Deacon hits the gas.
“Fuck no, pull over,” I snarl.
“I did not ask for anyone to be harmed.” He frowns.
“I don’t give a fu?—”
“You fucked up.” Aleks cuts me off and yells at him. “You —
“I do not like you,” he snaps back. “But I did not promote violence off?—.”
“You’re a piece of shit.” I laugh in anger.
Reznik’s jaw tightens.
“Careful,” Deacon warns
I do not heed his warning. “Just like the fans you brought with you.”
His eyes sharpen, “That has nothing to do with me.”
“You stirred it.”
“I fought on the ice.”
“And threw fuel on the fire.” Aleks shakes his head. “Your fans followed your lead.”
“You don’t get to put that on me.” He snarls
“You don’t get to believe that your words don’t carry anymore,” Deacon says calmly. “Not after this.”
“I have made a statement.”
“Statements don’t mean shit when you’re calling me a fucking?—”
“Alright, that’s enough.” Deacon cuts Aleks off.
“I will make this right,” Reznik says quietly.
The automatic doors slide open too slowly as the four of us enter the ER. A nurse spots us and waves us to another set of doors. “She’s in three.”
We head in, and when I turn the corner, Hildy is standing there, and I see a thin red scratch along her cheekbone. I take her face gently in my hands and tilt it up. “What happened?”
She exhales. “I’m fine.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“Someone grabbed me when I stepped between them.”
“Between them?” My jaw tightens.
Hildy nods toward the curtain. “Go see Anna.”
I take her hand, and we head in. Anna’s hair is pulled back. Blood cleaned away. But there’s a neat line of stitches just above her eyebrow, curving toward her temple.
Her jersey is folded on the chair beside her, glass dust still clinging to it.
She rolls her eyes when she sees me. “Don’t.”
