Chapter 3 My Tormentor

Mael

My uncle must be playing a fucking prank on me right now. The hell is he dragging a long forgotten champion back here and to be my partner?

He's lost his damn mind. “Forget about it Uncle, tell Dad and Mom I will skate solo.”

“You know damn well pairs skaters don't go solo, Mael,” Uncle Adriane says, his voice flat and unbothered.

I ignore him, slamming my hands into the pockets of my jacket as I turn back to the glass window, glaring down at the frozen white surface below. My jaw aches from clenching it so hard. 

Fuck! I am pissed off beyond belief.

My phone in my pocket has been buzzing with notifications all morning, every single one of them a reminder of the absolute disaster my life turned into three weeks ago. Katie was driving home from some fucking party with her friends when a drunk idiot plowed straight into her car. Ended up with a shattered patella, multiple leg fractures, torn ligaments, and some other shit around the knee.

She needs multiple surgeries and extensive rehabilitation. Her career is dead in the water.

And right when we were supposed to be preparing for the national championship and then we can look the Olympics right in the face. I’ve worked my entire fucking life for this chance, and I’m not letting Katie’s shattered knee drag my career into the grave with hers. I need a replacement, and I need one fast.

I’ll accept literally anyone. Any girl with two working legs who can execute a triple throw but never the one behind me right now.

I turn around slowly, letting my eyes drag over Bonnie Bennett.

Fuck, she’s actually standing here in a pair of faded jeans and an oversized sweater that hides her frame, but she isn't ugly. Far from it. Her face is sharp and delicate, and her hair is thrown up into this messy bun that somehow makes her look soft, effortless, and stupidly pretty. It makes my chest tighten with a sudden, vicious wave of hatred.

I fucking despise her. I despise everything she represents.

Growing up on the competitive circuit, Bonnie Bennett and Evan Mason were the bane of my fucking existence. My parents were relentless, driving me to physical and mental exhaustion every single day because of them. Every time I placed second, my dad would drag me through hell, screaming at me that I wasn't working hard enough while they were on top. To me, it looked like Bonnie and Evan achieved perfection effortlessly while I had to bleed on the ice just to keep up with their scores. Every harsh training session, every bruise, and every piece of pressure my family dumped on my shoulders was because of her.

And now, after five years of vanishing into thin air, she has the nerve to show up in my rink?

I take a step toward her, deliberately letting my gaze slide down her body with disdain.

“What the hell are you looking at, Laurent?” Bonnie snaps, her brown eyes burning holes right through me.

“I’m looking at a benchwarmer who’s way out of her depth,” My voice drip with cold arrogance as I take another step forward, crowding her space. “You’ve been out of the game for five years, Bennett. You really think you can just waltz back in here and keep up with my speed? Look at you. You’re totally out of shape, how much did you eat in five freaking years?"

“I am not out of shape, you arrogant asshole!” she fires back, her fists clenching so hard her knuckles turn pale. “And I’m ten times the skater you’ll ever be, with or without a break!”

“Is that right?” I laugh, a harsh, humorless sound that bounces off the glass walls. “Then why did you end up running away to work at some dead-end diner while I was out winning titles? You were a ghost. And now my uncle expects me to waste my time training someone who’s gained so much weight I’d probably tear a muscle just trying to get her off the ground.”

“You complete jerk!” Bonnie’s face flushes dark red, rage radiating off her in waves. “As if I ever wanted to be anywhere near you! I wouldn’t trust you to catch me if my life depended on it!”

“Mael, that is enough!” Uncle Adriane’s voice cracks through the room like a whip. “Both of you, shut your mouths right now.”

Daniel steps in, placing a hand on Bonnie’s shoulder to keep her back, but she doesn't stop glaring at me. Her chest is heaving, her chin tilted up like she’s trying so damn hard not to back down.

“I’m not doing it, Coach,” Bonnie says, turning her head toward Daniel, her voice tight with furious emotion. “I refuse to do this. He hates me, and I can’t stand him.”

“Good, because the feeling is entirely fucking mutual,” I bark out, crossing my arms over my chest and staring her down. “Uncle, I need a partner for Nationals, but I’m not desperate enough to take her. Get me literally anyone else. Put an ad out. Call another agency. I’ll accept anyone with two feet, just not Bonnie Bennett.”

Uncle Adriane doesn't even flinch. He just sits back against the edge of the desk, looking at me with dead, unreadable eyes. “There is no anyone else, Mael. Bennett is the only qualified female pair skater in the entire region who can handle the mandatory technical requirements on short notice. You either skate with her, or you forfeit your entry.”

The room goes dead silent.

My jaw tightens so hard a sharp pain shoots up into my temple. I glare at my uncle, my heart hammering against my ribs in boiling frustration. Forfeit Nationals? After the hell I went through to get here? 

I turn my head and look at Bonnie. She’s standing there holding onto her silver necklace, her eyes darting between Daniel and my uncle. I can see the gears turning in her head. She swallows hard, taking a deep, shuddering breath before she looks back up at my uncle.

“I’ll do it,” Bonnie says, her voice suddenly steady, even though her eyes are still burning with hatred when she looks at me. “I accept the contract.”

I stare at her like she’s lost her mind. She actually thinks this is going to work?

“Well, congratulations, Bennett,” I sneer, grabbing my gym bag off the chair and slinging it over my shoulder. “You accept. But I don't. I’m going home, and I’m going to wait until my uncle gets his head out of his ass and finds me a real option. Someone who actually belongs on my ice.”

I turn on my heel and start walking toward the double doors, ready to kick them open and walk the hell out of this facility.

“Take one more step toward that door, Mael,” Uncle Adriane’s voice cuts through the room, sharp, heavy, and lethal. “And I pull your funding, lock you out of this rink, and call your father to tell him you voluntarily forfeited Nationals because you were too cowardly to skate.”

My feet lock to the floor. What? He’ll go that length instead of finding another person?

I freeze right in my tracks, my fingers digging so hard into the leather strap of my bag that the stitching strains.