Chapter 5 The Warning

Brennan POV

The locker room smelled like ice and old tape. I sat on the bench and pulled off my skate guard when Marcus walked in holding a folded newspaper.

He held it out. “Read the headline.”

I looked at it. Kessler’s Penalty Box Problem: Is the Captain’s Temper Costing the Division?

“It’s a scrimmage article,” I said. “Brex came into my crease.”

“Victor Calder called the board president at four this morning,” Marcus said. “He wants you replaced. He says your history makes you a danger to his daughter.”

I tightened my laces. “The board gave me the mandate. I control her schedule for four weeks.”

“He’s using sponsor money. He told the owner he’ll pull the corporate box package by Friday if you don’t clear her early.”

“I don’t clear her until the ankle can take weight.”

Marcus pointed at the captain’s patch on my chest. “One more problem and I take the C. Clear?”

“Crystal. Tell Victor to get better lawyers.”

I drove to the performance center before the sun was fully up. My phone buzzed with a blocked number.

The message was short.

Drop the Calder girl or lose your C.

I stared at the screen, remembering how the warnings had started the same way six years ago. Now they are starting again.

I deleted it and went inside.

Nessa sat on a plyo box near the squat rack. Her compression boot was on, but she wasn’t stretching. Her hands were buried in the front pocket of her hoodie, and dark circles showed under her eyes.

“You’re early, Calder,” I said.

She jumped. Her hand came out of the pocket holding a small metal key. She pushed it back in fast.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. Her voice was quieter than usual.

I set a kettlebell down. “You look like hell.”

She lifted her chin. “Are we training today or are you just going to insult me?”

The pride was back, but it sounded thin.

I unbuckled the top of her boot. She didn’t fight me this time. She just sat there while cold air hit the swollen skin.

I dropped to one knee and supported her heel. She flinched.

“Pain?” I asked.

“No.”

“Don’t lie to your trainer.” I pressed lightly on the tendon. Her pulse jumped under my thumb. “It throbbed all night, didn’t it?”

“It feels like needles,” she said.

I started wrapping it with blue tape. “Did your father call you last night?”

Her eyes snapped to mine. “Why?”

“You hold your breath every time a phone rings. I’ve noticed.”

She pulled her leg back a little. “You don’t know my habits.”

I finished the wrap. “Stand up. Leave the crutches.”

“I need them.”

“No. You carry your own weight in this room.”

She glared at me, then said, “I went to his office last night.”

The room went quiet.

“What?”

“I went to his private study. After he left for the airport.”

I crossed my arms. “Find anything?”

“The safe was still there. I found a folder with your name on it.”

I clenched my jaw. “And?”

She reached into her pocket and held out a yellow sticky note.

I took it.

The handwriting was sharp and pressed hard into the paper.

My breath stopped for a second.

Vale. Adrian Vale—the man who gave me a place to stay when the scholarship disappeared and stood beside me at the appeal, telling the press I had been framed.

For six years, I had hated Victor Calder for destroying my career.

I had never imagined the proof would come from his daughter.

“Who is Hale?” she asked.

“Lab code,” I said, and shoved the note into my pocket.

“You’re lying. Your eyes changed.”

“Focus on the rehab, Calder.”

“He framed you,” she said. Her voice cracked a little. “My father paid to erase the lab receipt. That’s his handwriting.”

I looked at her. The anger I’d carried for three days felt heavier now. She had gone into his house at night and taken proof.

“He didn’t just frame me, Nessa,” I said, using her first name. “He took orders.”

She blinked. “What does that mean?”

“Your father pays people to hide things. He doesn’t run the testing lab. Someone higher up ordered the file destroyed.”

I pointed at the balance board. “Get on.”

She stepped onto it with her good foot. The board wobbled hard. I moved behind her and put my hands on her hips to steady her.

Her body went stiff, and her breathing turned quick and shallow.

“Relax,” I said. “If you tense up, you fall.”

“Your hands are cold,” she whispered.

“Then work harder.” I shifted her weight. My palms felt the sharp line of her hipbones through the thin shirt. She didn’t pull away. Her head leaned back until her hair brushed my chest.

Neither of us moved for a few seconds.

“He’s going to stop my funding,” she said, looking at our reflection in the mirror. “If I don’t go back to his clinic, he pulls the sponsors.”

“Let him,” I said. “He doesn’t own your blades.”

She turned her head, bringing her face close to mine.

“He warned me last night. He said you were using me to dig up old files.”

“I don’t need to use you.” I stepped around to face her and pulled a small black burner phone from my jacket. I put it in her hand and closed her fingers around it.

“What’s this?”

“Clean line. No one can track it. If anyone comes near your apartment or touches your skate guards, press two. It calls me directly.”

“Brennan—”

“Rule number two,” I said. “We don’t trust anyone inside the building. Not your father. Not the board. Not the doctors.”

She held the phone against her chest. “And you?”

“You’re under my watch now. No one touches your blades while you’re training here.”

My phone buzzed again in my pocket—another blocked number. I ignored it and kept my eyes on hers.

The war was already here.