Chapter 143: Don’t you dare hurt him again
Rhys
Kayden had fallen. He had been blatantly tripped; one of the Westbridge defensemen had stuck out a leg on purpose, sending Kayden sprawling hard onto the frozen surface.
He slid several feet, his stick skittering away toward the boards, and for a terrifying second, he didn’t move.
My first instinct was to act fast by slamming the defenseman, but I remembered what had happened last night and didn’t want a repeat.
I ignored the impulse and clenched my fists tightly because all I could think of was burying my knuckles into the throat of whoever had touched him.
I took two hard strides toward the man, my vision blurring with rage. The thought of smashing my stick over his head reoccurred in my mind, but I held back.
I remembered the words Kayden had told me the last time we spoke.
I seethed, my chest heaving as I watched the Falcons defenseman look down at Kayden and let out a short, mocking laugh.
"Get up, backuper," the guy spat, skating right over Kayden’s discarded stick. "Or are you waiting for the Captain to come pick you up and kiss it better?"
Kayden didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look up at the guy. He just placed his gloved hands on the ice and pushed himself up. His movements were stiff, lacking that fluid grace that usually defined him, and he was still shaking.
Even as he found his footing and reached for his stick, those tremors were racking his body. He didn’t fight back; he didn’t even shove the guy away. He just turned his back and skated toward his position.
I stood there, frozen in the middle of the rink, watching him.
My jaw was clamped so tight I thought my teeth might actually crack. It was a physical ache—the need to protect him, to scream at him to stand up for himself. But I stayed out of it. I stayed in my lane, just like they told me to do.
As I watched the Falcons players exchange smug looks—knowing they could touch him without consequence—I realized that staying out of it might be the hardest thing I’d ever have to do in my life.
"Don’t get involved, Rhys. Whatever happens out there, you stay in the game. Don’t give them a reason to bench you and remember, we have to make it seem like we are not together."
Those words resounded in my head, followed by the coach’s warning from the locker room: "They have attacked you, so I need you to fight harder against them."
Those were his words, and for what they had done to Kayden, I was going to show them exactly why I was called the Captain of the Northern Avalanche—the Ice Prince who had led the team to victory for years.
I forced myself to stop and dragged my skates into the ice so hard I felt the vibration rattle my teeth. It took every ounce of power I possessed to keep my hands at my sides and to keep from crossing that line.
I let out a groan as the referee blew the whistle for a few seconds as we skated backwards.
The puck dropped again, but I didn’t care—especially not at that moment.
My eyes were locked on the defenseman who had pushed Kayden. I made sure I kept my sights set on him. He also had his eyes on Kayden, as if he held a personal vendetta.
I knew he was plotting something. What was it? What could it be?
I couldn’t help but imagine what had gone wrong and why he had deliberately pushed Kayden to the ground for no reason. It made me remember how Kayden had reacted when the coach announced that our next opponent was the Westbridge Falcons. I was desperate to find out what had happened between them.
While my eyes were on the defenseman, I suddenly saw their left winger heading toward Kayden to trip him, but this time, he didn’t succeed.
Kayden didn’t fall. He was able to slide beside him and ended up pushing the winger to the ground instead.
A snort escaped my lips before I could hold it.
Jaxson appeared from behind me, took the puck from the winger, and passed it toward me.
The moment the rubber met the tape of my stick, I felt a surge of cold, focused electricity. I didn’t care about the scoreboard. I didn’t care about the thousands of screaming fans or the commentators watching my every move from the booth.
I rushed forward toward their defense, my skates biting into the ice with a loud crunch. I wasn’t aiming to win the zone or set up a play; instead, all I could think of was paying back the defenseman who had pushed Kayden to the ground. The guy was already moving, trying to reset his gap, and his eyes widened as he realized I was coming straight for him.
He thought I was going to deke—that I was going to use my reach to go around him—but he was a fool.
I stayed low, my center of gravity shifting as I built up a terrifying amount of momentum. I remembered the warning, and yes, I was going to follow it, but that defenseman had hurt the love of my life and I was not going to let him go.
I was going to play him exactly the way the manual said a Captain should.
At the final second, I shifted my weight to my outside edge, making it look like I was pulling a wide-angled drive toward the net.
The defenseman rushed toward me, and that was his death warrant. With the puck safely protected on my backhand, I dropped my lead shoulder and drove upward with every ounce of strength in my legs.
The impact was immediate and loud. It was perfectly timed and executed with the kind of precision that left no room for a referee to blow a whistle.
The defenseman launched forward and hit the boards with a sickening thump that rattled the glass in its frame, sending a vibration through the entire bench. He crumpled to the ice like a discarded ragdoll, his stick spinning away into the corner.
I chuckled, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t even look back to see if he was breathing. I spun away from the boards in the blink of an eye, keeping the puck glued to my stick as I circled back toward the high slot.
To anyone watching, it was just a dominant physical play—the Captain of the Northern Avalanche asserting his territory in a professional way—but it wasn’t. I was letting him know that he should have never touched Kayden.
The net was left defenseless in front of me, and not even the goalie could stop me. With a roar of effort, I fired the puck hard into the net.
The buzzer sounded, signaling that the first period was over.
The crowd went absolutely ballistic. The commentators were losing their minds, praising the goal as a great comeback after missing the last few games.
"It seems that Rhys Calder is back to being the man of the ice!"
I didn’t pay attention to them or the screaming crowd.
Before my teammates could even rush toward me to celebrate, I skated slowly toward the defenseman who was still trying to find his lungs on the ice.
As I skated past him, I leaned down until our eyes met and whispered, "Don’t you dare touch him again."
I didn’t wait for a response. I turned and joined the huddle of my teammates, but my eyes were locked on Kayden.
For the first time tonight, those flint-hard eyes showed a spark of something else, and they were filled with hope.
As our eyes met, I smiled at him and he smiled back, then turned toward the defenseman who was still on the ground. I winked at him, letting him know that I had fought on his behalf, and I didn’t even expect that he would wink back at me.
I burst into laughter, still staring at him, until I was blocked by Jaxson and Miller who rushed toward me.
"That was a crazy goal, Calder. You came back strong," Jaxson praised me.
I chuckled, tightening my grip on my stick for a moment, then smirked. "I mean, that’s why I’m called the Ice Captain."
Miller rolled his eyes and nodded in response. "We know that. And now, we will fight harder until the very end and win against the Westbridge Falcons."
"Wait..." Jaxson raised his hands, stopping me from replying. "Aren’t they called the Westbridge Falcons?"
I shrugged.
"Whatever they are called, all I know is that they are all going down!" Luca shouted as he joined us, clapping his gloved hands.
I turned toward Kayden again and noticed that he was speaking to Philips.
Then I turned back to the defenseman skating toward their tunnel and saw him glaring at Kayden.