Page 79 of Fractured Faceoff

I caught glimpses of my teammates moving with purpose, pucks flying back and forth, but I couldn’t shake that feeling tightening in my chest. Isla’s expression twisted with frustration as Brody leaned in closer, his words too quiet for me to hear but loud enough to send anger boiling through me.

When our line shifted, I barely waited for my player before hopping over the bench. My skates cut into the ice as I glided toward them without a second thought. The play carried on behind me—my teammates engaged in battle while I had only one target in mind.

I banged hard on the glass between us. The sharp thud echoed across the rink, drawing their attention like a spotlight.

They both froze, their eyes snapping toward me. Brody’s smug grin faded; Isla's gaze widened with surprise.

“Hey!” I shouted, my voice slicing through the noise of the crowd. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Brody raised an eyebrow, amusement creeping back onto his face. “Don't you have a fucking game to play, Crowder? You really want your first game with the Serpents to look like this?"

“Yeah?” I leaned closer to the glass, glaring at him with all the heat of Southern summers packed into my stare. “I'll fucking kill you."

Isla’s expression shifted again—surprise mingling with concern as she looked between us. But I wasn’t here to soothe her fears; I was here to put Brody in his place.

“You don’t get to talk to her,” I continued, keeping my voice low but steady. “One more word outta you aboutanything? And you’ll find out exactly how much this little conversation is worth. She's my girl now. Kindly fuck off."

Brody straightened up slightly at my threat but quickly masked it with asshole confidence. “What are you gonna do about it?”

I leaned even closer, lowering my voice so only he could hear over the din of cheers and chants around us. “As I said before, asshole, I'll fucking kill you. You don’t want to find out what happens when someone messes with what’s mine.”

The tension hung thick between us as Isla looked between us, concern etched across her features.

Brody clenched his teeth, the anger radiating off him like heat waves. “I hope you get sent to the AHL for this, you bastard,” he spat, but I could see that confidence in his eyes wavering. He backed away, though he didn’t quite leave.

Regardless, I felt a surge of triumph, but it quickly faded when I met Isla’s gaze. Her expression was a puzzle; I couldn’t decipher if she was angry or relieved. But damn, she looked good in my jersey—her figure outlined against the fabric that seemed to hug her curves just right.

I smirked at her, hoping to break whatever tension hung between us.

“Let’s go!” I shouted as I hopped back into the play, shaking off any lingering doubts about what just happened.

My focus narrowed as I slipped back into the rhythm of the game. Skating hard down the ice, I kept my eyes peeled for openings and potential threats.

As the opposing team rushed forward, their forwards pressed against our defense like a tidal wave. The moment felt electric—every muscle in my body coiled tight with anticipation.

A forward shot toward our goal, but I sawit coming. I lunged out and threw my body in front of it just as the puck flew past our defenseman—a good block that sent me sprawling onto the ice.

I rolled back up quickly, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I regained my footing and spotted the puck skidding away from me.

It was mine.

With a quick flick of my wrist, I snatched it up and maneuvered around a defender who hadn’t anticipated my recovery so fast. My heart raced as I headed toward Weston Cole, who was waiting at center ice with his stick poised like a sniper ready to fire.

I launched the puck straight at him with precision.

He took one swift stride before winding up and sending it soaring toward the net. The sound of wood striking rubber echoed across the rink as Cole connected perfectly—the crowd erupted into cheers just as we took control of the game.

I barely registered what happened next; all that mattered was that feeling—the thrill of contributing to something bigger than myself while Isla watched from behind that glass, her expression still unreadable yet compelling enough to keep me grounded.

I refused to admit my own surprise about the confrontation. Not about what I said to Brody, but because I actually meant it.

Chapter 23

Isla

The roar of the crowd faded into a muffled buzz as I sat there, heart pounding. The ice glimmered under the arena lights, but all I could see was Jared gliding away. My stomach twisted into knots. The sight of him confronting Brody while the game raged on felt surreal, like a scene from a movie I’d never wanted to star in.

Part of me burned with embarrassment. I didn’t need Jared stepping in like that, putting himself on the line for me. What would everyone think? Here I was, caught up in this mess, and he felt the need to swoop in like some hero. It only highlighted how badly I’d mismanaged things with Brody.

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