Just My Hockey Roommate’s Filthy Desires by Esther Pen novel Chapter 308

Chapter 308

BRANDON’S POV NDON’S

The rain had turned the cracked asphalt of the old industrial district into a slick, reflective black mirror.

My convoy moved in absolute silence through the rusted maze of abandoned shipping yards near the riverbanks

Dominic sat in the front passenger seat of the lead armored SUV, his tablet casting a faint, rhythmic blue glow across his tense face as he monitored our encrypted frequency feeds.

Marcus was behind the wheel, his hands relaxed on the leather steering wheel, though his eyes never stopped sweeping the dark alleys and high rooftops.

“The tip off came from an old informant deep within the Eastern European network, boss,” Dominic said, turning his head slightly to address me in the back seat.

“He claims a mid–tier broker tied directly to Arthur Vance’s remaining offshore shell companies is hiding out in Sector 4. They’re trying to liquidate small–arms manifests and move physical bearer bonds before the federal freeze locks down their international accounts completely.”

“We secure the broker, extract his hard ledger, and hand him over to federal authorities,” I said coldly, adjusting the platinum cufflinks on my suit jacket.

“I want every last remnant of the Vance network completely dismantled before the end of the week. Miss Aria and Amelia deserve a life where we aren’t constantly sweeping corners for shadows.”

“Understood, boss,” Marcus muttered, slowing the heavy vehicle as we approached a massive, corrugated iron warehouse at the dead end of the alleyway.

The security team in the trailing SUV moved seamlessly into tactical formation, securing the outer perimeter of the alley.

Marcus and Dominic drew their silenced sidearms, stepping out into the cold night air to flank me. I followed them, my heavy wool coat dampening the biting chill, my own customized sidearm resting comfortably against my ribs in its leather shoulder holster.

We crossed the threshold of the warehouse through a side access door. The air inside smelled heavily of motor oil, stagnant water, and decaying wood.

“Perimeter clear,” Dominic whispered into his throat mic. “No active thermal signatures on the main floor.”

Something felt off.

My tactical instincts, sharpened over years of surviving war zones and syndicate purges across Europe, flared sharply against my chest. The floor was too quiet. The position was far too open. The side access doors had been left unbolted from the inside without a single guard posted.

It was a setup.

“Pull back,” I ordered sharply, my voice slicing through the hollow space. “Dominic, Marcus, fall back to the vehicles right

now.”

Before Marcus could even take two paces back toward the iron door, a loud, metallic clatter echoed overhead. Massive steel security shutters slammed down over every entrance and window with deafening, hydraulic force, locking us inside the dark floor.

The overhead halogen lights flickered violently, buzzing to life one by one in a blinding chain reaction, flooding the concrete floor with stark white glare.

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B

1

My Hockey Roommate’s Filthy Desires

“Boss‘ Behind the support pillars!” Marcus shouted, drawing his weapon up instantly as four tactical operatives in unmarked black gear stepped out from the shadows, their rifles trained squarely on our small team.

Hold your fire, a smooth, raspy voice echoed over the warehouse loudspeaker system.

The operatives did not shoot. They stood like stone statues, maintaining a lethal defensive crossfire. From the shadows pear the far stairwell, a tall figure stepped out into the light.

He wore a dark tactical coat, his gait slow, deliberate, and entirely unhurried. His hair was streaked with gray a jagged, pale surgical scar trailing from his left ear all the way down beneath his collar.

I froze.

The gun in my hand suddenly felt impossibly heavy. My breath caught in my throat, the cold air burning my lungs as time seemed to warp and stop entirely.

“No…” Marcus whispered, his voice trembling slightly as his rifle barrel dipped by a fraction of an inch. “That’s… thats impossible.”

The man stopped ten feet away from us. His eyes, which were cold, hollow, and hauntingly familiar, met mine.

“It’s been a long time, Don,” Gabriel rasped, a faint, bitter smile touching his scarred lips. “You look remarkably well for a man who left his brothers to burn in the mud.”

“Gabriel…” The name tore from my throat like a ragged whisper.

A wave of suffocating, overwhelming shock crashed over me, followed instantly by a sharp, agonizing stab of guilt that nearly brought me to my knees.

For six long years, the image of that burning ridge in Sarajevo had haunted my darkest nights. I had seen the mortar shells rain down on his position.

I had lived with the crushing weight of believing I had left my closest brother–in–arms, the man who had taken bullets for me, to bleed out in a cold, lonely trench while I pulled the rest of our unit out.

“You’re alive, I breathed, taking an unsteady step forward, completely ignoring the four rifle scopes trained directly at my chest. “Gabriel… we searched for three days. The valley was completely destroyed. I thought-”

“You thought I was dead,” Gabriel interrupted softly, his voice dripping with icy venom underneath its calm exterior. “And it was so much easier for your conscience to leave it that way, wasn’t it, boss? A tragic sacrifice to justify your quiet, comfortable

retirement.

“Gabriel, listen to me,” Dominic interjected, his voice tight with defensive panic. “The boss tried to drop team units back into the valley. The command structure collapsed-”

“Silence, Dominic, Gabriel snapped, his dark eyes flashing with a brief, terrifying rage before settling back into a calm. deadly glare aimed straight at me. “I didn’t engineer this trap to listen to excuses from a ghost squad.”

Gabriel took two steps sideways, pacing like a predator studying a trapped mark. He looked at my tailored suit, my pristine coat, and the absence of the dark, ruthless aura that used to define me.

“Look at you,” Gabriel taunted, letting out a low, mockingly soft laugh. “The feared Phantom Don. The most lethal commander in the syndicate, reduced to playing corporate CEO and family man. You traded your throne, your crew, and your legacy… all for a woman. All for Aria.”

My jaw tightened at the sound of her name on his lips, but the crushing guilt inside me kept my hands still.

“I left that life behind, Gabriel,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging in my chest. “I built something clean because the blood on my hands was drowning me. I am sorry for what happened in Sarajevo. God knows I am sorry. I would give

10:16 Tue, Sep 15

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