Page 60 of Unleashed

I grabbed my phone and switched it off. The last thing I needed was his praise for this betrayal.

“When we look at players who continue despite severe knee trauma, the long-term implications are devastating.” Medical diagrams appeared, highlighting everything that could go wrong. “We’re not just talking about mobility issues. We’re looking at potential disabilities by the time the player’s in their fifties.”

The music shifted, turning ominous as the camera zoomed in on Jack during a recent practice. I’d known the shot was perfect when we’d captured it—him alone on the ice after the rest of the team had gone, testing his knee, his face a mask of barely concealed pain. At the time, I’d felt like I was documenting something important. Now I just felt like a vulture.

“Sources close to the team suggest management are saying Viggy’s retirement is coming a year too late,” the narrator intoned as footage played of Silver running drills. “With promising talent waiting in the wings, the question becomes: is Vignier’s presence helping or hurting the Aces’ Cup chances?”

“Turn it off,” I whispered, but I didn’t reach for the remote. Like watching a car crash in slow motion, I had to see it through to the end.

“We’ve got to get through this,” Adele said softly, abandoning her cookie dough to sit beside me. “The industry sucks sometimes. We do what we have to do.”

Adele’s words—a refrain she’d said more than once since we’d started this project for Malone—were as much an attempt to soothe herself as they were for me, but in that moment, I genuinely wished we’d never stepped foot on Aces’ property. Never seen a game, never met a player. If I could roll back time…

“I’ve ruined him.” The words scraped my throat raw.

“No.” She wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “He’s Jack Vignier. He’s survived worse.”

But had he? The episode’s final montage played—every grimace, every misstep, every moment of vulnerability I’d captured over eight months—cut together into a devastating argument that the great Jack Vignier was finished. That his stubbornness was hurting the team. That his time was over.

On screen, the final shot—Jack alone in the locker room, his hand pressed against his knee, his face a map of pain, but also determination. The moment I knew I’d fallen in love with him, twisted now into evidence of his supposed detriment to the team.

“Sometimes there’s no good choice,” Adele murmured, but her usual optimism sounded forced. “Just the choice we can live with.”

But as the credits rolled—Malone’s name where mine should have been—I wondered if I could live with this one. If any career was worth the cost of destroying someone I’d grown to care for. Someone who’d trusted me enough to let me see behind his carefully constructed walls.

The screen went dark, but the damage was done. Tomorrow, everyone would be talking about the fallen captain of the Aces. About his pride and stubbornness. About whether he should step down.

And it was all my fault.

Chapter Nineteen

Viggy

Hockey Rule #54: Your reputation is built shift by shift

Media Rule #54: Your reputation is one viral post from ruin

Thescenthitmethe second I stepped into the tunnel leading to the ice. Citrus and spice. Lily’s unique scent. My stride hitched, every muscle in my body going rigid.

Fuck. Not now.

I shouldn’t be able to pick her perfume out of the mix of sweaty gear, rubber flooring, and the underlying chill of the arena. Shouldn’t let it throw me off my game like some rookie getting his first taste of playoff hockey. But there it was, catching in my throat, dragging me back to memories of her warm skin under my hands, her soft gasps in my ear.

Just begging me to lift my gaze, search out the source.

Keep walking, Vignier. One foot in front of the other.

The buzz of the crowd filtered down the concrete corridor, building in intensity as we got closer to the ice. Playoff hockey. This was what mattered. Not the woman who’d taken my trust and turned it into primetime entertainment. Not the way my chest tightened every time I caught glimpses of her around the arena today.

“You good, Cap?” Riley bounced beside me, all bouncing puppy energy and wide eyes. The kid radiated excitement. Would probably vibrate right out of his skin his first shift out there.

I grunted. “Remember what we talked about. They’re going to come at you hard early. Don’t get distracted.”

If they didn’t come after me and my fucking knee.

My knee twinged as we hit the rubber matting leading to the ice. I shifted my weight, compensating without breaking stride. The team needed their captain focused, not dwelling on personal shit or physical limitations.

Like it was instinct and not just a habit I’d given into over the long season, I glanced up at the press box. Lily leaned into her usual spot, dark hair falling around her face as she tucked her chin to her chest. Hiding, if I guessed. She’d made herself a target last night, too. My fingers twitched, remembering how that hair felt sliding through them.

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