The roar of the Paris arena was deafening, a wall of sound that vibrated through the reinforced glass of the VIP box.
Elara stood at the edge of the suite, her hands pressed flat against the glass, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Below her, the ice was a war zone.
It was the final period of the Lyon Olympiques versus the Paris Phantoms, and the game had devolved into sheer, brutal violence.
But Elara wasn't watching the puck. She was watching the massive, terrifying shadow tearing through the opposing defensive line.
Lucian was a monster on the ice. Stripped of his billionaire suits, clad in his dark away-game jersey and heavy armor, he moved with a speed and aggression that defied human physics. He didn't just check players into the boards; he shattered thei
