Page 18 of Tangled in His Game

Still, I slowly make my way toward the locker room. The door is open and I scrunch my nose as I take a quick peek inside. No one’s there. But I can see Victor’s bag. He’s still here somewhere.

I find the door that leads to the rink and push it open. As I reach the stands, I can hear more noise coming from the rink. Most of the lights have been turned off, and I crouch in the darkness. What’s happening?

An older man in a suit with dark hair is sitting in the penalty box, surrounded by two dangerous-looking men in black shirts. They must be his bodyguards or they just look like it.

Victor is on the ice, with full gear on. There are five more guys not too far away from him, ready to play. I don’t think I’ve seen them before. Their gear is all black too, without any numbers or anything.

“Again!” the man in a suit yells, his tone impassive.

Victor hesitates as he holds his stick. The five men take their positions. Wait, what? Why does it look like they’re all playing against Victor?

I get my phone out and start recording. Whatever is happening here, I want to have proof of it. Isn’t it a bit weird to have a training session after the game? Victor must be tired, but I don’t want to feel bad for him.

He moves and I finally spot the puck right behind all the men. It’s so close to the goal, but Victor needs to get to it first. He evades the first guy and slams his shoulder into the other.

But the third guy and fourth don’t wait. They ram into him from both sides. Victor lets out a shout that echoes through the silence as he falls down. One of the men places his stick right under Victor’s chin, and I gasp.

“Let him up,” the man in a suit says. “Again.”

Victor pushes himself up to his knees as the guys back away from him. For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to get up, but he does.

He picks up his stick and skates away from the men. Then they’re all back to their initial positions. How many times has he done this already? His movements are slower than before, and it’s the second guy who shoves him with so much force that Victor collides with the side of the rink.

He drops his stick as another guy punches him in the stomach. As he doubles over, two guys are on him. They’re shielding my view of him, but I can see them raising their fists and throwing punches.

“Enough,” the man in a suit yells.

The guys back away. Victor is sprawled on the ice, barely moving.

“So you admit your defeat then?” The man gets to his feet.

Victor says something I can’t hear.

“What did you say?” the man asks. “Speak up.”

Victor lifts himself up enough to take his helmet off. “Yes, sir.”

“All right then.” The man smiles. “See you at the club.”

At the club? What club? What was this about? Everyone leaves, except Victor, who slams his fist hard against the side of the rink. He lets out an angry and frustrated shout as he pushes himself up.

But he doesn’t make it far. He just sits on the steps that lead to the locker rooms and leans his head against the wall as he holds his arm over his stomach. Those punches must’ve hurt. But why did he do all that? And after the game? Who is that man?

I stop recording. It’s better if I get out of here before Victor sees me. He’s in pain, but I don’t think that would stop him if he thought I saw something I shouldn’t have. And I doubt he wanted me to witness any of this.

I slowly head back to the door, careful not to make any noise. Once I’m in the hallway, I hurry away from there as fast as I can and rush home.

I barely say hi to my parents, who are in the kitchen, as I storm to my room. As I transfer the video I took to my laptop, I chew on the inside of my cheek. I’m not going to try to use the video against Victor until I know more, but I need to study it carefully.

As I zoom in on the face of the man in a suit, I take a screenshot and use reverse image search to see if anything pops up.

And it does.

Jake Overton.

Victor has the same last name, so is the man his father?

Jake is a rich businessman, and there are plenty of photos where he appears with Victor. I click through some social media posts.

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