He was putting on bravado, but his face showed some degree of panic. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about?—”
“Watch your fucking back, fuckhead,” I hissed. Fuckhead is not the best curse, but I wasn’t sure calling him a rapist out in the open was the wisest move. Better to talk in non-specifics.
I spat again and skated away, firing pucks as hard as I could to try to shake him off.
“You alright, Cap?” Sorrento asked.
“No.” I said it with enough finality to tell him I didn’t want to talk about it. “We need to crush him.”
His eyes went concerned. “Him?”
I tightened my jaw. “Them.”
He nodded and bumped my fist, but his eyes stayed concerned. “We will.”
A whistleand a faceoff in front of Dallas’s goal. I skated with my stick trailing behind me, and wouldn’t you know it, when I pulled my stick around to my front, the blade lifted right under a certain goalie’s chin. His throat guard kept him from getting it too hard, but I still heard him startle.
Good.
“Watch it, Jonesy,” Dallas’s forward warned me.
“I didn’t do anything,” I scoffed.
Leroy won the faceoff, and I moved next to the goal.
Sorrento got the puck and fought out front to punch it in.
This was my moment to move, a perfect scenario. Pete was between me and Sorrento, and if I wanted to help Sorrento, I had one excellent, albeit illegal, option.
As badly as I wanted to, I didn’t plan on actually hurtinghim. I just wanted to rattle his cage so I could maintain my good boy status.
But maybe part of being a good boy was taking down the bad boys. Making sure they couldn’t succeed. Giving him a taste of his own poison.
I made my move.
I plowed through Pete. Through his head, more specifically.
Sorrento jammed it in the goal as Pete went facedown on the ice.
The whistle was immediate. The fists were even faster.
I got a check to the back of my head, and though it stunned me, I turned to grab for a jersey. I don’t remember taking my gloves off, but they were gone. The only thing that kept me from judo-throwing the green jersey in my hand was the continued whistles and hands forcing me off him.
I ran my mouth, a constant stream of cusses and nonsense I couldn’t recall if I tried. The metallic smell of blood surrounded me. I was out of breath going to argue with the ref, my vision scrambled. Then I was pulled to the ground for another round of pounding.
All the while, the arena was eerily quiet. Pete still hadn’t moved.
I couldn’t find it in me to care. He was already dead to me. I knew I should have feared that in myself, but I didn’t.
Every drop of blood, spit, and sweat was worth it. Because that fight woke me up to my deepest truth: I loved Violet Gennari, and I would stop at nothing to bring her peace.
FORTY-THREE
VIOLET
NOVEMBER | COLUMBUS, OHIO
“Heyyyy, bestie.”Kitty’s nervous voice came through the phone.
