Chapter 6 Interruption

Mael

The blonde’s hands dig into my back as she moves on top of me, her moans bouncing off the wall. I don’t even remember her name. Courtney? Chloe? It doesn’t matter.

On the nightstand, my phone lights up again, vibrating continuously as it slides an inch across the surface. It's definitely my uncle blowing up my fucking phone, but to hell with it. I grip the girl's waist, pulling her down as she throws her head back, completely ignoring the noise. If I want to turn my brain off with a random girl for an afternoon, the rink can wait. Bonnie Bennett can fucking wait.

The bedroom door shudders as a heavy boot slams against the paneling, cracking the frame under the raw impact.

“Mael! Open this fucking door right now or I swear to God I’m kicking it off the hinges!”

The girl on top of me freezes, her eyes wide with total panic as she frantically drags the top sheet over her chest. “What the fuck?! Who the hell is that?!”

I swear under my breath, my chest heaving as I sit up. Uncle Adriane is a hothead. If I give him three seconds, he’ll actually put his boot straight through the wood.

“Stay put,” I mutter.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, bare and still half-erect, and stride across the floor, yanking the door open.

Uncle Adriane stands in the hall, his face flushed red, his track jacket half-unzipped. His eyes drop straight down to my groin, then sweep past my shoulder to the girl cowering under the covers on my bed.

He doesn't blink. He just shoves past me, invading my space like a runaway train.

“Are you out of your absolute fucking mind?!” Uncle Adriane roars, his voice echoing into the hallway. “I’ve been calling your phone for two hours! Daniel’s been calling you! Where the fuck have you been?!”

I lean back against the edge of my desk, crossing my bare arms and giving him a deadpan stare. “Clearly, I’ve been busy.”

“Busy?!” Uncle Adriane steps right into my face, his finger hovering an inch from my nose. “Bonnie has been standing on the ice for two straight hours waiting for you! The whole coaching staff is standing around! And you’re in here screwing around while your future burns to the ground?!”

Behind us, the girl squeaks, shrinking further into the pillows.

I don't flinch. I let out a low, arrogant laugh, rolling my shoulders as I look him in the eye. “Then tell her to keep waiting. Or better yet, send her back to her restaurant. I told you Uncle, I’m not skating with a washed-up ghost. I don't care how long she stands out there. I’m not doing it.”

Uncle Adriane’s jaw tightens until the muscle in his cheek twitches violently. His drops dangerously low. “You think you have a say here, Mael?”

“I’m the only one that can bag the Olympic contract,” I snap, my eyes narrowing into slits.

“Not if you’re suspended, and stop deluding yourself, boy.”

The room goes dead silent.

“What did you just say?” I hiss.

“You heard me,” Uncle Adriane says flatly, his eyes cold and unreadable. “You get your act straight right now, or I will suspend you completely until you do.”

I sneer, stepping right into his space until our chests are inches apart. “Why the hell would you do that to your Nephew? The national qualifiers are in months. You suspend me, I miss the qualifiers.”

“Try me,” Uncle Adriane fires back without a millisecond of hesitation. “I will bench you for the entire season and watch your career rot before I let you ruin this program with your arrogant bullshit. Stay in this bed if you want. But if you’re not at that rink in ten minutes, you are off the team. Permanently.”

We lock eyes. The air in the room is thick, heavy, and hostile. I stare into my uncle’s face, looking for a bluff, a crack in his posture, anything to give him away.

There is nothing. He means every single word.

If I miss the qualifiers, it’s over. My family will tear me apart. The press will eat me alive. Everything I’ve bled for on the ice since I was four years old vanishes because of a girl who always wants to be perfect. If I get benched now, I lose my ice time, my standing, and the only thing keeping my name at the top of the roster. He has me backed into a corner, and we both know it.

A pulse of pure rage thumps behind my eyes. I break eye contact first, turning toward the bed.

“Get out,” I bark.

The girl blinks, stunned. “What?”

“I said get the fuck out!”

She scrambles out of bed, grabbing her dress and heels off the floor in a frantic bundle. She doesn't even bother putting them on, she wraps her coat around herself and sprints past Uncle Adriane, tearing out the front door into the hallway.

I turn to my bathroom to wash up, then my closet, pulling open the drawers and ripping out black training pants, a compression shirt, and my heavy jacket. I pull them on fast, refusing to give Uncle Adriane the satisfaction of looking at him while I dress. My skin feels like it's on fire, every pulse point thrumming with sheer venom.

“Ten minutes, Mael,” Uncle Adriane says coldly from the doorway. “If your skates aren't on by the time I pull into the lot, the suspension stands.”

He turns on his heel and walks out, leaving the front door hanging open.

I grab my gear bag off the chair, yank the zipper closed, and snatch my skate guards off the desk. My hands are shaking from a rage so hot it burns through my chest.

She did this.

That pathetic little ghost of a girl is sitting at my rink, making my uncle back me into a corner. She thinks she can crawl out of whatever hole she’s been hiding in for five years and push me around? She thinks she can show up and wreck my routine, my discipline, and my position?

I shove my phone into my pocket, grab my keys, and storm out of the apartm

ent right behind my uncle, heading to the rink as my brows draw a hard line.