jake, who’s slowly waking on the ice.

"That wasn’t—" I start.

Marco’s hand grips my elbow. Just the touch, and I shiver. Words die on my tongue.

"Jake got sassy," Marco says casually. "He learned not to."

Vincent laughs, a sound that makes my stomach turn. "Still my hotheaded youth. Perhaps we need to discuss acceptable levels of force during practice."

"What have you ever practiced about?" I mutter.

His threat, even in casual words, makes my skin prickle. But Marco looks bored, unimpressed.

"Now that our new doctor seems to have very strong views about day-to-day life," Vincent says, eyes returning to mine. "Do you, Doctor?"

"I have fixed opinions about saving humans life," I answered firmly.

Marco’s grip on my elbow tightens. Not a threat, but a warning. And I ignore it. My father is dead. This man ruined my family and I will not compromise my ethics for amusement.

"Astonishing," Vincent replies, a smile on his lips that doesn’t reach his eyes. "Sometimes saving life requires…unconventional means."

"I don’t understand."

"Your son gets hurt in bigger games, some way or another," he continues. "You’ll find a way to get him back on the ice."

The threat lingers in the air. I glance at Marco, searching for agreement. Instead, I see something like regret.

"She’s new," Marco murmurs. "Just let her get used to it."

"We have little time," Vincent says, rummaging through his phone, glancing at me sharply. "Season begins in two weeks. I hope everything will go according to plan."

Not a question.

"All right," I fib.

"Thanks," he says, then walks away. Before disappearing completely, he pauses. "And Doctor? Welcome to the family."

The weight of that word presses against me. Once Vincent is gone, the silence between Marco and me is almost electric.

"Your father is—" I begin.

"Caution," Marco interrupts, low and menacing. "Be careful what you say."

"He’s a monster," he whisper.

Marco stiffens, fists clenching. He presses me lightly against the planks again, reminding me that control is his.

"You have no idea," he says, voice rough. "You know nothing of my family…of me."

"Then tell me," I demand. "Tell me why you let him bully you. Why don't you fight back."

Something primal flickers across his face. "Do you think I like this?"

"You’re just like him," I whisper.

Marco’s expression darkens, a shadow crossing his golden-brown eyes. "That’s what you think?"

"Don’t you?"

He steps closer, heat radiating off his body, and I can sense it even through the icy air. His breath brushes mine.

"Don’t I, Doctor? I like the way your pulse races when I get near."

"That’s fear," I insist.

"No," he murmurs. "Something entirely different."

"Then why haven’t I repelled you?"

"Because I won’t," I breathe. Standing close, against all reason, I feel something dangerous and thrilling.

"I despise you," I whisper.

"I know." His thumb traces the wall beside my face, close enough to feel but not touch. "And yet I cannot erase you."

There’s a vulnerability in his voice, a fracture beneath the predator.

"That is insane."

"Tell me something I don’t know."

We stand there, frozen. Sharing breath, suspended in a moment that feels both impossibly long and painfully brief.

"I have to see Jake," I finally manage.

"He’s fine," Marco says, voice soft but edged with warning. "Likely a concussion, but fine."

"You can’t know that without—"

"I know," he interrupts. "I’ve done worse to him before. I know because I’m a good hurter of people but not a killer."

"Then why am I here?"

"A method of showing you the kind of man you’re dealing with."

"And that kind is…?"

"The kind who shatters things," he murmurs. "The kind you have to step away from."

My phone buzzes again. I hesitate, then see the name: Marcus.

Ex-boyfriend.

I hang up immediately, stomach dropping. But another ring follows.

"Boyfriend?" Marco’s brow furrows.

"Ex," I mutter. "Recent."

Marco’s fists tighten, eyes darkening. "What’s he after?"

Another message lights up my screen.

I left Jenna. I choose you. Always.

I shiver. The universe of my life feels unsteady.

"Problem solved," Marco says, taking the phone from me before I can intervene.

"You had no right—"

"You’re welcome," he interrupts, inching closer. My back presses against the wall again. His presence is suffocating, intoxicating. "I don’t need him bothering you."

"Why are you angry?" I whisper.

"Because," he breathes, muscles twitching as if battling with himself. "Because for some unknown reason… the thought of anyone ever hurting you makes me want to break things."

The intensity in his voice leaves me breathless. He knows more about my heart than I do myself.

And then my phone buzzes once more.

Sofia, I know where you are. We’re not done yet.

I glance up at Marco. His eyes, stormy and unreadable, lock on mine.

And in that instant, I realize: whatever comes next, I am no longer just a doctor in this arena. I am a player in a game I didn’t choose, a game ruled by blood, desire, and a man who could destroy me with a glance.

And nothing will ever be the same again.