chapter 4

Maverick's POV:

The roar of the crowd washed over me like a familiar tide, their adoration as predictable as it was satisfying.

I hadn't heard cheers like this in a long time—not since before my mother's little European prison.

Now I was back, and they remembered what real hockey looked like.

"Jesus Christ, Maverick!" My teammate Derek slapped my shoulder hard enough to bruise. "You didn't say you were this fucking good! That was fucking insane!"

I shrugged off his enthusiasm, my eyes still tracking the retreating figure in the stands. Grace White. She was already heading for the exit, walking alone but still every inch the proud swan.

"Seriously, man," another teammate crowded in, still breathless from the game. "Six goals in twenty minutes? You trying to make the rest of us look bad?"

"You manage that fine on your own," I said flatly, pulling off my gloves.

The joke earned me more backslapping and laughter, but my attention remained divided.

Sebastian stood at the edge of our victory circle, his jaw clenched so tight I wondered if he'd crack a molar. His fingers gripped his stick like he wanted to snap it in half—or maybe use it on me.

"Something wrong, Thorne?" I asked, loud enough for our teammates to hear.

The laughter died instantly as everyone remembered the delicate politics at play.

Sebastian's face darkened at the use of his last name—his mother's name, the only one he was legally allowed to carry.

"Just wondering what made you crawl back from whatever hole your Mother had you hidden in."

The temperature around us seemed to drop several degrees. Our teammates moved into position behind us, bodies tense and ready for whatever was about to go down, sensing blood in the water.

I smiled, the expression all teeth and no warmth.

"This is my home, Sebastian. I come and go as I please."

I let my gaze drift over him dismissively, the same way one might look at something unfortunate stuck to their shoe. "Unlike some people, I don't need to justify my presence here. Birth certificates and trust funds tend to handle that for me."

His knuckles went white around the stick. "Careful, little brother. You've been gone so long—things aren't like they used to be."

I swept my gaze around the arena in a deliberately provocative circle, noting how the crowd that had been cheering for Sebastian just minutes ago had defected en masse the moment I'd won and pulled off my helmet.

"Is that so?" I raised an eyebrow at him, my tone dripping with mockery.

"Seems like the only thing you've managed to hold onto is your little popularity contest. And even that's crumbling." I paused, letting my implication sink in."Pathetic bastard."

"Shut your fucking mouth—"

"Or what? You'll go crying home to daddy like a child?" I snapped my fingers in mock realization. "Oh wait—if that was your trump card, you're out of luck. My mistake."

Sebastian lunged, but his teammates finally intervened, pulling him back before he could do something stupider than usual.

"Cool it, Thorne!" his friend grabbed his shoulders. "Can't you see he's baiting you? You throw a punch, and your career's over. That's exactly what he wants."

Sebastian's chest heaved as he fought for control, his eyes burning with hatred as they locked onto mine. "You'd better pray I don't find your weakness, Cross," he spat, his voice low and venomous.

Then he shoved off his friend's restraining hands and stalked away, spitting out words so filthy they'd make a whore blush.

I watched him storm off in impotent fury, satisfaction warming my chest better than any whiskey could.

"Mav!" A familiar voice called out from my back.

I turned to see my friends waiting—Kai Sterling lounging against the barrier with his signature easy smile, Dante Volkov looking bored and beautiful with his blond hair artfully tousled, and Sienna Blackwood in heels that brought her nearly to their height.

I gave my teammates a brief nod. "Catch you later."

They nodded without question and dispersed.

"Holy shit, Cross," Kai drawled as I approached, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "You've been back for what, three hours? And you're already peacocking around like you own the place. Half the female population is blowing up my phone asking for your number. Leave some for the rest of us mortals, would you?"

"Since when do you need my leftovers?" I shot back, pulling off my gloves. "Last I checked, you were all thoroughly occupied."

My gaze swept meaningfully over each of them. "Or has that changed while I was gone?"

The three of them exchanged a look—that particular brand of knowing smirk that spoke of secrets and obsessions they thought I didn't fully grasp.

"Come on," Sienna said, her blood-red lips curving. "We need to throw you a proper welcome back party. Can't have the Ice King returning without appropriate fanfare."

The Abyss Club hadn't changed—same velvet ropes, same desperate wannabes begging for entry, same VIP elevator that whisked us to the top floor where mortals feared to tread.

We settled into our usual booth.

"Bring up the '47 Château d'Yquem from my private collection," Sienna commanded the hovering manager. "We need to celebrate properly."

"Careful," I drawled, watching her gesture dramatically with her empty glass. "Won't your pet get jealous?"

Her expression soured instantly, the celebration dimming in her eyes. "Don't even mention him. He's been particularly... difficult lately."

She downed her drink in one savage motion. "Can you believe it? Me, Sienna Blackwood, chasing after some pretty boy for months, and he still thinks he can play hard to get."

"Months?" I raised an eyebrow. "You're slipping."

"Fuck off." She signaled for another bottle. "I've tried everything—gifts, threats, even being nice. Nothing works. It's like he's immune to me."

"Pursuing someone requires strategy, not just passion," Dante offered, swirling his whiskey with practiced elegance. "You can't just bulldoze your way into someone's heart."

Kai nearly choked on his drink.

"That's rich, coming from you. How many years have you been circling Natasha without making a real move? At least Sienna has the balls to be direct about what she wants."

Dante's expression darkened. "I made my move. We're together."

"Sure," Kai drawled. "If by 'together' you mean you watch her dance and pine from a respectful distance while she treats you like a particularly loyal patron."

"Better than having no one at all," Dante shot back. "At least I know what it feels like to want someone."

Kai took a long pull from his whiskey before responding. "This is easier. Want to fuck? Pick any girl who throws herself at me. They line up, I don't say no."

He shrugged, then turned to me. "Right, Mav? No complications, no feelings, no pathetic pining."