Page 67 of Unleashed

Coach’s knowing smile sent me to the door. “Give ‘em hell, kid.”

But beneath the panic, beneath the strategic assessment of just how thoroughly I was torpedoing my future, something else bubbled up. Something that felt suspiciously like... relief.

Because the truth glowed like a sunrise after a long, scary night: I’d spent so long trying to claw my way back to where I’d been, I’d forgotten to question if that’s where I wanted to go.

The weight that had been crushing my chest since Malone dropped that contract on my desk lifted. Not entirely—I wasn’t completely crazy. I still needed to find a new future. But if I turned down the contract, it gave me enough room to breathe. Enough room to stand.

Enough room to remember who I used to be before Sydney taught me to compromise everything.

Chapter Twenty-One

Viggy

Hockey Rule #15: Trust your linemates with your life

Media Rule #15: Trust no one with your story

TheAcesPerformanceCenterfelt different at five a.m. Hollow. Empty. My footsteps echoed off concrete walls, the usual chaos of game day preparation still hours away.

My knee protested with each step down the hall. Not even on the ice yet and pain already clawed its way up my leg. But pain I could handle. The reporters camping out in the media room since that damn episode aired? The pitying looks? The whispers? That crap could stay locked outside where it belonged.

Movement in the video room caught my eye. Through the half-open door, dark hair spilled over hunched shoulders as Lily leaned into a bank of monitors. What was she doing here this fucking early? The sight of her sent electricity arcing through my veins before I could retreat.

Turnthe fuckaway.

But my traitorous body had other ideas. My fingers twitched, muscle memory kicking in—the silk of her hair sliding through them, her soft gasp when I’d tug the dark strands just right. I’d been a damn fool. While she’d been sifting through film for my weaknesses, I’d been falling for her one whisper at a time. Falling into the trap of thinking I could be happy after hockey.

Get your head on straight, Vignier.

I forced myself down the hall, jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. The woman had already proven exactly how dangerous she could be. To my focus. To my team. To whatever remained of my heart after she’d carved it up for ratings.

Yet here I was. Still tracking her movements like she hadn’t already shown me exactly how this story ends.

“Early today, Cap?” Riley’s voice cut through my spiral. The kid lounged against the training room door further down the corridor, already decked out in his practice gear. His usual puppy energy muted. His eyes watchful as I approached.

“Could say the same to you.” My voice came out with a captain’s authority. The kid didn’t need to know how close I was to cracking.

He shrugged, but his eyes stayed sharp. “Figured you could use the company.”

No questions about the knee. No mention of the media circus. Just quiet support from a kid who’d somehow grown into exactly the kind of teammate you wanted in your corner.

Puppy’d grown up when I wasn’t looking.

“Thanks.” I clapped his shoulder as I passed. Infusing the word with all the words I couldn’t say. “I’ve got to check in with Jabari, then I’ll meet you on the ice.”

But as I shoved through the training room door, Puppy trailed in my wake. The room smelled like menthol and old sweat, as familiar as home. Jabari motioned me to the nearest table in the otherwise empty room. He worked over my knee—manipulating the joint, testing range of motion—all while pretending not to notice the way I white-knuckled the edge of the table.

Riley bounced on his toes beside the treatment table, his usual puppy energy dialed down to something more watchful. Not quite the wide-eyed rookie who’d shown up at training camp at the start of the year.

I would have preferred he’d left me to face Jabari’s torture solo, but if he was here, he might as well provide some distraction. “You go to O’Malley’s with the guys last night?”

The boy’s grin cracked wide before I even finished the sentence. “Yes! You should have come, Cap. The place was fire!”

Jabari smirked but kept his eyes on the joint. He didn’t need to say anything. The look said it all—Puppy was impossible to resist, and I wasn’t nearly as heartless as I might have wished.

I wasn’t the first captain to leave a team and I wouldn’t be the last. I needed to get my dramatic head out of my ass and win this series. And the next. And the next.

Because in the end, all I had was my legacy.

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