Page 98 of Fractured Faceoff

“You’re right,” I said slowly. “But trust is earned over time—especially in this sport where camaraderie matters.”

“Then help me earn it.” His voice was firm yet laced with an earnestness that caught me off guard.

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by his willingness to engage in this conversation so openly. “It won’t be easy,” I warned him.

“I did not expect easy.” A smirk played at the corners of his mouth as if he relished the challenge.

“Good,” I said, allowing myself a small smile in return. “Then let’s get started.”

I leaned back in my chair, studying Nikolai's intense gaze. He had an edge to him, a sharpness that made it clear he didn’t shy away from conflict. “The team dynamics here are different from what you’re used to,” I started, trying to bridge the gap between us. “The Blackwater Reapers were rough—borderline criminal, if we’re being honest.”

He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. “Full of scandal,” he pointed out, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“True,” I admitted. “But when you’re in, you’re family. That’s it.” I watched him closely, searching for any sign of recognition or understanding.

Nikolai stiffened at the word family. “I don’t have family.”

“You do,” I insisted, leaning forward slightly. “You’re here now. Sometimes family isn’t who you’re born with; it’s who you choose.” The words felt heavy in the air between us, but he didn’t react.

“Let’s just discuss what you want to discuss,” he said, cutting through the moment with a stark tone. “I killed a man. And there’s concern that it will reflect poorly on the team.”

"If Gideon Strong and Minka Mathers were worried about your past, they wouldn’t have signed you," I replied evenly. “The police cleared you of any wrongdoing. We don’t need to know more than that. However, your temper is still a concern.”

“I’m Russian,” he shot back with an intensity that nearly silenced me. “What is it they say? Cold. But the very few I care about? I protect as fiercely as a lion.”

“Yes, well…” I hesitated before continuing. “Mikel Petrov blames you for the death of his older brother and we play his team for our home opener.” The tension in the room thickened like fog rolling in off the ice. “We want to make sure he can’t goad you into anything.”

“A lion doesn’t care about the words from a fawn.” His expression hardened again as if steeling himself against whatever challenges lay ahead. "I will not respond."

“I understand your perspective,” I said softly, choosing my words carefully as his defenses flared once more.

He leaned back, his eyes narrowing as if weighing my words. I had opened a door I wasn’t sure I wanted to step through, yet here we were, the silence stretching between us thick with unspoken truths.

“You think the violence defines me?” he asked, a challenge lurking beneath his calm demeanor.

“It’s hard not to when you’re nicknamedThe Russian Reaper,” I replied, my voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in my stomach. “That reputation follows you.”

He scoffed lightly, shaking his head as if dismissing the idea. “I’m a hockey player first and foremost. That’s it. The blood on my hands is there for a reason.” His voice lowered, each word dripping with intensity. “The death was not meant to happen.”

“But it did,” I said sharply, unable to mask the bite in my tone. The truth felt like a jagged edge lodged in my throat.

His expression shifted slightly—something flickered in his eyes that made me pause. For just a moment, I saw the weight of his past resting heavily on his shoulders. “We cannot change what has happened,” he said slowly, almost as if speaking to himself more than to me. “We must accept it if we’re ever to truly grow.”

His words hit me harder than I expected, crashing over me like waves breaking against rocky shores. There was anundeniable truth in what he said, and it resonated deep within me—an echo of everything I had been avoiding for so long.

“Accept?” I repeated, almost incredulously. “Is that really how you deal with your past? Just…accept it?”

“Yes,” he replied simply, his gaze unwavering. “You cannot dwell in regret or shame forever. It consumes you.”

I fell silent for a moment, chewing over his perspective while wrestling with my own demons—how many times had I tried to bury feelings instead of confronting them? How often had I wished away moments that had shaped who I was?

“You make it sound easy,” I finally murmured.

“Easier than pretending it doesn’t exist,” he shot back, leaning closer as if drawing me into this conversation.

“Well, okay,” I said, forcing a smile as I rose from my chair. “Thank you for coming in.”

Nikolai nodded, his expression unreadable as he stood and headed for the door. The air shifted around us, carrying the weight of our conversation with it. As he walked away, I felt a strange sense of clarity wash over me.

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