The vets nod. They’ve heard this speech before. Cole smirks like he’s already planning how to spin it into content. Viktor just cracks his knuckles, a wall waiting for war. Mats leans back, unreadable, but I catch the way his jaw tightens.
I can’t stop bouncing. My knees won’t quit under my pads, blades tapping the floor like they’ve got a mind of their own.
Because this is it.
This is what I’ve been dreaming of since I was twelve, staring up at a poster of him over my bed.
My first game in Reapers black. My first game under his command.
And I swear to God, I’ll bleed out on the ice if it means hearing him saygood boyagain.
Damian doesn’t pace. He doesn’t need to. He just stands there, huge and firm, voice like gravel ground smooth, laying it all out.
“Petrov—shut them down at the blue line. Don’t give Shaw an inch.”
Viktor nods once, calm as stone.
“Rivera—close gaps, make them pay if they cut low.”
Mats hums, lazy but sharp, like he’s already building the angles in his head.
“Vance—keep your stick down and your mouth open. You want to chirp, chirp their goalie, not their captain.”
Cole smirks like the devil, already loading material.
“O’Rourke—stay locked in. They’re going to crowd your crease, hack at you. You bite back.”
Shane mutters something about curses and blood.
He goes down the line, every word clean, specific. Every man here knows exactly what’s expected.
Then his eyes land on me.
My chest jerks, breath catching. I can’t keep still. My leg’s bouncing, stick tapping the floor.
And then he says it.
Flat. Final. Like a sentence being handed down.
“Mercer. You’ve got the leash tonight. You want to run your mouth? Run it. You want to burn yourself raw? Burn. Go feral. Make them come for you—and when they do, we’ll be there.”
My skin ignites. My blood howls. Permission. He just gave mepermission.
I want to laugh, want to scream. My grin splits so wide it hurts. I’m twitching in my skates like I could burst through the boards right now, right this second, and tear Haverton apart piece by piece.
“Yessir,” I rasp, vibrating out of my own skin.
Cole’s staring at me like I just lost my mind. Tyler looks like he’s about to shit himself. The vets? They don’t even blink.
But I’m already gone.
Cole snorts, loud enough to cut through the buzz. He leans back in his stall, half-smirk, half-scoff. “Curls is gonna get himself killed out there…”
The room ripples—half a chuckle, half a hum of agreement. Tyler stiffens like Cole just voiced his worst nightmare.
And then Damian looks at him.
“That’s why we’re there,” he says. A pause, lethal. “To not let them kill him…no?”
