Jace made a small sound beside me—surprise or fear, I couldn't tell. June cursed quietly near the door.
I didn't deny it. Couldn't deny it. Not when it was written all over my face.
“Don't talk about him like he's a weapon,” I said, voice rougher now. “Don't reduce him to a distraction or a scandal or a problem to be managed. He's a person. He's brilliant andtalented and works harder than anyone I've ever coached. And yes, I love him. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm a good coach who made the right calls.”
Paul laughed. “That's not a defense, Grant. That's a confession.” He moved toward his desk, pulled open a drawer. “You're done. Effective immediately, you're terminated for conduct unbecoming and violation of team ethics policies.”
“Paul—” June stepped forward. “You need to think about this.”
“I have thought about it. He admitted to a relationship with a player. That's grounds for immediate termination. No severance, no references, no second chances.”
“If you do this, it confirms the story,” June said urgently. “It makes the photos real. It turns speculation into fact. You'll create a media firestorm that will be ten times worse than what we're dealing with now.”
“It's already out of our hands,” Paul said, voice clipped. “The league office called this morning. They're launching a formal investigation. Ethics committee, player welfare review, the whole nine yards. They want to examine every decision Grant's made regarding Hartley. Ice time, benching decisions, the cabin trip. Everything.”
My stomach dropped.
“How long?” June asked.
“Minimum two weeks. Could be longer depending on what they find.” Paul looked at me with cold satisfaction. “They said they'll allow you to coach through prelims but make no mistake, Grant. They're building a case. And when they're done, you're finished.”
“Unless the investigation clears him,” June pointed out.
“It won't.” Paul's voice was certain.
Then the door slammed open.
Rook walked in first, still in practice gear, followed by O'Rourke, Volkov, Mercer, Cho, and half a dozen others. They filled the office, crowding in, and I felt my heart stop.
What the fuck were they doing?
“You can't fire him,” Rook said. His voice was calm, captain-steady, but there was steel underneath.
Paul's face went red. “Get out of my office. All of you.”
“No.” Rook didn't move. “If you fire Coach Sutherland, we walk. All of us.”
The room went dead silent.
“You're under contract,” Paul said slowly. “You can't just quit.”
“We can refuse to play. We can sit out the prelims. We can make this franchise look like a circus that sacrifices good coaches to protect its image.” Rook's voice never wavered. “Fire him, and we make sure everyone knows why. We make sure the media understands you terminated him for caring about a player's health.”
“That's insubordination.”
“That's loyalty.” O'Rourke spoke up, arms crossed. “Coach has been nothing but straight with us. He benched Hart when it needed to happen. He pushed us when we needed pushing. He's a good coach. And you're trying to throw him away over some photos that don't prove anything.”
“He admitted to a relationship!”
“He admitted to caring,” Mercer said. “There's a difference.”
Paul looked around the room, face twisted with fury, and I saw him realize the corner he was in. If he fired me, the team would rebel. If the team rebelled during prelims, the franchise would implode. And if the franchise imploded, his job would be next.
June stepped in, voice smooth and calculated. “The league already said he can coach through prelims. Fire him now andyou're creating chaos for no reason. You confirm every rumor. You make this front-page news for weeks. You destabilize the team right before the biggest games of the season.” She paused. “Or you let him coach, let the investigation run its course, and we control the narrative until we have actual findings.”
Paul's jaw worked. His hands clenched and unclenched. I watched him do the math, watched him weigh his options, watched him realize he'd lost.
“Fine,” he spat. “One more incident—one whisper of impropriety, one photo, one moment that looks questionable—and I don't care what the league says, you're gone. No hearing, no appeal. Done.”
