The VIP corridor is still half-empty when they arrive.
Their footsteps echo off the polished concrete, the sound bouncing back at them in the low amber light. Then the tunnel ends—and the arena opens up like a held breath finally released.
Mia squints instinctively. The ice is blinding, white and sharp even before the overhead lights have fully powered up.
She hears the crowd before she fully sees it.
"Wow." The word slips out before she can stop it.
She'd assumed they were early.
But the stands are already packed. Thousands of people filling every tier, a sea of red and white on their side, deep McGill blue rippling across the opposite end like a slow wave.
The three of them find their row. Dead center, directly above the Raiders' player bench. Close enough to hear the scrape of bl
