(Kane)
The championship stage felt bigger, brighter, and heavier than any rink I had ever stepped on.
The arena was packed — lights glaring down on the fresh sheet of ice, the roar of the crowd vibrating through the boards like thunder. This was the first real test of the postseason, the opening round that would set the tone for everything that came after. My Wolves were ready. I was supposed to be ready. But every time I looked across the ice, my eyes found her.
Danica Jones.
She wore the Harrison blue and gold like armor, skating warm-ups with that same fierce grace that had haunted me for months. The bouquet I had given her flashed in my mind — the way she had held it, fingers tight around the stems, not throwing it back. That small mercy had cracked something open inside me that I
