“Justice,” I said evenly. “We’ve never questioned you, Coach. We’re good players, but tonight, we aren’t going to be.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” he bit out, but we were done talking. He let it go, yelling out at Rainer for losing the puck. Thankfully, the team got it back. Our second line was just as good as the first.
It continued like that through the rest of the second period. It felt like the longest game of my life.
There would absolutely be fallout for tonight. Something we’d have to handle with our heads held high.
If they fined us, we’d pay. None of that mattered.
I had my doubts it would be the only game like this. The moment the Narwhals starting lineup found out we had their omega, that she’d left them behind, they’d try to strike back.
The third period was no different. The home crowd went wild, thunderous and relentless with each goal we slammed into the net.
A small handful of Narwhal fans tried to boo, but they were drowned out completely.
The announcers’ voices blurred into static. So did the jeers from the other bench. If there was one thing my alpha knew how to do, it was hyperfocus.
Right now, I was locked in.
When the coach sent us out for the final stretch, I was ready. I flew across the ice, freshly resurfaced and smooth, my skates sharp beneath me. The entire first-line was out together, our pack bond wide open again.
Their adrenaline and determination fueled my own. We were one unit.
It wasn’t just the bond, but years of playing together, of reading micro-movements, of knowing where the others would move without looking. That preliminary bond we’d formed mattered. I could feel them around me, our presence swelling and overwhelming everything else.
The Narwhals never stood a chance.
The coaches tried to stagger the shifts, but every time they put us out against each other, we dominated. When they split us, we eased off just enough to stay clean, but effective. It made the times we faced off with those assholes even more explosive.
We’d be feeling it tomorrow, too.
The rivalry was obvious now. Nothing compared to my hatred for the Narwhals and the assholes they chose to represent them.
The Narwhals only managed to sneak two pucks past Conrad before the final buzzer sounded.
The crowd erupted, noise cresting louder than I’d ever heard it. We skated together, colliding in celebration, sticks raised, a pile forming near center ice.
I barely managed to focus as the interviews and press started. They knew I wasn’t much of a talker and went for guys like Mason and Conrad. I did my part, smiling and celebrating, hoping to rub it in their faces just a little more.
When they laid down to sleep tonight, I wanted them to think of this and wonder just what had shifted.
This wasn’t our first game. However, this rivalry and intensity were a first.
Just wait until they found out the truth. I bet it’d be even more brutal. A clash from both sides.
The locker room was chaos when we finally piled in. Adrenaline had us all wired, voices overlapping, laughter sharp and manic. I didn’t even bother worrying about the consequences yet.
Coach was pissed, I knew that much.
After the showers, my body was sore and stiff, muscles screaming. The extra hits and constant pressure was rough. We were absolutely going to pay for it tomorrow.
“Starting Lineup, stay behind. Flynn, you’re good to go.”
Conrad hesitated, but he didn’t push it. Cade waved him off. “Drinks are on me tonight,” he said, reluctantly heading out. At least he’d be there to keep an eye on Lana. I hated that she was alone in the kitchen tonight, watching and waiting for us.
Though, I hoped she loved the show we put on.
Coach didn’t waste time laying into us, his voice loud enough I knew they could hear it in the hall. “Somebody want to tell me what the fuck that was?!”
