Chapter 5

Muse.

The grand arena is a lot bigger than I expected and completely packed with students and natives who are eagerly waiting to see the team that’ll win tonight’s game. The crowd is divided into Talon’s and Black Titans’ fans putting on their jerseys, foam fingers, beanies, hoodies, and most importantly, waving their banners.

Just like Marina is doing. She’s a VIP, so, of course, she got us the front position in the bleachers while waving her banner.

Her excitement worsens my guilt. I have this insane urge to bolt and not watch her brother die, because that poison will definitely end his life. That I am sure.

However, remembering that I’m not allowed to act contrary to Newman’s orders, I remain seated. Well, with a giant lump in my throat.

“Hey, come on, wave with me,” She urges, letting me hold the other side of the banner.

Marina seriously wants to indoctrinate me to become a loyal fan of the Titans. Or rather her brother whose autograph/mark I’m bearing.

Although I’m hiding that bizarre tattoo with my hair, hoping no one sees it. Sheesh, I don’t want anything tying me to him.

“If my brother wins tonight’s game, I’m sure thirty percent of Liskaheights/Talon’s fans would want to be initiated into the Islanders family. Just watch.” Marina drops that slice of information that got me curious.

Initiation? Really?

“Wait, people get initiated?” I ask carefully, not to provoke her suspicions but to make her give me more information.

And she does. Marina gives me the ‘did you really do research about Norska Island or Blackridge before applying for transfer’ look.

“You haven’t heard?” She chirps with brows hiked. “Norska is heavy on loyalty to each of the families. If you get initiated into a particular family, you stay loyal to them until…I don’t know, however long you live on earth?”

Interesting.

“So you’re saying that if I get initiated into Liskaheights, I’m not allowed to have anything to do with the other families?”

I deliberately avoid using the Ravenholms as an example because there are chances that it might raise Marina’s suspicion.

“Yeah. That’s what it means.”

“That’s…weird.” I hum, fleeting my eyes over the crowd that is loyal to two of the three rival families that own the island. Marina bobs her head, giving me the ‘you’ll get used to it’ look. “Does that mean everyone here is initiated? Everyone on the island?”

“Of course not. Look, there really is a choice to remain on the neutral side. There are plenty of locals who aren’t initiated. It’s only those who seek privileged access to certain things on the island, especially students, who choose to join. And, of course, there’s the protection that comes with it.”

Now I understand better. Newman wants Ravenholms as the top among the families because it equally means having more loyal people on his side that he can use and do his bidding, and not to protect them. Because, let’s be honest, I don’t think Newman has the capacity to look out for others except for himself.

Well, considering the circumstances surrounding my being here in the Island and Blackridge, I guess I’m Ravenholm’s initiatee.

Ugh, that leaves a sour taste on my tongue. I give Marina a cool smile before focusing on the rink. The game’s about to start.

“Hey, let me pass.” A petite red-haired girl dressed in Jules’s Jersey knocks into my shoulder as she forces herself through the aisle to sit in our row. Close to Thea.

Who is she and why does she act like she owns the world?

Marina scowls, rolling her eyes at the girl who completely ignores us. She’s up, waving the Black Titans’ foam finger.

“Who is she?” I whisper, throwing a few glances at her.

“My father’s aide’s daughter. I’m guessing she has shared a bed with my brother. That explains her recent obsession with watching his games.” Another scowl. “Pamela hated him before because, I quote, ‘he’s a snobbish motherfucker,’ except she doesn’t know that she’s the one with issues.”

I steal another quick look at Pamela before turning to see the players skating into the rink from the tunnel.

The crowd goes crazy as they pour into the rink. The Black Titans’ red-and-white jerseys stand in stark contrast to the Talons’ blue-and-white.

“Jules!!!!” Marina hollers, cupping a hand over her mouth.

Despite the roar filling the arena, Jules somehow catches his sister’s voice, and he turns toward us. My eyes interlock with his. For a heartbeat too long, the noise around us disappears, leaving only the impossible pull of his gaze and the frantic pounding of my own heart.

He looks majestic in the ice, but that’s not why my heart forgets how to beat; it’s the devouring look he’s giving me.

Why is he staring at me? Of all people?

He can do better, I tell myself, yet here I am, drowning in his gaze that somehow alternates between glowing amber and warm brown.

The change is so subtle it’s almost imperceptible. Maybe I’m imagining it. Or maybe I’m only noticing because I’m drowning in them.

That makes chills roughen my skin, and I hold my breath.

When he turns his gaze to his sister, my heart finally manages to beat. And it’s a fast tempo this time.

Jules waves at Marina, who jumps in excitement. Then he looks at me one last time and does the ‘I’m watching you’ thingy.

“My brother knows you?” Marina chirps with shock and excitement underlying her words.

“Uh…I had a run-in with him earlier.”

“Woah, that’s…impressive. Jules knows everyone but only acknowledges a few.” She says, looking from me to him.

“It doesn’t mean anything, trust me. I’m just an assistant to Titans’ equipment manager.”

“I’d like to believe that, but I know Jules. I’m guessing you’ve made it to his special book.”

“Is that supposed to make me happy?”

She turns to me and shrugs. “Maybe it should or not. Because it depends on the book you made it to.”

I want to ask her what she means, but Marina is back to watching the players skate the rink, cheering their fans as the music blasts.

I don’t want to let her words eat me out. I’m not in any of Jules’s books, whichever one he is.

The minute the players gather on the center ice for the faceoff, I hold my breath. Any minute now, things can go wrong.

That’s if he drank the water I poisoned.

What if he didn’t drink it? That means my plans will fail.

A different kind of worry settles over me. If he didn’t drink the water, that’s very bad news for me.

Ugh. It’s bad news either way. If he drank the poisoned water, I’d have blood on my hands. If he didn’t, I’d have to face the people who sent me. There was never a version of this that ended well.

Jules faces the Talons’ center, his stick poised to win the faceoff before carrying the puck into the offensive zone.

Tension charges through the air as the crowd now holds their breath. Like I do.

I clasp my hands together, waiting.

The referee drops the puck.

The instant it kisses the ice, Jules wins the faceoff cleanly. In the same heartbeat, he’s in motion, exploding through the neutral zone at a blistering speed that leaves my jaw hanging open.

The sheer velocity of his skating is staggering. For a split second, it catches the Talons off guard, their reactions just a fraction too slow to stop him.

The moment he realizes an opponent is about to drive him into the boards, Jules snaps a pass to his right winger and veers away from the incoming hit.

The winger carries the puck up the ice and dishes it to a teammate, who immediately feeds it back to Jules. He circles behind the Talons’ net, emerges on the other side, and snaps a clean shot into the top corner before the goalie can react.

The horn blares and the crowd goes wild as the scoreboard updates. Marina hollers her brother’s name, waving the banner while the players swarm around Jules in a burst of joy.

I shoot to my feet instinctively, not because he scored, but because I’m mesmerized by his superhuman speed.

Is that even possible?

I spend the rest of the first period watching Jules own the ice with breathtaking speed and precision. Every move is deliberate, from the way he slips past defenders to the crushing body checks that send opponents crashing into the boards so he can regain possession of the puck. It’s ruthless, and it leaves me utterly speechless.

By the end of the first period, the Black Titans had scored 2:0.

It happens again in the second period.

Jules doesn’t come off for a line change.

While his teammates rotate in and out, he remains on the ice, looking nowhere near exhausted. It makes me wonder if he’s on steroids, because there’s no way anyone should be able to play at this pace without burning out.

“Hey, can I sit with you?” A male voice reverberates in my ears. When I look up, my eyes widen.

“Scott?”

The guy I met earlier. He’s putting on a cream-colored cable knit sweater, hands tucked into his faded blue jeans.

He looks fresh and simple. Scott is the kind of guy I’d have loved to date if I wasn’t ‘boy sober.’

Full lips, striking blue eyes, and tall. Everything about him screams ‘my type.’ Plus he’s chivalrous. I haven’t forgotten how he helped me earlier.

He doesn’t have the magnetic charm and effortless grace a certain someone possesses. The kind that keeps me on edge and makes me question my own morals.

Speaking of certain someone, my eyes drift back to the rink just as I smilingly let Scott sit beside me, and I see Jules, paused on the side of the rink, his stick slacked in his grip, as he glares in our direction.

Black storm rages in his eyes, and he heaves hard. Trust me, I’d have been scared if I had known the reason he seemed on the verge of snapping.

“I didn’t know you’d attend,” Scott says, leaning into me with a smile.

“I’m here to give my roomie some moral support.”

He chortles, turning his gaze to the rink.

Even now, Jules hasn’t moved from his position.

“What’s wrong with him?” Marina grouses.

“Don’t know,” I shrug.

Well, the Black Titan’s coach steps in, calling Jules’s attention. Not that it worked.

A heartbeat later, Jules skates nonchalantly toward the coach on the bench and whispers something to him.

The man looks in our direction, and my brows curl.

What’s happening?

Whatever the coach and Jules discussed seems to loosen his tightened shoulders. He snags the water bottle, knocks his head back, and gulps.

God, he’s drinking the water now. Nervous shivers kick in, and I stare wide-eyed, terrified of what’s about to happen.

He resumes playing while sweat dampens my armpits and top.

I was so focused on him that I didn’t realize when an event staff member came and ushered Scott out of the seat.

I don’t know why, and I’m not about to find out now.

Just as the period is about to finish, it happens.

Jules loses balance in his skate and drops haphazardly on the ice, his body convulsing violently, causing the referee to blow the whistle.

Time slows; the murmur and gasps of everyone in the arena fade as I watch him battling for breath, to stay conscious as confusion washes over everyone’s faces.

“What’s happening?” Marina hoots, her breath becoming rapid as she bounces to her feet, her eyes focused on her brother.

She darts out of the aisle as the medical team hauls Jules’s ‘lifeless’ body out of the rink with a burst of speed.

I did it. I killed him.

While the staff tries to restore order and see to the continuation of the game to the last period, I slip off the bleachers and hurriedly make my way out of the arena.

Before I hit the back, my eyes drift through the crowd, and I see him– Newman. Disguised.

Our gaze locks and something close to victory shines in his depths.

With that, I run out of the arena as guilt knocks into me mercilessly, stealing my breath.

The minute I step outside with images of what just happened in the arena running through my mind, I slump into the asphalt and let out a wail.

What have I done?

I swore never to do something as horrible as this again, no matter what! I swore!