“If that opens, you’re done.”
I nod. “No argument.”
“Good.”
She straightens and tosses the roll of tape back into the medical kit.
“Honestly, I’d prefer you not take another hit at all today.”
“Not really how hockey works.”
“No,” she says dryly. “It isn’t.”
I pull my jersey down over the padding and rotate my shoulder once. The bandage holds.
Tara watches the movement carefully.
“Comfortable?”
“Good enough.”
There’s noise drifting through the wall now - skates scraping concrete. Game day chaos.
Tara exhales slowly.
“Alright,” she says. “Let’s go over one more thing.”
We step out into the hallway where the team is gathering near the tunnel.
Zane is there already, stick in hand, talking quietly with Russo. Mercer leans against the boards, half dressed in gear.
Tara claps once to get their attention.
“Quick announcement,” she says.
Several heads turn.
“Shaw took a cut yesterday as you all saw. He’s fine to play. But I’d appreciate it if you lot tried not to drive opponents directly into his upper chest today.”
Chen nods thoughtfully. “Protect the clavicle.”
“Exactly,” Tara says.
Russo grins. “So basically, we just murder anyone who gets near Shaw.”
Mercer cracks his knuckles. “I can work with that.”
I glance sideways at Zane. He doesn’t say anything. But his eyes flick briefly toward the bandage beneath my jersey collar.
Then Russo taps his stick once against the floor. “Alright,” he says to the group. “Let’s go win a hockey game.”
The noise of the arena swells as the doors open toward theice.
ZANE
Northern State isn’t the Wolves.
That much is obvious from the first few shifts.
