Page 1 of Trade It All

Prologue

Myphonebuzzesagainstthe kitchen counter just as I’m pouring a second cup of coffee.

I want to ignore it.

It’s early evening, the arena long since cleared out after practice. Most of the guys are probably halfway through dinner or out with friends. My night was supposed to be quiet—film review, a couple calls with management, then bed.

The phone buzzes again.

I glance down.

Maddie

My brows pull together.

Madison Hale rarely texts me directly. If she needs something, it’s usually a group message or an email. She runs the Mustangs’ social media like a damn general runs a war room—efficient, organized, and always two steps ahead.

Which means if she’s texting me now, something’s wrong.

I swipe the screen.

911. RINK. LUKA ATTACKED.

For half a second my brain refuses to process the words. Then instinct takes over. The mug hits the counter so hard coffee splashes across the granite. I’m already moving. My keys are in my hand before I fully process the message. My jacket comes off the chair beside the door as I shove my arms into it, my pulse slamming against my ribs.

Luka. One of mine. And Maddie is there alone.

I call her. Straight to voicemail. “Fuck.”

The drive to the arena is muscle memory and adrenaline.

Former player or not, the instincts never go away. Protect your team. Protect your family. The Mustangs aren’t just players to me. They’re my responsibility.

And Maddie—My jaw tightens.

She shouldn’t be dealing with something like this alone.

My phone lights up again in the cupholder.

Ambulance coming. He's bleeding.

My grip tightens on the steering wheel.

“Hold on,” I mutter under my breath.

Flashing lights cut across the arena parking lot when I pull in.

Red.

Blue.

Chaos.

I barely get the truck in park before I’m out of it.

Paramedics are already working.

My eyes land on Luka first. He’s on the ground. Blood pooling beneath his head. Rage spikes so hard it turns my vision red.