FORBIDDEN ON THE ICE

"What did you just say?" Reyna asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You heard me," her father said, still facing the window, not turning around.

"Say it again," Reyna said. "Say it to my face."

Her father turned slowly, and for the first time in years, Reyna saw something in his eyes that wasn't anger. It was grief, old and heavy, the kind that never fully leaves a person.

"Your mother," he said, "was in love with an Ashwood before she was ever with me."

Reyna felt the floor tilt under her. "That's not possible. You two were mates. I've seen the mark."

"We were mates," her father said. "That part was real. But before the bond settled, before either of us understood what was happening, she loved someone else first. Silas Ashwood. Kade's uncle."

"Why have you never told me this?" Reyna asked.

"Because it doesn't end the way you want it to," her father said.

Reyna sat down slowly on the arm of the couch, her legs suddenly unwilling to hold her up. "Tell me anyway."

Her father exhaled, long and tired, like he had been carrying the story so long that letting it out finally felt like setting down something heavy.

"Silas and your mother grew up on opposite sides of the same rivalry we're living now," he said. "Different packs, different rules, the same impossible pull between them. They tried to keep it secret. For almost a year, they did."

"What happened?" Reyna asked.

"The packs found out," her father said. "And when a Castellan and an Ashwood cross the line, the packs don't ask questions at first. There was a fight. Territory dispute, they called it later, but everyone who was there knew what it really was." He paused. "Silas was killed defending her."

Reyna's chest went tight. "And Mom?"

"She never recovered from it," her father said. "Not really. She let herself bond with me years later, and she loved me, I believe that, but there was always a piece of her that stayed with him. And every year on the day it happened, she used to go quiet, and she'd sit by the window, and she wouldn't talk to anyone until it passed."

"Is that how she died?" Reyna asked, though some part of her already feared the answer.

Her father's jaw tightened. "The Ashwoods never let it go. Neither did we. The feud kept going, quieter, but it never stopped. Fifteen years ago, there was another clash. Border dispute, same as before. Your mother went to try to stop it, because she thought if anyone could talk both sides down, it was her." He stopped, and his voice broke on the next words. "She didn't come back."

Reyna felt tears burn hot behind her eyes. "You're telling me the Ashwoods killed her."

"I'm telling you," her father said, "that every time a Castellan and an Ashwood get close, someone ends up dead. That's the pattern. That's fifteen years, Reyna. That's your whole life. And now you're standing in my living room smelling like Kade Ashwood's hands, and I am asking you, as your father, to walk away from this before it becomes another name on that list."

Reyna wiped her eyes fast, angry at herself for crying. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't choose to feel anything for him."

"I know," her father said, gentler now. "The pull doesn't ask permission. I know that better than anyone. But feeling it and following it are two different choices, and only one of them keeps you alive."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Reyna asked. "Play hockey against him every season, stand next to him on camera, and just pretend my whole body isn't screaming at me every time he's in the room?"

"Yes," her father said simply. "That is exactly what I'm asking you to do."

"That's not fair," Reyna said.

"No," her father agreed. "It isn't. Nothing about this family has ever been fair. But I had already buried the woman I loved because of this feud. I am not burying my daughter either."

Reyna stood, pacing now, her mind spinning too fast to stay still. "Does Kade know any of this?"

"I don't know what the Ashwoods have told him," her father said. "Knowing Elias, probably nothing. He's always preferred keeping his son in the dark and his hands clean."

"So he might not even understand why this is dangerous," Reyna said.

"Then you make sure he never has a reason to find out," her father said. "Stay away from him, Reyna. On the ice, off the ice, everywhere. I mean it."

Reyna wanted to argue. She wanted to tell him that the pull didn't work like a light switch, that she couldn't just decide to stop feeling something that lived under her skin like a second heartbeat. But looking at her father's face, worn down by fifteen years of grief he had never once let her see, she couldn't make herself say any of it.

"Okay," she said quietly. "I'll stay away from him."

Her father nodded, relief loosening some of the tension in his shoulders. "Thank you."

Reyna picked up her bag, ready to head to the guest room, when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced down, and her heart stopped.

A text. From a number she hadn't saved, but somehow already knew.

The message read: Got your number from the league roster. Hope that's not too much of a crime. Meet me tomorrow before practice. I think we need to talk about what your dad's not telling you.