“Do I need to spell it out for you?” I lowered my voice so the other players wouldn’t hear. “I’ll break your fucking legs, move on to your arms, and go from there. Your pathetic career will be over before it starts.”

Morrison’s expression went blank, and he blinked at me slowly. Too many big words to comprehend, I guess.

I skated closer. “Are we clear? Or should I start now?”

“Carter!” Coach Miller yelled. He threw both arms up in a WTF gesture.

“Watch your ass,” I bit out before turning away.

I skated back into position, and the linesman finally appeared and dropped the puck. Dallas won the playoff, sending the puck back to me. I caught it and skated up the side before passing it to Davis.

Or trying to pass it, anyway, because my aim was off, and the puck traveled way over to the left—inadvertently turning over to a forward on the Bulldogs instead. He flew straight down to our end on a breakaway, hammering out a slapshot that Ty barely managed to block.

A botched play that was fully my fault, all because I couldn’t complete a basic backhand pass.

Fuck me.

Morrison got in my head.

And now he knew I had a weakness.

* * *

BAILEY

I perched on the edge of my seat, my entire body tensed like a bowstring. Because attending a match between the Bulldogs and the Falcons wasn’t emotionally draining enough on its own, the game tonight had been incredibly tight—and physical. Like both sides were out for blood.

With less than two minutes left in the second period, both teams were practically dead on their feet, exhausted from beating the crap out of each other on the ice for the previous thirty-eight minutes of play. There had been more hits and infractions tonight than I’d seen in ages. Chase was obviously hitting anything that moved, but the other players were unusually aggressive too. Derek was on some kind of rampage, which was completely out of character for him. Even some of the tamer players were piling on. The Bulldogs were targeting Ward in particular, probably because he was their most skilled opponent. And they were going after Chase because, well, Chase.

The officials had started letting some of the less serious penalties slide, probably so they weren’t playing four-on-four for the entire twenty minutes each period.

After a turnover, Chase got a hold of the puck on their end and brought it up. Paul headed in his direction, accelerating with the obvious intent to initiate a massive hit. My breath caught and I braced myself, but Chase glanced over in the nick of time. He pivoted out of the way, and Paul slammed into the boards at top speed, making a loud crunch.

I burst out laughing. Good thing we weren’t near Amelia.

“Oof.” Siobhan cringed, biting her raspberry pink lip. “Tough break for that guy.”