Page 45 of Arrogant Puck

“Well, you should! You have something to lose here—”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.” She steps closer, and I can see the frustration burning in her eyes. “Acting like this isn’t going to get you anywhere. You can’t just—”

I move faster than she expects, closing the distance between us until she’s backed against the brick wall. My hands brace on either side of her head, caging her in, and I lean down until my mouth is inches from her ear.

“Mind your own business,” I whisper, my voice deadly quiet. “And if you can’t do that, I’ll make sure you don’t see the light of day anymore.”

She sucks in a sharp breath, but she doesn’t back down. “I’m just trying to help—”

“That’s your first mistake.”

I push away from the wall and stride out the door.

Riley’s already found the coaches. I can see them huddled near the lockers, Riley’s hands moving animatedly as he speaks. Coach catches my eye and frowns, but I just keep walking.

Let them talk. Let Riley file his reports and make his accusations. I’m on contract, and my stats speak louder thanhis complaints ever will. If they drop me, which they won’t, someone else will pick me up before I even clear the building.

I’m untouchable, and everyone knows it.

The guys part like the Red Sea when they see me coming. Henderson actually steps into a doorway, pretending to check his phone. Smart man. I’m not in the mood for conversation or camaraderie tonight.

My car is a sanctuary in the empty parking lot. I slide behind the wheel and slam the door, immediately reaching for the stereo. The bass hits first, heavy and rhythmic, drowning out the voices in my head that keep replaying the look on Sage’s face when I had her against that wall.

I close my eyes and let the music wash over me, let it fill the spaces where violence wants to live. The melody is dark and driving, matching the chaos in my chest, and slowly—very slowly—I feel the edge start to dull.

Because if I don’t calm down, if I don’t get this rage under control, I’m going to do something that I’m not fucking proud of.

And I can’t let that happen.

Chapter 15

Riley’s voice cuts through the training room like a blade. “Sage! Office. Now.”

I look up from the ice machine, my hands still shaking from the encounter with Slater. His threat echoes in my ears—I’ll make sure you don’t see the light of day anymore—and I have to force myself to move normally as I follow Riley into his cramped office.

He slams the door behind us, whirling around with fury written across his face. “What the hell did you say to him?”

“Say to who?” But I already know.

“Don’t play dumb with me. Slater. What did you tell him?”

I shake my head, trying to keep my expression neutral. “I don’t talk to Slater.”

“Bullshit.” Riley steps closer, and I catch the nervous energy radiating off him. “That psychopath just cornered me in the equipment room and threatened to destroy my entire career. Over what? What could I have possibly done to warrant that kind of—” He runs his hands through his hair, pacing behind his desk. “Are you talking to him? Are you two involved somehow?”

“No. He refuses any help or treatment from me. You know that.”

Riley stares at me for a long moment, searching my face for cracks in the facade. “Then why? Why would he target me specifically? I’ve barely interacted with the guy.”

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “Maybe ask the coaches. Maybe it’s about playing time or—”

“This wasn’t about hockey.” Riley’s voice drops to a whisper. “This was personal. And calculated. He knew exactly what buttons to push, exactly what threats would work.” He looks at me again, suspicion creeping back into his expression. “You’re sure you didn’t say anything? Anything at all?”

“I’m sure.”

He doesn’t believe me. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens, the way his eyes narrow. But he can’t prove anything, and we both know it.