Page 17 of Cold Carnage

The room fell silent as other players watched our exchange with interest and caution. This was more than just about making a statement; it was about leadership and accountability.

Ryker stared at me for a long moment, his face an unreadable mask of frustration and anger.

The air felt charged with unspoken words and unresolved tensions as we faced off in that crowded locker room, each waiting for the other to give in first.

The silence stretched, tension crackling between us like static electricity. I refused to back down, despite the weight of Ryker’s glare bearing down on me. This was a power struggle—he wasn’t used to being told what to do, especially by someone in my position. But I couldn’t let him brush this off. The team’s reputation hung in the balance.

"You think you know how to fix things?" Ryker demanded, his voice a low growl. "You leave more of a wreck than before you get there. Everything you touch crumbles."

His words hit like a slap. I squared my shoulders, refusing to let him see how deeply they cut. "What happened between meand Brendan is none of your business," I shot back, trying to keep my voice steady. "There are things you don't know?—"

"Bullshit," he interrupted, sneering. He took a step closer, looming over me. My heart skipped at the proximity, a mix of fear and something else that made my pulse quicken. Ryker Kane was an enigma—both alluring and intimidating, like hot ice. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but I was afraid I'd get burned.

I glanced away, remembering the aftermath of Brendan's betrayal and even now, with Ryker losing it on a fan. The memory was enough to douse any flicker of curiosity with a bucket of cold water.

"Regardless of what you think," I said, lifting my chin to meet his gaze head-on, "you need to let me do my job. And if I mess up, fine. I'll be fired and then your life will be so much better without me."

His eyes darkened further, but he didn’t move back. "You really think it’s that simple? This isn’t about making mistakes, Paige. This is about responsibility."

"And I'm taking responsibility," I replied firmly. "I know what's at stake here, more than you realize."

Finally, Ryker let out a frustrated breath. “Fine,” he muttered, his tone making it clear he was far from happy about it. “But I’m not sugarcoating anything.”

I nodded, feeling a small sense of victory despite his obvious displeasure. “I’ll write up the statement,” I said, keeping my voice calm despite the tension still simmering between us. “You’ll have final approval. And I'll want to know what happened. The truth."

He said nothing more, turning his attention back to his teammates, the conversation clearly over as far as he was concerned.

I walked away, the weight of the crisis still heavy on my shoulders, but at least now I had a starting point. This wouldn’t be the last difficult conversation I’d have with Ryker, but for now, it was enough.

I headed toward the front of the room, feeling dozens of eyes on me. The players were anxious, their faces twisted into both worry and defiance. They needed reassurance—something solid to cling to in this storm.

Taking a deep breath, I faced them head-on. “All right everyone,” I began, projecting as much confidence as I could muster. “We’re going to get through this.”

The room quieted down further as all eyes fixed on me. This was my chance to set the tone for how we’d handle this crisis.

“We’re putting together a unified statement,” I continued. “One that addresses what happened and reassures our fans and sponsors that we are taking this seriously.”

A few nods of agreement rippled through the crowd. Good—they were listening.

“I need everyone’s cooperation,” I said firmly. “We can’t afford any more slip-ups or rogue comments to the press. This is about protecting our team and our reputation.”

A murmur of assent moved through the players. The tension began to ease just slightly.

“We’ll be in touch with each of you individually for your statements,” I added, locking eyes with a few of them to emphasize my point. “Stick to what we discuss and don’t go off-script. But I would like to know your side — the truth. If there's anything that you're hiding, anything that might bite us in the butts, I need to know so I can get ahead of it and protect the team. All of us. Together."

With that, I turned and left the locker room, feeling both relieved and exhausted by the confrontation. There was still so much work to do, but at least now we had a plan in motion.

As I made my way back to my office, my phone buzzed with incoming messages. Even my mom wanted to know how I was doing.

I couldn't even respond to that. I didn't have the time or the emotional bandwidth to handle her right now.

No time for hesitation; it was time to roll up my sleeves and get to work again.

I sat down at my desk, the weight of the morning’s events pressing down on me. The office felt like a hiding place, a brief respite from the chaos outside. But as I opened my laptop and began drafting Ryker’s statement, I knew this was just the beginning of a long, grueling PR battle.

The words came slowly at first. Each sentence had to be precise, every word chosen carefully to convey remorse without admitting fault. It was a tightrope walk, balancing honesty with damage control.

“Given the recent events, I deeply regret my actions,” I typed, imagining Ryker’s voice saying the words. “My behavior was unacceptable and does not reflect the values of our team.”

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