Page 32 of Unleashed

“When you come back,” Mack continued, his voice dropping lower, but still sharper than a skate blade, “be ready for the fight of your lives. This series demands everything you’ve got and then some. Full focus. Total dedication. The same determination that put us on top through eighty-two games this season.”

Behind him, our Aces logo glowed from the screen, blue and gold, proud and fierce. My blood heated, my pulse quickening with the same fire I’d felt since the first time I pulled that jersey over my head seventeen years ago. I’d bled for that crest. Built my life around it. No fucking way I’d go down without emptying everything I had left in the tank.

My knee might scream with every stride. Doubt might claw at my gut with each hit I took. But I wasn’t done.

Not by a long shot.

Coach’s face softened, the tactical mastermind melting into something more approachable—your favorite uncle ready to slip you a twenty when your parents weren’t looking. “You guys crushed it this year. Couldn’t be prouder.” He shook his head with a grin. “Though I could definitely do without Fred the Iguana colonizing my office.”

Laughter rippled across the room. Fred had appeared mysteriously after our last road trip, a three-legged rescue iguana who now ruled Coach’s private space like he owned the deed.

“But the hockey?” Coach’s voice dropped, reverent. “Best I’ve seen in twenty years behind the bench.”

He stepped around the podium, his eyes sweeping across our faces before locking onto mine. My spine straightened automatically.

“Now comes the real test. Everything we’ve worked for. What we’ve dedicated our lives to. A shot at history.” His voice rose with each word. “At getting our names on Lord Stanley’s Cup—the greatest fucking trophy in sports!”

The room exploded. Feet pounded the floor. Voices roared. My heart hammered against my ribs as blood rushed through my veins, hot and electric. This wasn’t just in our blood—hockeywasour blood. These men understood the sacrifice, the obsession, the brotherhood. Every single one of them.

Coach lifted his hand, and silence dropped over us like a blanket. He’d only played four seasons on the blue line before his knee gave out, but he’d found his true calling developing talent. Teaching. Leading. The game never released its hold once it grabbed you.

“For some of you...” His voice quieted, heavy with meaning that pressed into my chest. “For some ofus, this is it. When you think you’re empty, when you’ve got nothing left to give, remember your teammates. Remember yourcaptain.” His eyes burned into mine. “Find that last ounce of fight. We’re taking this series. We’re bringing home the Cup. This is our goddamn year!”

The roar of sound hit like a physical wave. Before I realized it, my name echoed through the room.

“VIG-NIER! VIG-NIER!”

My jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. I pushed to my feet, raised my hand to acknowledge my boys—my family, these men who’d bled alongside me for years.

“Our fucking year!” I shouted over their chant, trying to redirect their energy, but they wouldn’t stop shouting my name.

I dropped back into my chair, shooting Mack a death glare that would have wilted anyone else. The bastard just grinned and ducked behind his podium as if that scrap of wood could protect him from retribution.

“Alright, settle down!” He shouted over the chaos. “No pressure, Viggy, but we’re doing this for you. Not letting you down. Right, boys?”

Another roar crashed through the room. Mack raised his hands, palms out, gradually bringing them back to Earth.

“Take your days off. Come back ready for war. I believe in every one of you.” The humor drained from his face as his eyes found mine again. “I believe in you, Jack. This is your year.”

His words settled on my shoulders, heavier than any jersey I’d ever worn. I wanted to believe him. Needed to believe him with everything I had.

But the fire burning through my knee told a different story.

Ibelieveinyou,Jack. Coach’s words echoed in my ears as I drove to Sutton’s apartment later that day. They lingered as she buzzed me into the lobby and I rode the elevator up to her floor. They whispered as I knocked on her door.

But then she swung the apartment door wide, and the sight of her yanked Mack’s voice out of my head faster than losing an edge on a breakaway—sudden, disorienting, impossible to look away from. She wore some flimsy white number that left her belly bare and dipped low between her tits. Her hair, usually up and away from her face, cascaded in shiny brown waves down past her shoulders. Every thought, every weight piled on my shoulders, melted away.

I’d wasted months avoiding this woman. Resenting her and the job the Aces organization hired her to do. Resenting the added burden and more recently, resenting the threat she represented to my secrets.

I stepped forward, forcing her back into her apartment, lodged my hand along the side of her neck, and stole a kiss. Quick and hard, an almost instinctual response to her presence. Only years of discipline let me pull away just as quickly.

She rolled her lips together as though savoring my touch, and a slow heat curled through my chest, pulling me deeper under her spell. Her fingers slid from my shoulders, down my chest to fist in the fabric of my shirt at my waist. A tiny exhale escaped her soft lips and she darted her gaze up to meet mine.

“Well,” she said, her lips tipping into a tiny smile. “That’s one way to say hello.”

She didn’t wait for a response, but dropped her gaze and sidled past me into the corridor outside her apartment. “What’s on the agenda? Am I dressed appropriately?”

“Depends on your definition of ‘appropriately’.” I followed her into the hall, cupped my hand at her hip and guided us to the elevator. Not touching her wasn’t an option. The woman was lucky I hadn’t dragged her straight to the bedroom.

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