Page 15 of Cold Carnage

Paige

The shrill ring of my phone cut through the quiet morning, pulling me from the remnants of a restless sleep. I squinted at the screen, seeingMomflashing insistently. My stomach churned as I swiped to answer.

"Paige! Have you seen the news?" Her voice crackled with panic, sharp and frantic.

I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my brain. "No, Mom. I'm just waking up. What happened?"

"The Serpents… there’s footage of some of the players in a fight—it’s everywhere! Is this going to affect your job? What’s going to happen?”

Heart pounding, I fumbled for the TV remote on my nightstand, nearly knocking over a glass of water in the process. My fingers finally found the power button, and the screen flickered to life.

“Mom, hold on,” I muttered, turning up the volume.

Hockey World Newswas already broadcasting footage of several Serpents players in a violent altercation at a bar. My breath caught as I saw Ryker Kane at the center of it all,fists flying. The headline scrolled ominously across the bottom:Serpents Stars Involved in Brawl—Team’s Reputation at Stake.

“Paige? Are you there?” My mom's voice trembled through the speaker.

“I’m here,” I whispered, eyes glued to the screen.

“I knew working with a hockey team would be rough, but this? Is this going to be a disaster for you? What am I even saying? Of course it is. Can you handle this? I mean, this is the NHL, Paige. This isn't college hockey, you know?"

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. “I need to know more before I can say for sure." I paused. Then, more to myself, I murmured, "This is bad, really bad.”

The footage looped again, showing Ryker throwing another punch. I froze. Brendan mentioned Ryker rarely reacted to anything. To see him like this… What caused this?

My mind raced with potential fallout—sponsors pulling out, fans losing faith, management in chaos. I couldn’t help but think about how hard I'd worked to prove myself and how easily this could unravel everything.

“I can’t believe this,” my mother continued, her worry seeping through every word. “Is there anything you can do?”

“Not sure yet,” I replied, swallowing hard. “I’ll need to talk to the team and see what our next steps are.”

“Well,” she said softly. "I just don't want you embarrassed. You've only been on the job for three days now. Oh, this isn't fair."

“It's my job, Mom.” I forced a small smile even though she couldn’t see it. “I’ll figure it out.”

Ending the call, I felt an overwhelming wave of frustration and helplessness. This wasn’t just about Ryker or the team; it was about everything I'd sacrificed and built. And now it felt like it could all come crashing down because of one reckless night.

I clenched my fists and turned back to the screen, determination hardening within me. There had to be a way to fix this—to salvage not just their reputation but mine as well. I wanted to prove myself. Well, I got the perfect opportunity to do just that.

I took the fastest shower of my life, scrubbing away the remnants of sleep and replacing them with cold, clear determination. I slipped into a pink blazer and matching skirt—sleek but undeniably feminine, like something Elle Woods might wear if she were fighting for justice in the NHL. I glanced in the mirror, tightening my ponytail. This wasn’t just about looking the part; it was about embodying confidence when everything felt like it was crumbling.

My phone buzzed again as I grabbed my purse and keys. I checked the screen: an emergency meeting called by Gideon Strong. My heart skipped a beat.

As I hurried out the door, I was hit with a blast of humidity already, and prayed my hair didn't frizz. But I pushed that to the side. My mind was racing with strategies, possible outcomes, ways to spin this disaster into something salvageable.

When I reached the Serpents’ headquarters, tension hit me like a physical force. Executives paced hallways, faces grim as they murmured into phones or tapped out frantic emails. The air felt thick with dread and uncertainty.

I entered the conference room to find Gideon already addressing a group of key executives. He stood at the head of the table, his presence commanding and unflappable. The room was filled with low murmurs, everyone’s eyes darting between their phones and the looping footage of Ryker’s fight playing on a screen at the far end.

Gideon’s voice cut through the noise like a knife. “We’ve faced worse than this,” he began, his tone calm but authoritative. “And we came through stronger each time.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, though it sounded more hopeful than convinced.

“This incident,” Gideon continued, “is not going to define us. We’re already implementing damage control strategies. PR is working on statements. Legal is preparing for any potential fallout.”

I took a seat at the far end of the table, trying to catch my breath and collect my thoughts. The Richard Mathers scandal had nearly destroyed the team; this felt like another blow when we were just beginning to regain our footing.

Gideon’s gaze swept over us, his eyes hardening as they met mine briefly before moving on. “We need to present a united front,” he said. “The media will tear us apart if they sense any division.”

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