Page 70 of Unleashed

“Maybe.” He nodded so hard his whole body quivered. “But you’ve been different lately. Less...I dunno. Less growly? More like actual human-person Viggy instead of hockey-robot Viggy.” He demonstrated the difference with exaggerated facial expressions and robot arms.

Christ. When had the hyperactive puppy gotten so perceptive?

“Get your gear sorted.” I fought back another smile as he started collecting his scattered equipment. Behind him, the corridor began to fill with more people. Players arriving for the morning practice, more trainers, coaches. People I’d worked with for a lot of years. “Get ready, Puppy. Time for practice.”

He gathered up his stuff, but darted a grin up at me. “Hey, Cap?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever happens? We’ve got your back!” He punctuated this with a fist pump that sent half his gear tumbling again. “Oops! I meant to do that. Totally meant to do that. Working on a new pregame ritual!”

He spun around, nearly taking out a water bottle cart, and moonwalked backward down the hall while shooting finger guns my way.

I watched him bounce away, wondering when exactly I’d lost control of this whole situation.

The locker room stood empty now, the usual game day chaos replaced by heavy silence. Just me and my thoughts. Dangerous combination these days.

I sank onto the bench, finally letting myself feel the throb in my knee. The tape job would hold, but the real question was whether my head was in the game.

The team needed their captain focused. The fans needed their hero charging toward one last Cup run. My father needed his legacy secured.

And I needed...

The scent of citrus and spice lingered in my nose. The memory of Lily’s voice echoed in my ears.

Fuck.

I wanted to hate her. Should hate her. The episode had laid bare every vulnerability I’d fought to hide. But even now, knowing what she’d done, my traitorous mind conjured the softness of her skin. The way she’d curl into me in the early morning light. The sharp intelligence behind those sea-glass eyes when she really looked at me.

“Get it together, Vignier.” My voice bounced off cement walls. “Game face.”

But alone in the quiet, I could admit the truth—game face or not, Lily Sutton had gotten under my skin in ways no injury ever could. And walking away from her might prove harder than skating on a busted knee.

I pushed to my feet, testing my weight. The knee held. It wouldhaveto hold.

Because that’s what captains did. We carried the weight—of expectations, of responsibility, of choices that stripped us raw—and we kept moving forward. Even when every step hurt like hell.

Even when we had no idea what waited on the other side of our last game.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Lily

Hockey Rule #63: Practice like you play

Media Rule #63: Every moment is an audition

Theviewcountclimbed.Engagement spiked. The numbers kept jumping, each refresh higher than the last. They should’ve felt like a win. Instead, my stomach twisted with dread.

The press box vibrated with that special energy that came with sensing blood in the water.

Viggy’s blood.

Side-eyes and whispers from reporters who’d ignored me all season now trying to catch my attention. Power dynamics shifting with every ping of my phone.

I inhaled a small breath. Released. Smiled the professional smile I’d perfected in LA. Let them think what they wanted. Let them see the composed producer who’d delivered exactly what Malone demanded.

Not the woman dying inside.

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