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My name is Brielle Hayes, and I had one rule: don't fall for the captain. Luka Mercer destroyed my brother's hockey career two years ago. When I became the Ravens' new sports therapist, I swore I'd stay professional. Cold. Untouchable. But one night in a Boston hotel room changed everything. ""This doesn't have to mean anything. We can pretend it never happened."" Except we couldn't pretend away the pregnancy. Or the anonymous threats that started the moment I saw those two pink lines. ""I know what you did in Boston. Stay away from him. Stay quiet. Or you lose everything."" Someone was watching. Someone knew about our secret meetings in his truck, our stolen moments in dark corners. Someone had photos, timestamps, evidence of every rule we broke. My scholarship hung by a thread. His captaincy was on the line. Our baby's future depended on keeping our secret buried. Then the sabotage began. Damaged equipment that could end his career. My confidential files accessed in the dead of night. Threatening messages sent while I slept, proving our stalker never rested. ""Tick tock, Brielle. How long before everyone knows?"" Luka swore we'd find out who was hunting us. That we'd expose them before they destroyed everything we were building. But the truth was closer than either of us imagined. Hiding behind a familiar smile. Masquerading as loyalty while orchestrating our downfall. ""The hit wasn't an accident. #27 set it up."" When I finally uncovered the evidence buried in old game footage and anonymous forum posts, when I traced every threat back to its source, the betrayal nearly broke us both. Because the person trying to destroy our future? He'd been there all along, watching, waiting, pretending to be Luka's closest friend. But why?

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