The Ice Queen and Her Three Captains.

SHOCK

Megan POV



Seeing Cole on the ice, a lot of feelings ran through me. The tension between him and Theo was obvious. The referee blew the whistle, and before we knew it, Theo already had the puck. But Kim cheered for Cole instead. I couldn't fully bring myself to support Theo completely either. I wanted him to win, yes, but I also didn't want Cole to lose, per se.

The game went on. Theo was really good, Cole as well, but by the end of the second period, Theo had already scored two goals. I could see the frustration on Cole's face. I knew he felt the pressure from his team and the audience. After a while, Cole scored a goal, and I felt a little relieved, but also worried, because I knew Theo could score again; he was practically running the ice.

I sat glued to my chair, split between the two men. I watched closely as Theo collided with Cole. It was clearly just an accident, but within minutes, it blew out of proportion, clearly from Cole's side. I noticed the referee delayed blowing the whistle to cut them off. After they were finally split up by their teammates and the referee, the game resumed. This time, Cole was fueled with rage and a bit more aggressive on the rink.

He held the puck, and everyone was expecting a goal, but he had to pass it to his teammate. When he looked up, I felt like he was looking directly at me in that moment, though I couldn't say for sure if he was looking at me. I sat still for those few seconds, and before I could blink, the defender's shoulder caught Cole high as he turned, and his helmet snapped backward before Cole hit the ice hard. He didn't seem to be moving.

"Cole!" The name tore out of me before I even realized I'd stood up. Around me, the entire stadium seemed to hold its breath. The arena, which had been roaring just seconds ago, dropped into something heavier that strange, suspended quiet that happens when everyone realizes something is actually wrong.

He wasn't moving.

Medical staff were already rushing onto the ice, their bright jackets cutting across the white. Players from both teams skated back, forming a loose half-circle, helmets off, heads bowed. Even Theo had stopped celebrating, his earlier grin replaced with something tighter, more serious, as he stared toward where Cole lay.

Somewhere below us, a few rows down, a woman in a Fury jersey had both hands pressed to her face, and a man beside her was already on his phone, voice rising. The whole arena felt suspended in that strange in-between, too quiet to be normal, too loud in the small ways: a dropped cup somewhere, a child asking too loudly what was happening, someone shushing them.

"Oh my god," Kim said beside me, gripping my arm. "Megan, is that"

"I know," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. My hands were shaking, and I realized I was still half-standing, half-leaning over the railing, like getting closer would somehow help.

The jumbotron flashed his number, then cut away quickly, like even the broadcast didn't want to linger on it. A replay started to play in the corner of the screen before someone in the production booth must have killed it, because it cut to a wide shot of the medical team instead.

"They're not moving him yet," Kim murmured. "That's... that's not good, right? When they don't move someone right away?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. My chest felt tight, my eyes locked on the small cluster of people on the ice, on the stretcher being wheeled out.

Five years of telling myself I'd moved on, that I was over him, that seeing his face on TV with Victoria meant nothing. And all it took was watching him lie motionless on the ice to realize how much of a lie that had been.

Cole POV

Sound came back before sight did.

Muffled voices, distant, like I was underwater again, except this time it wasn't from exhaustion or distraction. Something pressed against the side of my head, cold and rigid. The roar of the crowd was there too, but it sounded wrong, warped, like someone had slowed it down.

"Stay still, Cole, don't move your head." I tried to open my eyes. The lights above the rink were too bright, blinding white smears that made my stomach lurch. I blinked hard, and slowly, faces came into focus: Coach Daniels, kneeling beside me, his face tight with concern. Beyond him, blurry shapes of players, some from my team, some not.

"What?" My voice came out cracked, barely audible. My head throbbed, a deep, pulsing ache that radiated down into my jaw.

"Don't try to talk, just stay still. You took a hard hit," a voice said, not Coach, someone in a medical jacket, their hands steady against my neck and shoulders, keeping me from moving.

A hard hit. I tried to piece it together. The puck. My teammate is signaling. Megan. Megan.

I'd been looking at her. That's the last thing I remembered clearly: the VIP section, her face, the way the lights had caught her hair. And then nothing. Just black.

"Can you tell me your name?" the medic asked, shining a small light into my eyes.

"Cole," I managed. "Cole Winter."

"Good. Do you know what day it is?"

I opened my mouth, then hesitated. Sunday. It was Sunday. Wasn't it? The question shouldn't have felt hard, but for a second, everything felt slow, delayed, like my brain was working through static.

"...Sunday," I said finally. "Game day."

"Okay. We're going to get you onto the stretcher now, nice and easy."

As they lifted me, the world tilted, and I caught a glimpse of the stands the crowd standing, some with hands over their mouths, phones raised. Somewhere up there, in the VIP section, was Megan. I wondered, stupidly, if she was watching. If she even cared.

The thought followed me into the tunnel, into the ambulance, into the spinning dark that pulled me back under.