The final period felt like walking into a storm with no shelter.
Kane was relentless. Every shift he took, he hunted me specifically. His hits grew sharper, his words crueler. He wasn’t just playing hockey anymore—he was exorcising demons on my body.
Midway through the period, he pinned me against the glass in the corner after I won a puck battle. The impact rattled my already bruised ribs. His helmet pressed close to mine, voice low and venomous through the visor.
“Lila fought just like you,” he growled. “Same fire. Same refusal to back down. Then one hit took everything. You really think you’re different? You’re just another girl playing dress-up in men’s gear.”
The pain in my ribs flared white-hot, but it was the grief in his voice that cut deeper. This wasn’t pure hatred. It was mo
