Page 170 of Top Shelf

Whatever Isaac did…

Lucian thinks it’s worth more than the Frozen Four.

Shocked and unable to wrap my head around what I’m witnessing, I look toward Coach Wexler. He looks ready to commit murder because Lucian has just blown up our championship game.

And the worst part?

As he’s dragged toward the tunnel, he doesn’t look sorry. He doesn’t look regretful. He looks like he hasn’t gotten enough.

Just before he disappears, his gaze finds mine. Rage darkens his gray eyes, but something else slips through. Something raw. Broken.

I take a step toward him.

I want to yell and scream at him, but more than that, I want to wipe that look from his face and make it so he never looks at me that way again.

I don’t get to do any of that, though.

An official jerks him forward, and the moment slips away.

In a daze, I turn toward the ice. Isaac is still there. Blood sheets down his face. One eye is already swelling shut, and his nose sits at an angle noses aren’t supposed to sit at. He spits a mouthful of blood onto the ice, and something white lands with it. A tooth.

I recoil. It’s the one thing about hockey players that grosses me out.

A medic shines a penlight into Isaac’s eyes while another presses gauze against a laceration on his face. It takes them a while to check him over, and when they finally attempt to help him up onto his skates, his legs buckle beneath him.

The crowd falls strangely quiet, and we all stand witness to the extent of his injuries as a stretcher is brought out to carry him off the ice. There is no way he will be finishing out the game. Hell, it looks like he will be spending the next week in a hospital bed.

Seeking out Ronan and Silas in the hopes of gainingsome answers, I notice them exchange a look. Neither of them looks surprised at the violence that just unfolded. Whatever has pissed Lucian off, they know about it. They know what it is. It’s safe to say, I no longer give a shit about who wins, because whatever is happening out there…

It’s bigger than hockey.

I barely even register the final buzzer when it sounds. The Steelhawks erupt in cheers, yet I feel nothing. I haven’t been able to think of anything else since Lucian was taken off the ice. The only reason I haven’t already sought him out is because I have a job to do.

But now that’s done.

Around me, Kings staff stare out at the ice in stunned silence. Some look devastated. Others look angry. Coach Wexler is already storming toward the tunnel, his face thunderous.

The season is over.

The championship is gone.

I’ve never cared less about a hockey game.

Pushing on to my toes, I try to find the guys through the chaos of celebrations and commiserations.

“Wren!”

I turn at the call of my name. Dylan is skating toward me through the chaos, still in full gear. Her helmet is gone, sweat plastering dark hair to her forehead. Teammates are trying to pull her back into the celebration, but she ignores all of them.

“What the hell was that with Lucian?” she asks, pulling me into a hug over the boards. It’s awkward with all the gear she’s got on.

I groan, covering my face with my hands. “I have no idea. He looked like a man possessed.”

“I thought he was going to kill Evans.”

Yeah, she’s not the only one. Footage from the fight is already going viral on social media.

“I’m sorry.” Reaching out, I squeeze her hand. “Congrats on the win, but I need to go find him.”