Page 59 of Bar Down

Coach Vicky paced behind them, reviewing defensive zone coverage with the forwards. Marcus half-listened, eyes drifting up toward the executive box. He couldn't see Stephanie from the bench—just the occasional flash of movement behind tinted glass. The thought of her up there, playing her part while Reed lurked nearby, made his jaw clench.

When had she become so important? When had his carefully calibrated life expanded to include a variable as unpredictable and essential as Stephanie?

The whistle blew, ending the timeout. As Marcus stood, Jax caught his arm.

"You good?" his defensive partner asked, eyes narrowed. "You're distracted as fuck."

"Fine," Marcus replied, sliding his mouthguard back in.

"Better be. Dietrich's looking for blood tonight."

Back on the ice, Marcus forced himself to focus. Ten seconds into the shift, Columbus dumped the puck into their zone. He retrieved it smoothly, absorbing a hit from their forechecking winger. As he looked for an outlet pass, he spotted Chenny hovering near Dietrich behind the play, saying something that made the larger man's shoulders stiffen.

Their eyes met briefly across the ice. Chenny gave an imperceptible nod. The timeline was accelerating.

The next five minutes were a blur of physical hockey. Columbus seemed determined to establish dominance, finishing every check and digging hard for loose pucks. The Chill matched their intensity, with Kane scoring on a slick wrist shot that silenced the hostile crowd.

Through it all, Marcus kept one eye on Chenny, who was engaged in an escalating shadow war with Dietrich. Each time they crossed paths, Chenny would say something or give a little slash behind the play—not enough for a penalty, but enough to build tension.

With 11:20 left in the period, Dietrich caught Chenny with a high hit that sent him sprawling. No call from the officials. Chenny popped up, spitting blood from a cut lip, eyes blazing.

"Time," Marcus heard him mutter as they crossed paths during a line change.

The next shift unfolded with the inevitability of a penalty kill gone wrong. Chenny accelerated into the Columbus zone, deked around their defenseman, and drove hard to the net. As the goalie covered the puck, Chenny gave him a light snow shower—a minor hockey sin that never failed to infuriate.

Dietrich was on him instantly, shoving Chenny into the goalpost. Officials moved in to separate them, but Chenny had other plans.

"How's your wife?" Chenny taunted, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "She's still keeping my DMs hot. Says you can't satisfy her."

Dietrich exploded, throwing off his gloves and grabbing Chenny's jersey. "You're dead!"

What followed wasn't so much a fight as a calculated assault. Chenny ducked the first punch and then launched himself at Dietrich with unexpected ferocity, landing a vicious uppercut that rocked the bigger man backward. Blood sprayed as Chenny's fist connected with Dietrich's nose—a clean break by the look of it.

Before anyone could react, Chenny had thrown Dietrich to the ice and was raining down punches, catching the linesman with an elbow as he tried to intervene. It took three officials to drag him away, his face a mask of manufactured rage.

"Get him out of here!" the referee shouted, signaling a five-minute major and game misconduct.

Marcus winced. He’d have to make sure that Columbus couldn’t take advantage of the power play.

The crowd was in an uproar. Coach Vicky looked furious, which was exactly the point. No one would suspect this was planned—not when Chenny had just displayed a level of aggression he'd never shown in his entire career.

As he skated toward the tunnel, blood streaking his jersey from both his own and Dietrich's injuries, Chenny caught Marcus's eye one last time. He spit a mouthful of blood onto the ice—pure theater—and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Mission in progress.

Marcus returned to the bench, settling in for the penalty kill. Ten minutes left in the period. Ten minutes until intermission. Ten minutes until Stephanie would create the distraction that would give Chenny access to Reed's laptop.

And all he could think about was how much he hated not being able to protect her himself.

The realization hit him like a blindside check. This wasn't just about their careers anymore. Wasn't just about beating Reed or preserving their professional futures. Somewhere between their first heated argument about analytics versus narrative and that stolen moment in the supply closet, Stephanie had become essential to him in a way that defied statistical analysis.

Marcus Adeyemi, who built his life around predictability and patterns, was falling in love with the most unpredictable woman he'd ever met.

The thought should have terrified him. Instead, it settled into place like the final piece of a puzzle he hadn't realized he was solving.

As the penalty kill unit took the ice, Marcus channeled his newfound clarity into pure defensive focus. Reed wasn't just threatening their careers now.

He was threatening their future.

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