Page 12 of Unleashed

He leaned back, turning to take in the empty ice, a faint smile on his lips. “We’re focused, determined. But we’re also trying to keep things loose, you know? Playoffs are a marathon, not a sprint. We’ve gotta pace ourselves.” He sobered for a moment. “Easier said than done with a bunch of guys who are wired to go full throttle, twenty-four seven.”

The ancient bench creaked as I shifted, buying time to frame my next question just right. “Viggy seems to have a calming influence on them.” The observation rolled off my tongue casual as can be. My fingers found the touchpad, rewinding footage of Viggy yet again, like a moth drawn to flame.

God, the way he moved through that footage. Pure authority in every stride, leadership written in the set of those broad shoulders. If I could just focus on analyzing his captain’s presence instead of remembering how it felt to be pinned by those blue eyes...

Please, Coach, take the bait. Give me something real about Jack Vignier, something beyond the controlled facade that made my pulse skip every time he entered a room. Something to explain how he wielded silence like a superpower, drawing everyone into his orbit without even seeming to try.

MacKenzie nodded at the video, his smile widening when Adam Riley started talking about a tattoo. “Riley’s got it bad, doesn’t he? Adele’s a good sport.”

When he looked up to meet my gaze, his eyes held pride and a hint of something less definable. “Viggy’s the heart of this team,” he said, his voice full of respect for the veteran player. “He leads by example. Doesn’t need to be vocal. He just lets his expectations be known. And let me tell you, I was a little intimidated when I first came to the team. But I get it now. The guys would plow through a wall for him. Hell,I’dplow through a wall for him.”

“He’s been playing for a lot of years. That’s got to take a toll on a man’s body.”

MacKenzie’s smile turned brittle, tiny brackets forming around his mouth and coldness creeping into his usually cheerful blue eyes. “By this time of the year, every player’s got bumps and bruises. It’s part of the game. Viggy’s a tough son of a gun with a good head on his shoulders. He knows how to manage his body.”

His words were at once a dismissal and a warning. I’d seen the vaunted “hockey culture” or “culture of toughness” in action. Players pushed through discomfort, shook off a hard hit. But I’d caught the flicker of concern in the coach’s eyes. The way his smile turned strained at the corners. Viggy was hurting.

“Thanks, Coach,” I said, my voice softer than intended. I cleared my throat and continued. “That’ll do for now.”

I packed up and made my way through the rabbit warren of hallways to the suite of offices assigned to theUnleashedcrew. Most of my crew lounged in the small conference room, hunched over their electronics, creating our masterpiece. I slipped into the closet-sized office I shared with Adele. She sat at her desk, phone glued to her hand as she scrolled through the socials.

I’d never dealt with a subject so resistant to being filmed. The Aces organization had practically thrown open their doors, seeingUnleashedas their golden ticket to fan engagement and social media dominance. The players took more convincing, even with the cooperation clause buried in their contracts.

But most of them came around. Hell, some of them had turned into regular social media darlings, loving the attention, the fan interaction. All except Viggy. He saw my crew as a threat, vultures circling overhead, ready to descend on the first sign of weakness…

My stomach dipped and rolled. I loved working in non-fiction storytelling—was fighting tooth and nail to rebuild my career ever since Sydney’s betrayal. But exploiting Viggy’s vulnerability for a special episode? I’d be confirming everything he already thought about me. He’d see it as a betrayal, a violation.

I needed a sounding board, someone to help me sort the mess in my head. How smart was I to hire my best friend?

“Adele?”

She glanced up from her phone, her eyes crinkling around the corners as she grinned. “Hey, what’s up?”

I crossed the space to lay my laptop on the table I’d claimed as my desk, my stomach churning with what I was about to suggest. “Pick your brain for a minute?”

Adele spun her chair around, her usual sparkle dimming as she caught my expression. “You’ve got that look. The one that says you’re about to do something either brilliant or terrible.”

“Maybe both.” My fingers found their spot on my wrist, counting heartbeats while I gathered courage. “Malone’s been pushing for something bigger, you know? With that dead week coming up before playoffs...” I swallowed hard. “I thought maybe we could do a special episode. About Jack.”

“Jack now, is it?” Adele’s eyebrows shot up. “Not Viggy?”

Heat crawled up my neck. “That’s not—I mean—” I dropped into my chair, the ancient springs protesting. “He’s playing injured, Del. Like, seriously injured.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. They’re all held together with tape and prayers this time of year.” She waved her phone, showing me yet another ‘hockey players are built different’ meme. “It’s basically their whole brand.”

“This is different.” The words scraped my throat raw. “His knee... I’ve been watching the footage. Over and over. It’s bad, Del. Really bad.”

Understanding dawned in her eyes. “And Malone would love that juicy little detail, wouldn’t he? Turn the iron man into some tragic figure? The mighty captain brought low?”

My stomach rolled. Because she wasn’t wrong. Malone would take Jack’s struggle and twist it into something cruel. Something designed to trend on social media rather than honor the man’s dedication.

“What am I doing?” I pressed my thumb harder against my pulse point. “Am I really considering exposing Jack’s vulnerability just to please Malone? To save my own career?” Bile burned the back of my throat. “I’m turning into Sydney, aren’t I? Ready to sacrifice someone else’s dignity for a few rating points?”

“Hey.” Adele rolled her chair closer, her hand covering mine. “You’re nothing like that snake. The fact that you’re even worried about it proves that.”

But the guilt churned in my gut, mixing with something that felt dangerously like betrayal. Because I’d seen Jack when he thought no one was watching. Seen him fight through pain that would level a normal person. Seen his quiet determination to give everything for his team.

And here I sat, plotting to turn that dedication into entertainment.

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