Monday, 6:30 AM.
A full week had passed since since Adrian Voss had “assigned” him to be under Chase, but normal was what he needed to be, with no Adrian Voss and no late-night threats wrapped in polite conversation. Just hockey.
The rink was already alive by the time he stepped onto the ice. Twenty six guys on the ice. The cold hit him first, cutting through the lingering fatigue in his bones, then came the sound, skates carving into ice, sticks clashing, bodies colliding with controlled aggression. The rhythm of it all was familiar enough to anchor him, even if everything else in his life felt like it was slipping further out of control.
Something had shifted after Saturday clash with Chase. Nobody said it, but everyone felt it. It wasn’t quite division, not unity either, just awaren
