Page 88 of Trade It All

“Move.” Grady doesn’t even look at him. He yanks the locker room door open.

“Where are you going?” I bark.

Grady pauses in the doorway and turns back toward me. And the smile that stretches across his face is not remotely sane. Menacing. Calm. The kind of smile that means he has already made a bad decision and is perfectly at peace with it.

“Need to warm up,” he says casually. Then his eyes flash. “And have a little chat with Jake and Jasper.”

Oh, fuck.

I stay planted in the middle of the locker room and try very hard not to think about what four pissed-off hockey players can accomplish in under ten minutes.

It’s not helping. Especially when Grady and Luka came back in with Jake and Jasper looking way too calm. That quiet, collected kind of calm that means something has already been decided.

Jasper won’t stop cracking his knuckles. Grady has that same terrifying little half grin still sitting on his face. Luka looks like he wants Denver to line up single file. And Jake—Jake is silent.

Which somehow feels worse than all of them. Yeah. There is no chance in hell those two didn’t tell them. Not with the way Jake’s jaw has been ticking for the last five minutes.

The room settles when he steps forward. Pads rustle. Tape gets tossed aside. Helmets are grabbed. Every guy’s attention shifts to their captain. Jake plants his feet in the center of the room, eyes sweeping over his team slowly, methodically.

When he speaks, his voice is calm. Too calm.

“This is our house.” A few helmets knock against stalls as guys straighten. Jake points toward the hallway leading to theice. “They do not come in here and get comfortable.” His tone sharpens. “They do not get one fucking inch.” A low rumble of agreement moves through the room.

“If they push—” He pauses. His eyes go darker. “We hit.”

More nods. More focused breathing.

“If they chirp, we chirp louder. If they take a shot, we finish it. If they think they can come into this building and take anything from us—” His jaw clenches. “We take blood.”

A few guys bark out sharp laughs. Sticks slap against the rubber floor. Energy spikes instantly. Violent. Controlled.

Exactly what a pregame speech is supposed to do. But standing here listening—I know this isn’t just hockey. Not tonight.

Not with the way Jake’s gaze flicked toward the Denver logo that is on the white board like he wanted to burn it off. Not with Jasper rolling his neck like he’s preparing for a street fight. Not with Grady looking entirely too eager. And definitely not with Luka staring at his gloves like he’s imagining Tyler’s face under them.

My eyes shift across the room. Find Maddie. She’s standing by the media corner with her camera up, filming the whole thing like she always does. Professional. Focused. Oblivious. Or at least pretending to be.

She probably thinks this is Jake doing what Jake always does—giving a hard speech before a rivalry game. She has no idea the guys that love her like family now know enough to behomicidal. No idea this speech feels a little too pointed. A little too personal.

Because by the looks Jake and Jasper wore when they walked back into this room—Grady and Luka absolutely filled them in.

Every ugly piece. My jaw tightens.

This is either going to be the best motivated game of the season—or I’m going to spend sixty minutes trying to stop my players from committing felonies.

I am absolutely going to spend this game stopping felonies. I know it before the puck even drops.

Tyler isn’t on Denver’s first line, which buys me a few opening minutes of normalcy—or at least something that looks like normalcy to everyone else in the arena.

The building is loud. Chicago-home-game loud.

Music shaking the glass. Fans pounding the boards. Luka doing his usual dramatic goalie stretch at center ice because he knows the crowd eats that shit up. Jake slapping his stick against the tunnel wall to get the lower bowl screaming.

From the outside, it looks like every other game in our house. But I know better. Because I can see it. The tension sitting under my players’ skin.

Jasper keeps circling too close to the Denver bench during line changes, his eyes flicking over there every chance he gets like he’s waiting.

Grady’s checks are harder than they need to be three minutes in. Luka is in his crease bouncing like he wants someone to test him.