Page 108 of Captain's Claim

"Argh! Fuck, baby!"

I pound into her, relentless, hard and fast. Her release triggers my own, and I spill into her, my cock pulsing with each wave of pleasure.

Panting and exhausted, I roll off her, pulling her into my arms.

She snuggles against my chest, her breath warm against my skin. I can feel her heartbeat, her contentment, her trust.

And now, with my heart already laid out for the one person who I care about more than anything, it's time to put the rest of the world on notice.

No one messes with Blake Maddox.

But more than that…

They don't mess with his girl.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Blake

Istand at Ridgeview's bar, my fingers drumming against the polished wood as I watch reporters file in. The stale scent of beer and decades of hockey history fills the room, but today it's different.

Today, everything changes.

"You sure about this, kid?" Eli wipes down glasses behind the bar, eyeballing every journalist and reporter who walks through the front door to his bar.

"Never been more sure of anything."

Except maybe Sophia.

The thought of her face on ESPN yesterday, those vultures tearing apart her career, seeing the pain they caused her… and that fucking suitcase, packed and ready in her apartment.

Just thinking about it makes my jaw clench.

I've spent years protecting myself, hiding from the spotlight, keeping my past buried. But they went after her. They made her doubt herself.

And that's where I draw the line.

Camera crews jostle for position near the dartboard, their equipment looking comically out of place against the worn wooden walls covered in jerseys and memories of Icehawks years gone by.

"Kid, I gotta say..." Eli's eyes crinkle with amusement. "You might be the first hockey player to ever host a press conference next to a dartboard."

I roll my shoulders, trying to shake off the tension. My heart pounds against my ribs, but not from the usual pre-game adrenaline that floods my system.

This is different. This is everything I've run from.

Somewhere out there, my father might be watching. It didn't occur to me until I woke up this morning. But fuck it. Let him see. Let him see what his son became despite him.

"It's not a press conference," I mutter, watching more reporters squeeze through the door. "Eli, today is a reckoning."

He smirks and shoots me a wink.

There are plenty of Eli's contacts here – retired players, local journalists who actually give a damn about the game and not the numbers behind it. People who've known me since I was that weird kid who could hit a puck harder than anyone they'd ever seen.

They're all here.

They're the ones who'll tell this story right.

The NHL has never owned me. The media's never controlled me. But Sophia? They turned her into a headline.

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