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I dropped and put my head in my hands so they didn’t see me fall apart. I couldn’t cry here. Now.

Miles’s hand came down on my shoulder and squeezed. “Alright, let’s get you somewhere to collect yourself for ten minutes, Cam.”

I couldn’t talk, not really. “I uh . . . just . . .” I got to my feet. “Who er . . . Who did this?”

Dr. Varga sighed. “Typically, we wouldn’t be able to disclose that information, but as the source of the new clarifying information was his son, it seems pertinent that you know.”

I still didn’t understand what she was saying. “Who targeted me?”

“Goro Hasegawa.”

Ren’s father was behind all of this?

I should have been surprised, but didn’t feel it. I nodded. It made sense. Horrible sense. Goro wanted me gone so his son had a clear shot at the podium. Right. But this targeted attack had begun before I’d danced yesterday. Goro hadn’t even seen what I could do and he’d been trying to push me out of the competition . . . because of Ren. Because I was a distraction, probably. Or something like that. A bad influence, maybe.

“Okay . . .” I had to be going into shock, because I should have been feeling more than I did, but it all just washed off.

Miles steered me toward the door.

“You should know, Mr. Navarro,” Varga added. “It was Ren Hasegawa who brought this information to light regarding his father’s misconduct and his own.”

That’s how they knew I’d lied a second time. Ren had told them everything, via the Dame, told them he’d been drunk, told them his father had been pulling their strings this whole time. He’d saved me. He’d saved my ability to dance, saved my chance at the Games.

I nodded, and made it out into the corridor before collapsing against the wall. Miles had his arm around me and was mumbling something about being pleased I’d been spared. I was so done, so tired, so heavy, so lost . . . I’d been told it was over, only to be told a few minutes after that everything was fine and I could go back to the way things had been that morning.

God, I was a mess.

“I need some air . . .”

I might also have been about to throw up.

Miles stayed at my side, and we made it outside the building into the cold. The frigid air felt good, and grounded me back in my bones. I leaned against the wall and breathed.

“You must have nine lives, kid,” Miles laughed. “I’ve never seen anything like that in my whole career.”

I laughed too. It was all I could do. “I don’t even know what just happened in there.”

“You’re still in. And now you need to focus on the free dance, even with everything you’ve been through. The competition won’t wait. Do you think you can do that? Can you compete tomorrow?”

“Yeah . . .” I nodded. I was damn well competing. After all this, they’d have to drag me out to stop me. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good. Take an hour. Get your head back in the game. The team will be waiting.” He squeezed my shoulder again and left me there, making calls to cancel Craig the hockey player probably. Zoe had dodged a bullet there.

I had to call Ren.

He needed to know what had just happened, and I had to thank him. He’d said he’d deal with it, and he had. Could have done with being a bit earlier, but hey, I wasn’t going to argue. His father needed a punch to the fucking face, but as that would also likely get me thrown out of the Olympic Village, I was not going to be the one to throw that punch anytime soon.

I dialed Ren’s number with trembling fingers.

Ren’s phone rang, then went to voicemail. “So uh . . . hey, Ren . . . I don’t know all of what you said but . . . thank you. I think you just saved my Games . . . and uh . . . your dad’s a bastard, but I guess you already know that. So yeah . . . hey, uh . . . call me back, alright? Where are you? I know we’re not supposed to, but I could really do with seeing you. So yeah . . . bye.”

I ended the call and stayed by the wall, watching athletes come and go from the nearby buildings, and the buses shuttle them back and forth. It wasn’t snowing, but the gray sky was heavy with it.

I’d had some close calls on the ice, like moments when your skates go out from under you, you’re going down, and all you can do is damage control because gravity has you. Your stomach drops, time slows, and you see the ice coming up like a wall of concrete. It’s not forgiving. Being sat in front of the panel had felt like that.

It was going to take some time to shake the panic off.

I needed to get on the ice, get my head in the zone, and work it out there. Although, if my nerves were too bad, I’d be shit on the ice.