Page 229 of Cross the Line
It happens in a blink. Eli hits the boards in an awkward heap. His neck is crooked and shoulders twisted with Presley’s weight holding him down.
I shoot forward, throwing my stick down with hard force.
Puck be fucked as I sideswipe Presley off Eli with a bone-rattling thump.
My raging shout spittles over the bastard’s jaw when I press him up to the glass with one hand and shuck my glove off with the other.
Asshole says fuck all as he stares me out. The same way he did to Eli during warm-up. Stood there, staring at him. Not saying a word because he knows his presence is enough to fuck with his head.
Glacial eyes narrow on mine, squinting with the uptick of his sicksmirk when the referee pulls me from him. Eli pushes between us, the pleading look on his face begs me to stop.
“Pussies,” Presley spits our way as he shoves one of his D-men off him. “Fucking abominations.”
Eli’s on him fast. Gloves off. Fists pummeling the cunt’s jaw until he staggers into the boards. Andie and the linesman hold him back, giving Presley a chance to push off the side.
His fist is reared back and aiming straight for my man. I see it instantly.
My fists are on him before my gloves hit the ice. Two of the Wolves’ men grip my shoulders, yanking me back, only for Rio and Bruce to shove them off.
It’s an all-out brawl behind me, feeding the raucous drum of my pulse. It’s thundering in my ears. Pounding in my chest.
The fucking stench of his sweat roils my gut when Presley grips my jaw. My whole body lunges forward. Arms, legs, feet, and hands. Hard and fast. The momentum is out of my control as we roll along the boards, fists clobbering anywhere and everywhere. The thrash of our bodies making it impossible to stay on our feet.
As we go down, my clenched hand surges upwards, clocking him square in the mouth.
Sharp teeth bite into my knuckles. The scorching pain shoots through me. Deeper with every pound of my fist on his face, on his neck…
Every drive, ratcheting my pulse. My hate. My need to make him pay.
He’s an animal.
“…wife beating sack of shit…”
He’s the abomination.
“…fucking abusive prick…”
The devil.
“…repulsive cunt… goddamnrapist…”
A monster.
And I don’t stop until he looks like one.
CHAPTER 65
ELI
The locker room is chaotic. Part celebration and part what the fuck just happened?
Jayden’s match penalty seconds before the end buzzer has turned the victory over the Wolves sour. Mostly because of the somber atmosphere that was already surrounding us.
The boos when he skated off, storming straight to the locker room with our assistant coach hot on his heels, filled the arena.
We knew this game was going to kill us for a myriad of reasons. Nonetheless, there’s an air ofholy shitsurrounding the team as we shower and change in silence. JJ’s still with Coach, which has my anxiety at an all-time high.
A game misconduct doesn’t just look bad on his record. Right now, it’s another point for the hockey press to drag him over the coals for.
