Page 6 of Unhinged Obsession

I’m going to beat my own brother’s skull against the ice, and I’m sure that’s not the legacy my father envisioned me leaving behind.

Noah slaps Ben on the shoulder. “That’s rich coming from you, bud. I came in at three last night, and you scared the shit out of me pacing back and forth in front of Paris’s door.”

Benjamin’s jaw tightens. Ah yes, he has one button too, and it just so happens to be our stepsister. “Shut up.”

Noah grins. “Just saying. What were you doing outside her bedroom in the wee hours of the morning?”

Ben stares at him, completely deadpan, indicating that he won’t be elaborating on anything he does with Paris. He skates off, only breaking eye contact with Noah when a player from the other team bumps into him.

Noah cackles for exactly three seconds before pushing off and skating toward Ben, probably to heckle him a little more. Good. I hope they get into it so badly that Coach kicks all three of us off the ice. It won’t be the first or last time, but that’s one thing about the Moretti triplets. We might fight each other from time to time, but no matter what, we’re always going to have each other’s backs.

Ben never shows attachment to anyone, not even Noah and me. He acknowledges us more than anyone else, but there’s something not right, something switched off in his brain. We get it, and it doesn’t hurt our feelings because we know the exact moment it happened. He found our mother dead when he was a kid. Something in him went cold that day and never thawed. He’s callous, detached, completely indifferent to the world around him. People don’t matter. Feelings don’t matter. Nothing matters.

Until Paris Hastings click-clacked into our life with those stupid pink Barbie heels she wears all the damn time. I hear her fucking shoes on the hardwood in my dreams sometimes, and I wake up wanting to snap her ankles. But I never would, because she’s the only thing that seems to put a spark in Ben’s eyes.

She’s the biggest fucking brat on the planet. Spoiled rotten, dramatic, and fully convinced the universe revolves around her. She torments Noah and me like it’s her full-time job, the annoying little sister she was always meant to be, I suppose. I don’t know what our father sees in her mother, but if I could travel back in time and drop-kick him away from their first meeting, it would definitely be high on my list.

But I will say that with Ben, Paris is different.

She’s softer, more careful. Like, even she understands there’s something broken in him that nobody else could fix. She’s protective of him in a way that doesn’t make any sense to me because of the side of her I see. I’d even go as far as to say she’s nurturing. She’s more mature around him than she is with anyone else, like maybe the vapid act she puts on isn’t soul-deep.

I don’t care, because I take every chance I get to make sure she knows that to me, she’ll always be a bratty little sister.

I’m skating, holding my stick like I have every intention of trying to get the puck and score, but my eyes are on Bradford, who is glaring at me from across the rink. I don’t know what crawled in his ear and died, but he’s fucking asking me to beat him in front of all of his friends. We’re supposed to be on the same team in multiple ways. Hockey and legacies of the Black Crown society, but I’ve always hated him. The feeling is mutual, I’m sure, because he’s had a thing for Blair for as long as I can remember. Even if she didn’t return the crush, it didn’t matter to me. She’s my best friend… my only friend if you don’t count my two brothers and the blonde spawn of Satan who lives with us now.

That’s why when Blair left so abruptly… especially after what happened this summer… it felt like she was ripping my heart out of my chest. We all agreed to never speak of that night again, but when I found out she left, I felt abandoned by the only person who has ever truly mattered to me.

But Ben is right, I need to fucking watch my temper. The Choosing Ceremony for the Black Crown Society is coming up, and I’ve got the fucking Elders watching me like hawks, waiting for any excuse to decide to fuck me over because of my attitude. My last name is the only thing that’s prevented that so far.

As I skate toward center ice, the puck rims hard around the boards and dies near the blue line. Instinct takes over. I angle my stick, ready to intercept, but Noah beats me to it, collecting the puck cleanly before sending a crisp pass across the neutral zone.

I huff because that wouldn’t have happened if my mind wasn’t otherwise occupied by the memory of pretty hazel eyes. If Blair is really back on campus, she owes me an explanation.

I’ve spent every single day searching for her in some way. Not just on campus, either. I exhausted every resource my family name could buy, called in favors, chased leads that went nowhere. I even reached out to Caiden Grey—the one man with a reputation for finding anyone and anything, no matter how hard they’ve tried to disappear. Now I owe him a favor, which I’m sure is going to be a pain in the ass when he comes around to collect.

A whistle shrieks, bringing me out of my thoughts that only one girl could ever consume. The puck has changed possession somewhere behind me. Coach is going to lose his mind if he notices how checked out I am. Noah falls into step beside me just as Bradford heads our way, circling like the little vulture he is.

“We almost made it an entire game without somebody acting like a complete psycho, but the way Harris is eyeing us right now, I don’t see that lasting much longer,” Noah says, and he’s almost giddy. Dad always said Noah only plays hockey for the fights, and that’s probably the only thing the two of us will ever agree on.

“You know, Blair will make a good Chosen One. Whoever The Society pairs her with is a lucky bastard,” Bradford says smugly, clearly having as much interest in this game as I do. “She’s a smart girl, isn’t she? But she knows her place. Did you teach her anything? Or will I have to do that myself?”

I nearly take his head off when I swing on him, but Ben seems to appear out of nowhere and catches the back of my jersey before I can make Bradford bleed.

“I’ll fucking murder you if you ever speak about her again,” I grunt out the words, but Bradford just laughs. I know he’s just trying to get under my skin, but I don’t give a shit. I want to feel his bones breaking in my hands before I combust in anger.

“Aw, Benny, let him throw his little tantrum. His girl is in the stands; let him put on a show for her,” Bradford taunts, and I fucking fall for it. I’d do anything for a glimpse of her. Even if he’s lying just to wind me up.

I slowly glance over my shoulder, scanning the stands as the hockey game goes on around us. Noah skates off, taking the puck from someone on the other team, but Ben stays close by. I don’t see Blair. I’d recognize that long, wavy brown hair and those hazel eyes anywhere—instantly. I see them every time I close my eyes.

“Thought you would’ve gotten all that aggression out over the summer.” Bradford has one of those faces that always looks punchable, but tonight he’s putting in extra effort.

Benjamin lets his head fall back toward the rafters for a second because he doesn’t feel like trying to keep me from murdering Bradford right now. I hear him utter the words, “For fuck’s sake.” I’m more focused on Bradford and what he said about this past summer specifically than I’m worried about my brother having an existential crisis. What does this motherfucker know about last summer? We all made a pact. Every single person who was there that night has something to lose if what we did becomes public knowledge. None of us would have been dumb enough to tell anyone, so how does he know something happened?

The problem is that he’s never going to blurt it out. Not willingly. Not with half the school packed into the arena watching us. He’s enjoying this too much, enjoying the way my patience is wearing thinner by the second, like he’s waiting to see exactly how far he can push me before I finally snap.

“You really don’t know where Blair has been?” Bradford asks, widening his eyes with fake innocence.

My jaw clenches. "Spit it out."