FORTY-FOUR
ARCHANGEL
We get on the plane, and the guys are weird, but Wolfe doesn’t notice because he sits in the window seat like normal, and I’m next to him. But the energy is rancid.
If that article ruins our chance at winning, I’m going to find whoever leaked that photo and personally ruin their life. Then it occurs to me who would be most likely to have leaked the fucking photo.
It had to be Mark.
Him and the Monsters are the ones who benefit the most from it. Not only in the draft area, but he’s probably also trying to get the team to turn on us. I bet he saved it all this time, too.
Holy shit.
Do I tell him or keep it to myself?
I glance over, and he’s deep into his music, softly singing along. “Wolfe.”
He doesn’t hear me at all.
I elbow him.
He pulls one ear off. “What’s up?”
“I know who leaked the photo.”
“Who?”
“Mark.”
He narrows his eyes, thinking really hard about it. “It would make sense, but how did he get that picture? He wasn’t in New York.”
“It’s floating in that gossip crap Seaborn was talking about, and if he was looking for a way to fuck us over, he’d be waiting for something.” It’s just too convenient for it to show up today of all days.
“Which means they think we’ll beat them this weekend.” He’s grinning.
Unbelievable.
“You can’t be happy about this?”
“Why wouldn’t I be happy about it? They are scared of us.” He’s not even fazed.
“What if it fucks up the team flow?”
“Have faith in the boys.” He puts his arm around my shoulders.
“You’re not worried at all?”
He taps his temple. “I feel fucking good.”
“The team is acting weird.”
My point is proven at practice. We dropped our stuff at the hotel and went right to the rink to get some time on the ice. And the guys are weird. Like overnight, no one knows how to interact with us.
“If this is how we play tomorrow, we won’t even play Boston in the final. We’ll lose the semi,” I say as we’re getting dressed.
“Huh? We were fine.” Wolfe notices everything. He’s the first to say if the energy shifts, so he’s got to be denying it to himself or just trying to keep my head in the right place.
We head back to the hotel for team dinner, and no one says a word to us. They are whispering, and it has to be about us. But it’s not even the whispering that’s bothering me; it’s the solemnness of the team. They aren’t playful and joking around.
