The silver lining was that Derek wasn’t on the ice, so I had one less person to worry about.

“Think anyone’s going to take a penalty?”

“Nah,” Shiv said. “No one threw any hits.”

Eventually, the referees negotiated some kind of peace, and the players filtered back to their respective benches. One steered Chase toward the Falcons bench, but Chase shrugged off the ref’s arm and headed off the ice on his own.

My breathing resumed a more normal pattern and the tightness in my shoulders relaxed a notch. It was almost the end of the second period, so maybe things would cool down during the break. Then there would only be twenty minutes of game time to get through without bloodshed. God willing.

Instead of heading to the Bulldogs’ bench, though, Luke made a sharp turn and skated over to Chase, who was halfway to the Falcons bench. They were side by side on open ice, separated from their teammates and the officials.

My heart leapt into my throat.

Luke leaned in close and made a comment. Chase shook his head, and they had a quick verbal back and forth. In a flash, Chase’s expression went from irritated to homicidal. He threw his stick, dropped his gloves, and clocked Luke square in the face. Before Luke could so much as react to the hit, Chase grabbed him by the jersey and tossed him onto the ice like he was weightless.

No, no, no.

I watched as the official blew his whistle and sped over to them, wedging himself between their bodies while holding Chase back. Or attempting to, anyway, as Chase pushed against him to get to Luke. A second linesman skated up, trying to help him restrain Chase with limited success.

Luke scrambled to his feet and backed up a few strides, stumbling as he went. He didn’t fight. Ever. Hell, he didn’t know how to fight. Which meant Chase would destroy him and get himself into serious trouble in the process.

Dallas hopped over the boards and joined the linemen, trying to talk Chase down while restraining him. Chase shook his head, all the while yelling at Luke. I had never seen Chase look that mad. There was no way they wouldn’t kick him out of the game. Maybe suspend him for multiple games.

After another split second of watching and praying, I couldn’t take it anymore.

I stood and ran down the stairs to ice-level. “Stop it!” I banged on the glass. I couldn’t get his attention, but I didn’t stop. “Carter!”

Finally, Chase turned and looked in my direction. Our eyes locked, and I made a “cut it out” gesture. “Please?” I mouthed.

He nodded, and he stopped resisting the linesman. Head down and shoulders slumped, he skated off the side and headed for the locker rooms. I climbed the stairs back up to our seats, exchanging a look with Siobhan.