Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
That’s why we both got the same label.
Traitor.
I straighten, gripping the edge of the counter. “I have nowhere else to go.” I meet his gaze, willing him to see the truth. “I don’t want to put my aunt in danger. And you—” I gesture to the house. “You live in a goddamn fortress.”
Penn exhales sharply, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Mila…”
“Let me stay… just for a little while,” I press. “Please. Until we can figure this out. It’s happening to you too, isn’t it?”
He’s quiet for so long I think he’s going to tell me to leave. He doesn’t admit or deny if he’s getting the same threats I am.
But then, with a slow, reluctant sigh, he mutters, “Fine.”
Relief floods through me, weakening my knees.
“But just until we figure this out,” he warns. “This isn’t permanent.”
I nod quickly. “Of course.”
Penn jerks his chin toward the garage. “Let’s get your bags and pull your car into one of the bays. Then I’ll show you to a guest room.”
I don’t argue.
Because for the first time in weeks, I don’t feel entirely alone.
CHAPTER 5
Penn
The soft hum of the refrigerator fills the kitchen, the only sound breaking the heavy silence of the early-morning hour. I managed a few hours of sleep, but I was too wired by Mila’s arrival, the things I’d learned and my invitation for her to stay in my home. The house feels different with someone else in it. It’s been a long time since I’ve shared my space with anyone—since back in my junior hockey days—and even though Mila is only one other person in ten thousand square feet of living space, it feels suffocating.
There’s no sense in bemoaning it now, though. She asked to stay and I agreed, so I’ll stand by it. That’s the way I’m built. Apparently, I’m also built with a bit of a sentimental conscience, because once I heard that Mila’s family had disowned her and taken Peter’s side, I knew I couldn’t let her flounder alone. That’s what kept me awake the most… the way Mila had looked last night standing at my gate, half-frozen, desperate and terrified.
I scrub a hand through my hair, clicking my laptop open on the kitchen island, and sink onto a high-back stool. Steam curls from the coffee mug beside me, the bitterness of it settling on my tongue as I take a slow sip.
And now? Now I need information, because there’s power within it.
I pull up my browser and after a few spot-on searches, a handful of articles pop up. I scan them quickly, zeroing in on what I need and confirming what Mila told me. Peter Brennan is to be released from the Stillwater Correctional Facility on January 20.
Five days from now.
Knots form in my shoulders from the tension and I roll my neck to find some relief. I lean back in my stool, clicking through to another search tab. If Peter’s about to be out in the world again, I need to know where the rest of them are.
Jace Holloway.
I search his name next, scrolling through the results. He’s been out of prison for over a year, but there’s barely anything recent on him. No active social media accounts, no news mentions. Just a few old photos—one from when he played for the Wraiths, so full of youth and optimism. Another showing the exact opposite—mugshot, eyes vacant, expression empty.
No updates on where he is now, which means he could be anywhere. For the life of me, I can’t remember where he was from originally.
I click to another tab and pull up Ryan DeLuca.
He wasn’t criminally charged, but his hockey career was obliterated. The last article I find on him is almost eight years old: Former Muskogee Wraiths Captain Ryan DeLuca Cut from Minor League Roster, Struggles to Regain Standing.
I don’t have an ounce of regret that his life went to shit. He deserved it.
Next up—Colton Briggs.
The search yields the same thing. No criminal charges, but no career either. His name is attached to a few college hockey articles before he disappeared off the radar.
And then there’s Jacob McLendon. I already know where he is and we’ve had our run-ins throughout our years in the professional league. He’s enjoying a successful career with the Winnipeg Rebels and because we’re in different conferences, our games have been limited to a few a year. I’ve always been on the receiving end of hateful looks and hard hits on the ice from the asshole, but he’s never struck as dirty as he did last month when the Rebels came here to play. He illegally cross-checked me in the back, a move that could have broken my neck if I wasn’t adequately braced. As it was, it rattled the fuck out of me and King—as my defenseman—ended up dropping the gloves against the guy and drew blood in retribution.