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Why? Because Noor will never have another good thing happen to her ever again. We haven’t been back to the cliffs since Theo found us. The reminder that he can find us anywhere was enough to scare us off.

Taking a deep, controlled breath, I settle my PR mask over my features as I follow my coach to the media room. They just want to talk to me about the game, ask me how I felt when Draven was hit and I couldn’t defend him off the ice, etc.

I know Ci doesn’t want to put a label on what we have, but people can tell how close we are. The media is respectful when I tell them we’ve played together since we were kids and are a family. They don’t need to know anything beyond that.

The ride to the hotel is filled with quiet conversations, because we’re all eager to relax. The coach has asked us all not to go out in Portland tonight to avoid any fighting, because both Oilers fans and their players will be out for blood. Sometimes, we need to be told what to do.

It’s really no different from my high school days, except the stakes are higher and I’m getting paid to do something I love. I also no longer have to deal with my father. He’s tried to reach out over the years to threaten to pull me back into the fold, but I finally changed my number.

Good riddance.

My shoulders loosen as soon as I open the hotel room, and Draven and Ciaran follow me inside. Coach gets us a second room for appearances only, but I think he knows we tend to bunk together. Whoever ends up rooming with Ci will get their room to themselves and will be left wondering where he stayed.

At the end of the day, we’re adults. Coach only knows we room together to keep from having to fine us for not being where we’re supposed to be. If he says we're not to leave the hotel, then we’ll be listening to him.

Just a little differently than anyone else will.

“Strip,” I grunt, pulling off my tie. I watch as Ciaran quickly undresses, his eyes tight. “How bad is it?”

“I can smell her,” he sighs. “It’s not because I wear her scent on my wrists either.”

Obsession even after death is insane. He followed her through the halls, watched her while she played Asmodeus, and agonized about all the things he could have been missing. I wanted to fuck her, he wanted to own her.

And Draven? He wanted to cut her and feed on her fear. Our relationship with Noor wasn’t healthy, but it’s something we crave. We’ve chosen to remain loyal only to each other but our life in the public eye won’t allow us to enjoy our kinks with anyone else.

I also don’t think any of us want to.

“Do you want to bleed and get fucked?” I ask, watching as Draven pulls out the silk rope from his bag.

“I want to forget her,” Ci groans. “I can’t get fucked up on alcohol, so yes, I want to be fucked until I pass out. Choke me out and keep fucking me.”

Looks like I’ll be napping on the bus on the way home because there’s no rest for the wicked.

Ciaran’s back is to me as he widens his legs to face the headboard and I wince as I see the ink that I know covers Liliana’s knife work. The three of us got mural back tattoos to allow us to be able to shower in the locker rooms without questions being lobbed at us.

Each one is different, but they all feature a beautiful, half naked woman with dark curly hair. I’m not ashamed to say we had the tattoo artist sketch what Noor looked like by memory. Her hair is long and curls around her body in the tattoo, and it’s done in dark shading.

The differences between our tattoos lie in the items within it. Ciaran has coding numbers hidden in the background and a snake hissing at the woman on his back. She glares back at him, a reminder that she would only accept so much of our bullshit before she began fighting back.

I admire how beautiful the piece is, and the way the bottom of the tattoo has flames that hide the word Murderer. We had to pay the tattoo artist extra to never tell anyone about this. The money also helped buy his silence. He wanted to call the cops because he worried we’d actually murdered someone.

We didn’t directly, but we may as well have. Alexa has been in prison for the past four years, and if she’s lucky, she may be able to be paroled at some point for good behavior.

Draven ties knots up Ci’s arms as he holds them behind his back. We’ve learned a lot since we discovered that he’s been spiraling, and one of them is that Shibari helps to quiet the demons Ciaran has in his mind. I don’t know how long it’ll continue to work, but we’ll pivot once we need to cross that bridge.

The red rope looks pretty against his skin, and his hair is bright blue as a ‘fuck you’ to his family. The torture he feels is only visible when he drops his own mask, and then it’s there plain as day. He’s been playing for the Canyons for the last year, and we have a place together in Denver.

After we found out about his breakdown, we moved Ci in with us and he commuted. We could afford two cars with our pooled money and it worked out much better. Life together is a mix of constantly pivoting.

We all have our shit, Ci’s is just a little louder.

His head drops back as Draven continues to tie and knot the rope around his waist, ass, and thighs. He'll be extra tight in this position, but it looks like he’s going to need the bite of pain. Maybe I’ll use my spit and his blood instead of lube as I push my way in.

I take my tie and a knife from my bag with me as I climb naked onto the bed, I wrap it around his eyes and then his throat as a reminder that he's chained to us. We will always be there for him and won’t let him fall.

“Forget for a while,” I whisper in his ear.

“You don’t smell vanilla?” he rasps, shuddering.