Page 34 of Top Shelf

Ronan leads the drills, fluid and precise. He’s a captain in every sense of the word. He speaks in clipped commands and hard glances, and the team falls into line without question.

Lucian is less refined, but although his methods are different, they are just as effective. He bodies the puck off one of the freshmen during a passing drill.The freshman hits the boards with a yelp. It’s not an uncommon occurrence in practice, and nothing compared to the damage Lucian can inflict during a game. He’s brutal in every sense of the word.

We break for water after an exhausting line change drill. I lean on my stick near the boards, listening to the team chat while I down half my flask of water.

That’s when I see her.

Wren, standing just inside the doorway at the far end of the rink. Clipboard in hand, coat buttoned tight over her frame. She’s watching. Or rather, pretending not to. Lucian sees her too. I catch the way his shoulders tighten. The flick of his eyes, heavy with possession.

And that’s when the idiot opens his mouth.

“Y’all see the new intern?” Evans, a second-line winger,asks, staring blatantly at Wren. He’s one of the louder ones on the team. Boisterous. One of the few who enjoys challenging Ronan’s authority and gets a kick out of pissing Lucian off. “Tight little thing, huh?”

“What’s her name again?” chimes in Ford, another upperclassman. “Gwendolyn? Sounds like a fairy princess.”

Lucian’s head snaps up, eyes narrowing in that dangerous way of his that screams impending bloodshed.Great. Setting my flask down, I prepare myself in case these knuckleheads don’t have the common sense to shut the fuck up.

“Could probably bounce a puck off that ass and it’d come back with a phone number.” Evans chuckles, several other guys joining in.

In the blink of an eye, the vibe shifts from casual banter to ‘oh shit.’

Lucian shoves Evans, the move so fast and rough that it’s bone-jarring. Evans flies off the bench, sending water bottles scattering. Before anyone can do anything, Lucian is on him, one fist sinking into his ribs, the other already swinging again.

Great, here we go.

“Don’t you fucking talk about her,” Lucian snarls, fisting the front of Evans’s jersey as he goes to pummel him again.

Evans laughs. Fuckinglaughs. “Bet she’s the kind that likes it rough.”

Lucian’s fist connects with his jaw in a bone-deep thud that silences everything. “I’ll fucking give you something to bounce,” he snarls like a rabid dog.

Evans’s humor flees, shoving back at Lucian as he spits, “Touch me again and I’ll fucking flatten you.”

“You think she’s a joke?” Lucian growls, grabbing the collar of his jersey. “Say that shit again.”

Evans bucks, trying to dislodge Lucian from on top of him. When that doesn’t work, he swings.

And misses.

Lucian doesn’t.

His fist crashes into Evans’s cheek with a sickening crack. Evans stumbles sideways into the boards, teeth bared, blood already dripping from his mouth.

Chaos erupts.

Benches scrape back. Someone yells. Feet stomp.

“ENOUGH!”

Ronan’s bellow cuts through the brawl as he marches into the mix. Grabbing Lucian by the shoulder, he drags him off Evans.

Newly freed, Evans scrambles upright, blood dripping down his chin and eyes wide. “What the hell, man?!”

Before Lucian can lunge for him again, Ronan adjusts his stance, blocking their view of one another. I step in, bumping Lucian’s shoulder hard enough that he glares at me.

I gesture to my notepad where I’ve written,You want to give her more reason to be scared of you?

Tilting my head subtly to the side, his eyes lift to where Wren is standing on the other side of the rink, watching the interaction. Lucian’s jaw works like he’s chewing glass, an emotion I’m unused to seeing on him flashing across his face: Guilt.