CHAPTER 3

The game was a warzone.

Adrian skated hard, muscles burning, but none of it mattered—not the roaring crowd, not the tension buzzing across the ice—because his focus was locked on one person.

Julian Cross.

Every time Adrian thought he’d finally shut him down, Julian slipped through his defenses, controlling the puck with obscene ease, like he was toying with him.

Like he knew exactly how to make Adrian snap.

Adrian clenched his jaw, breathing hard as he followed Julian’s movement. He wasn’t just skilled—he was a nightmare, a flawless combination of speed, precision, and arrogance.

And worst of all? He made it look effortless.

Julian weaved through two defenders, stick-handling like he had all the time in the world, before flicking the puck toward the net—top corner, right past the goalie.

The red light flashed. The crowd erupted.

Adrian’s blood boiled.

Julian turned, pulling off his helmet, sweaty hair falling into his eyes, and Adrian hated how good he looked standing there, soaking in the attention.

Then Julian’s gaze locked onto Adrian’s.

And that smirk—the one that had haunted Adrian since the moment they met—curled at the edge of his lips.

The message was clear: Try harder, Lambert.

Adrian’s grip on his stick tightened.

Fuck this.

—

Post-Game – The Unfinished Battle

The locker room was a mess of energy—teammates laughing, clapping each other on the back, but Adrian barely heard any of it.

He ripped off his gear with sharp, angry movements, Julian’s mocking expression burned into his mind.

He needed to cool off.

But then his phone buzzed.

Adrian exhaled hard and glanced at the screen—

MidnightViper posted a new photo.

His pulse kicked up.

He shouldn’t open it. He really shouldn’t.

But he did.

And his breath hitched.

The picture wasn’t explicit, but it might as well have been. A mouth—lips slightly parted, glossy, teasing.

The caption?

“Bet you can’t handle me.”

Adrian’s stomach clenched. Jesus.

But before he could even process it, something in the comment section made his heart stop.

A response.

From a verified account.

From Julian Cross.

It wasn’t anything overt. Just a simple, smug:

“Desperate much?”

Adrian’s blood turned to ice.

His pulse thundered as he stared at the screen, his brain refusing to process what this meant.

Julian knew.

Julian fucking knew.

His head snapped up, breath shallow. He needed to find him. Now.

—

The Confrontation – A Dangerous Game

Adrian found Julian near the visitor’s locker room, leaning casually against the wall, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a care in the world.

That smirk was already in place. Like he had been expecting this.

Adrian didn’t slow down. He grabbed Julian’s arm and shoved him against the wall.

Julian barely flinched, just lifted a brow. “Feisty tonight.”

Adrian’s heart slammed against his ribs. He should let go. He should walk away.

But he didn’t.

“You think this is funny?” Adrian’s voice was low, sharp. “You’ve been watching me?”

Julian tilted his head, eyes dark with amusement. “I watch a lot of things.”

Adrian’s breath hitched. The way Julian said it—smooth, knowing, like a taunt wrapped in velvet—

He hated how it made something coil tight in his stomach.

Julian exhaled a soft laugh. “You like the attention. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

Adrian’s jaw clenched so hard it ached. “Shut the fuck up.”

Julian smirked. “Make me.”

The air crackled.

Adrian knew Julian was baiting him, but he was already caught.

His fingers twitched. His pulse pounded.

And then—

Julian moved.

It was so fast—one second Adrian had him pinned, the next, Julian had flipped their positions.

Now it was Adrian against the wall.

Adrian sucked in a breath, thrown off balance for the first time in forever.

Julian leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “If you want a game, Lambert, let’s make it interesting.”

Adrian’s heart slammed. “What the hell does that mean?”

Julian’s lips curled. Slow. Sinister.

“A bet.”

Adrian stilled.

Julian’s eyes gleamed. Dark. Dangerous. “Winner gets full control. Loser submits.”

Adrian’s stomach dropped.

The words hit low, deep, twisting something inside him he wasn’t ready to name.

Julian knew exactly what he was doing.

And Adrian hated that it was working.

He swallowed hard. “You’re insane.”

Julian’s smirk didn’t waver. “Are you scared?”

Adrian’s teeth clenched. Fuck him.

He should walk away. He should end this.

But instead—

His pride wouldn’t let him.

His obsession wouldn’t let him.

Adrian exhaled sharply, meeting Julian’s gaze head-on.

“You’re on.”

Julian grinned. “Good.”

And just like that, the bet was sealed.

Julian stepped back, releasing him, but the heat of his touch still burned against Adrian’s skin.

Then, with a lazy stretch, Julian turned toward the exit. “There’s an afterparty tonight. You should come.”

Adrian didn’t move. His heart was still racing, his mind still spinning.

Julian glanced over his shoulder, voice dropping to a taunting whisper.

“Try not to chicken out before we even get started.”

And then he was gone.

Adrian let out a slow breath, hands clenching into fists.

He should leave this alone. He should let Julian have his little mind games.

But he was already reaching for his jacket.

Already chasing after him.

Already stepping into a game that could break him.