Page 135 of Born of Ice

“And it all comes down to this game. Whoever wins this one is onto the playoffs.”

“Well, it should be a good one because Exton Quinn is back on the ice. There he is, looking as menacing as ever.”

“Yikes, I’d be rethinking my strategy if I was the Devil’s head couch.”

“Yeah, Quinn looks to be on a warpath…but how many will he take down with him? How long do you reckon until the first power play?”

“With that look in his eyes? We’ll be lucky if we get a few minutes of five on five.”

“Exton, damn it! Stay away from him! Defense! Defense,” I hear coach yelling. I see him featuring wildly with his arms, but he might as well be screaming into the wall, outside this arena. I don’t actually hear him—my mind is all over the place. I can’t focus. I can’t keep the puck in my eyesight and I sure as hell can’t go onto offense.

The Ice Devils have been domineering the first period while we’ve been scrambling around, chasing them.

Severin is already tired, and it’s only been ten minutes, but he must’ve made at least ten saves in those ten minutes already.

“I see you still can’t play for shit, Quinn,” Yanis taunts me, his mouth guard hanging off his mouth. “Still the pissed off little boy as usual. Weren’t you in some kind of rehab? Oh, wait, no. You were actually on babysitting duty, right? With that crippled figure skater? How is she? Did you work your Axe magic on heror did she send you packing too? Man, you can’t even keep an invalid, no wonder all your girlfriends come right to me.”

All I see is red and the next thing I know, his jersey is balled up in my fist, my other hand reaching to plummet into his jaw when something tugs on me.

Not physically.

On the inside. Something tugs on me.

My breathing picks up, but my hand releases its hold on him. And he’s as surprised by it as I am.

“Shut the fuck up, Yanis,” Severin snaps, but I’m not paying attention to what they’re saying to each other. Not caring in the slightest about the crowd that’s beating against the glass behind me.

I’m searching. My eyes scanning the twenty thousand seats around the arena.

I feel it. I fucking feel it.

The piercing sound of the whistle cuts off the thread that I was pulling on, bringing me back into the game and I shake my head.

No, she can’t be here. Right?

She’s up in the air—where she should be. But I clutch the arm with her lips on it, rub my gloved finger over the tattoo, drawing a tiny bit of calm from it.

I have to get it together. For her. I have to get it together.

The game starts again and we manage to get a lead on them but then it all happens in a quick snap.

The Ice Devils passing the puck to each other, Fooley and Goram intercepting from our end.

The chase is on.

Zima has the puck and he’s flying toward Sava and I’m flying toward him but it’s too late, Yanis sends the puck into the net, it misses by a narrow margin but Yanis himself doesn’t.

He runs straight into Severin, knocking him over with his whole body.

Sava’s head is thrown back, his helmet is knocked off as his whole body hits the cold ice…he’s lying on his side…there’s blood.

We don’t think. None of us are thinking as every single Outlaw is out on the ice sending fists into every Ice Devil. But my eyes fix on Zima and I run straight into him. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This is not just a little fight—this was done on purpose. Yanis slammed into him like that on-fucking-purpose. He wanted to hurt Sava. He wanted to make him bleed and it’s only fair I do the same.

“Die, motherfucker.” With all the rage I’ve bottled up over the past twenty-four hours, I send my fists flying, slamming him against the boards with enough force to shake across the entire structure and he fights back, trying to send one into my jaw, but I’m faster. Just like my last game here with him.

I plummet my bare knuckles into his nose once, twice and then once more until I hear a satisfying crunch of bone under mine, see the spray of blood flying past my cheek, and onto my jersey, but it’s not enough.

I want to drain him off it until he’s lying down like a helpless, useless waste of space he is and I’m a second from completely losing it. I know it. I can sense that thirst for his blood beating against my veins like it did last time.

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