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Unlocking the door, I throw my duffle bag on the back seat.

“Good. Because I don’t have time for this shit either.”

I close the door harder than necessary and turn towards him, arms crossed over my chest. “Why are you here then?”

“We both want one thing.”

“Which would be...?”

He better not say Amelia because I’m not past snapping his neck.

“Being on the Wolfs and winning this championship.” I tilt my head to the side to let him know I’m listening.

He is right, after all. It doesn’t matter that we don’t like each other; our goal is the same. I’ve seen him play. I know he’s good, more than good, actually. But so am I. Together—and with the rest of the team—we could be freaking amazing, a force to be reckoned with.

“So what do you suggest?”

“A truce.” His gray eye gleam and his lips curl in a half smile. “On the ice. I don’t want to piss off the coach and get kicked out. This season is important for both of us if we want to continue playing at the next level.”

“I’m not giving you the center position.”

Sanders chuckles. “Then it’s a good thing I’m better right wing anyway.”

“We’ll see about that.”

I turn on the balls of my feet, open the door, and slide inside.

“But that’s only on the ice, King.” There is an edge to his voice. “What I said earlier still stands. You make Lia cry again, and you’ll answer to me.”

My hands grip the steering wheel tightly with the sound of her name coming out of his mouth.

“What is she to you?”

“What is she to you, is a better question.”

We stare at each other, neither of us backing down. How does this guy always know what to do and say to unnerve me?

Our stare down lasts a few more seconds. Then he smirks, puts his helmet on and throws his leg over the bike. In a blink of an eye, he’s gone, leaving only dust in the air behind him.

I close the door. My eyes fall shut, and I will myself to breathe in through the nose and breathe out through the mouth, slowly releasing the grip on the steering wheel. When I’m sure I have my temper under control I start the car.

The drive home is slow and quiet. Usually, I like to turn on the music so loud it can be heard outside, but not tonight. Tonight I just want to get back home and crash in bed.

I’m about to pass the park and turn onto my street when a shadow catches my eye. I stop the car and turn to take a better look. In the shadow of the street lamp, there are a couple of kids. They are gathered around something.

I leave the car running, parked on the side of the street. As I move closer to them I can hear them laughing. A soft, barely audible whine comes from the same direction.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you are doing?”

They turn when they hear me shout from the distance. The boys—they can’t have more than eleven or twelve years—look at me approaching with wide eyes. They exchange hurried glances and start to run off.

I run after them. For such short things they sure are fast. I give up on searching for them when they get lost between the trees, bushes, and shadows.

“What’s wrong with people?” I mutter to myself.

I start going back to the car but stop still when I see a creature lying on the floor where boys were before. Slowly, I move closer. The whines grow stronger as I near.

The dog’s head lifts and light, big blue eyes stare at me.

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