Page 14 of Second Sin

I scream, I think. Or maybe it’s just a gasp. It feels like something inside me tears open.

Then they’re gone. Someone shouts down the block—a voice, sharp and urgent—and the two men bolt into the night like smoke.

I lie there. The sidewalk freezing beneath me. My coat twisted, my knee scraped raw, breath fogging in and out in staccato bursts.

A stranger drops to their knees beside me. Hands hover but don’t touch.

“Ma’am? Are you okay? Should I call the police?”

But I can’t answer.

All I can do is stare at my hand.

At the empty place where the ring used to be.

The last piece of Ethan. The last piece of who I was.

Gone.

CHAPTER 6

SEBASTIAN

The rink always clears too fast after practice.

Out there, everything makes sense. My body knows what to do. Hit. Skate. Breathe. There’s clarity in motion. In noise. In the burn in my legs and the ice under my blades. I don’t have to think—I justam.

But off the ice?

Everything blurs.

The focus. The purpose. The sense of who I am.

Thoughts crowd in. Noise that used to be background turns sharp. And the things I’ve buried—the shit I’ve locked down—start to claw their way back up.

Kane falls in beside me in the tunnel, shaking out his shoulder. “Slade’s getting faster,” he says. “Still dumb as hell, but faster.”

“Needs to be,” I grunt. “He’s managed to piss off half the league with that mouth.”

Kane snorts. “Including you.”

I grunt in agreement.

We keep walking, and the adrenaline starts to drain. My legs are wrecked. Chest still tight from the last sprint. It’s the good kind of ache—the kind that settles into your bones and quietseverything else. No thoughts. No noise. Just that clean, earned exhaustion.

For a second, I feel like I can breathe.

And then I see her.

Olivia’s near the staff exit, her back to me. Arms wrapped around herself—not defensive, just...still.Toostill. She’s talking to Coach, who’s watching her closely, his expression tight. Concerned. Like he knows something I don’t.

He squeezes her shoulder before she turns and starts toward the doors. Her gaze stays down, shoulders missing that usual edge of confidence. No sharp lines. No steady calm. Just something...off.

Her steps falter—like she feels me watching. She glances over her shoulder.

That’s when I see her face.

Fuck.

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