Across the divide, separate and electric, Team Canada moved in formation. And at their center, number twenty-four, wearing a cage and a face you'd find on a billboard.

Her gaze found Alex like it had been pulled by a wire.

Elena's jaw set. Her eyes traced the tattoos peeking above Alex's collar, the silver rings glinting on her fingers, the hair that curled just past her ears—neither a woman's nor a man's, but hers.

Neither of them moved. The tunnel lights hummed. The crowd's roar became a distant, muffled heartbeat.