He went down, but I followed. Couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. Every word he'd said about Harper echoed in my skull, feeding the rage that had been building since Sullivan made her stay behind.
Pet doctor.
Sweet pussy.
Bend her over.
My knuckles split against his helmet. His nose crunched under my fist. Someone was screaming. Maybe him. Maybe me.
Bodies crashed into us. Arms wrapped around me, pulling, yanking. I threw them off, went back for more. Briggs wasn't moving anymore, face a mess of blood and swelling, but I didn't care.
"KNOX! STOP! YOU'RE KILLING HIM!" Peterson's voice cracked with panic.
Peterson and Chen together couldn't hold me. It took half the team piling on before they dragged me off. Even then, I was still swinging, catching Mitchell in the mouth, dropping Chen with an elbow.
The refs were going insane, whistles shrieking. The crowd was on its feet. Both benches had cleared.
"Match penalty! You're gone, Maddox! GONE!" the head referee screamed in my face.
Two refs and three teammates escorted me off the ice. My jersey was soaked with blood, mostly Briggs', some mine. My right hand was definitely broken. Didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the rage still boiling in my chest.
Richards was waiting in the tunnel, face purple with fury.
"What the FUCK was that?" he shouted.
"He disrespected what's mine," I said flatly.
"I don't give a shit! You just committed assault on live television!" Richards stepped closer, voice dropping dangerously.
"Good. Now everyone knows what happens when they talk about her," I replied.
"Her? You mean Dr. Graves?" His eyes narrowed. "The doctor you were explicitly told to stay away from?"
"The Omega I claimed. My mate," I stated simply.
Richards went white. "You didn't."
I just stared at him. The truth was probably written in the violence still shaking through my muscles.
"Jesus Christ, Knox. You claimed her? During her heat?" he whispered.
"She asked me to," I said.
"She was in heat! She couldn't consent!" Richards exploded.
"She could and did," I snarled, voice getting louder. "And if one more person suggests otherwise, I'll put them through the fucking wall."
"You're suspended. Indefinitely. Maybe permanently," Richards said coldly.
"Fine," I shrugged.
"Fine? Your career is over and all you say is fine?" he asked incredulously.
"I don't give a fuck about my career," I told him.
"Since when?" Richards demanded.
"Since Harper became more important than hockey," I said simply.
