Corbe

t the kitchen island of my suburban Boston apartment, awkwardly

y cardigan hiding the jagged self-harm scars on my wris

g," a calm young voice ca

ged on the leather sofa, a modified black laptop resti

, and a pair of sharp gray-blue eyes identical to Chadwick's

gg onto a plate, and walked over t

ou hacking into this

ian their final payments, and wiping our IP footprints while I'm at i

of his nose-every single day, I thanked whatever strength h

ulian Corbett walked in carrying two heavy grocery

adquarters," Julian said, setting the bags on the counter and lowerin

ened around the

o one in the North American sports world

keys without looking

des route through three servers in Icel

ther glove over my crippled right hand, and took Tobias in my

way and merged into traffic,

from the speakers. "NHL superstar and Justice family heir Chadwick Jus

he steering wheel, knuckles w

ntire rooftop restaurant downtown tonight, wher

dashboard's power button, plun

ide, Tobias turned his sharp eyes toward me an

l for a second. Is it becaus

smile, I kept my

in here. Le

working-class neighborhood where nobody had ever paid to watch a hockey game. I had checked the leagu

or rink across the river, where dozens of kids

ed Tobias lace up his skates and glide onto

rked alone in the corner on sharp crossovers and outside-ed

er slid open, and several tall men in black athletic hoodies walked in laughing-the

handsome Latino face of Darrell Reyes-Chadwick's al

my coat collar, I slipped behind two bur

k-then froze on Tobias mid-stop in the c

hose eyes..." Darrell's muttering was loud enough fo

d wildly at the screen, then dialed a cal

to the ice rink right now