Chapter 1
Alexei
The crowd roars as I skate onto the ice. Our home fans always turn out, hungry for the violence and power of a Titans’ hockey game. I gorge on their energy, letting it fuel the simmering darkness within.
My cousin Viktor slams his goalie stick, one of his pre-game rituals to feed the madness glinting behind those ice blue eyes. "Let's give these fools a nightmare they'll never forget."
Jackson Reed, my roommate and one of our centers, flashes his signature smug grin. "I'll have their winger begging for mercy by the second period."
I snort. "We'll see about that. Bet he doesn't last past the first."
The Aviators’ dumb schmuck new winger glares at me as I line up. "Russian ox! I'm gonna plow you into the boards all night. You won't know what hit you by the final horn."
"Big words. Will you back them up or crunch when I crush you like a bug?"
I bare my teeth in predatory excitement. The monsters are out to play. This fool has no idea the hell about to be unleashed on him.
The puck drops and the Aviators take possession, but only for a second. I’m on the pathetic bug, smashing his body into the boards.
The crowd erupts into feverish cheers.
They know what I can do.
What I live for.
I gain possession, then pass to Jackson.
He catches the pass and effortlessly weaves through the opposing players with a graceful agility that belies his imposing stature. His powerful strides carry him toward the Aviators' net.
As Jackson winds up for a slapshot, the air crackles with anticipation. The sound of his stick connecting with the puck echoes through the arena, sending a shockwave of excitement through the crowd. The puck soars toward the net, a blur of speed and precision.
The Aviators' goalie, caught off guard by the sheer force behind Jackson's shot, desperately tries to make the save. But the puck finds the back of the net, triggering an explosion of jubilation from the home fans.
I turn to Jackson as he skates by. “Nice shot. Think that one’s begging for mercy already.”
Jackson turns toward the Aviators’ goalie and smiles wickedly as we head back to the bench for a line change. “Just warming up. Gonna make that net his personal hell.”
Connor Walsh, our captain, fist bumps us as he hops over the boards toward center ice. "Keep this up, and we'll be bathing in their tears by the third."
"Told you the winger would break." I jut my chin to the fool heading back to his own bench. "He's favoring his left knee."
Jackson turns to me, raising a brow. “But he’s still kicking. You going soft?”
The snarl that leaves my lips is dark, viscous. He might be my friend, but don’t test me. No one is truly safe from me.
When we skate out for the second period, I immediately spot my target. Fire flashes in his eyes when he catches me staring at him.
He wants revenge.
Good.
I give him a little wave and his lip twitches into a scowl.
The puck drops and I muscle toward him, prowling like a predator sensing weakness. He tries to stay on his feet but I body check him hard, relishing his cry as he crumples.
The refs' whistles sound but I'm not finished. I yank him up by the collar of his jersey, murmuring threats in Russian. "Give up or I'll end you right here."
He snarls and spits in my face. Fool. I slam his head against the ice in response.
