Chapter 3 Marked
Rafe’s POV
“Think you can handle me, Navarro? Or are you here just to prove the rumors right…about being Kai’s little pussy.” Shawn mocked, then he turned away, skating to the far end of the ice.
Little pussy?
Oh, we’ll fucking see who the little pussy is.
“Navarro!” Ramirez barked. “You’re on offense. Calder’s on defense. Full ice. First to score wins. No penalties. No mercy. Let’s go!”
I skated to the other far end of the ice, trying to shake off nerves rattling through my legs. Shawn was already positioned at the opposite blue line, calm as hell, his stick loose in his hands as if he owned the rink.
His helmet was on, but I could still see those deep blue eyes through it—watching me like a predator sizing up its prey.
He tapped his stick once on the ice. Once. Twice. Like a countdown.
“Still waiting on that apology, Navarro.”
I gritted my teeth. “Still waiting for you to earn one, Captain.”
I inhaled a deep breath, dropping into position as I waited for Coach Ramirez to blow the whistle.
FWEEEEET!!
The sound of the whistle thundered through instantly, and I exploded forward. But Shawn didn’t rush, he skated backward, his stick low, controlling the gap like he owned every inch of ice between us.
“You’re going to learn the hard way, Navarro,” he hissed, low enough for only me to hear. “This isn’t junior hockey…you’re playing with men now, boy.”
I deked his left strike, then turned right. But he matched me without effort, his stick blade flashing out to shove mine aside. I pulled it back, spun, and tried to run past him on the outside, but he slammed me toward the boards like it was nothing.
“Pathetic,” he said, voice calm, as if he was almost bored. “All that fire and nothing to show for it? No wonder they say you’re just Kai’s little problem child in a bigger jersey.”
The name hit me like a punch to the face, adrenaline rushing through me as red flooded my vision. Before he could react, I dropped my shoulder and drove straight at him—recklessly, without mercy.
He absorbed the hit, then turned with me, and shoved me into the boards hard enough to rattle my teeth. The puck slipped free, and he scooped it up, skating backward again, his eyes locked on mine through his helmet.
“Lesson one,” he said, circling me now, the puck dancing on his blade. “You don’t belong here until you learn respect.”
“Here’s another lesson for you too,” I shot back, circling the rink with him. “Is that I don’t give a fuck about your opinion.”
I lunged for the puck, but he pulled it away, without effort and deked me so fast I almost lost my balance. He skated past me—slow, deliberate—like he was giving me time to feel absolutely worthless.
“Apologize,” he said again. “Or I’ll make this last all day.”
“Fuck you and your apology,” I snarled, chasing him down the ice.
He stopped suddenly, spun, and came at me full speed. I braced for the hit, but our bodies collided—hard, shoulder to shoulder. He drove me back, his stick hooked around mine, pinning me against the boards again.
“You’re nothing,” he hissed, his face inches from mine through the helmet. “Just a loudmouth with a chip on his shoulder with nothing to show for it…I’ll bury you right here.”
I shoved back, hard. “Try it.”
A humourless laughter tore out of him—low, dangerous. “I already am.”
We broke apart instantly, the puck still between us. I circled fast, but he matched me, step for step, never letting me get a clean shot. Every time I tried to break away, he was there, talking shit the whole time.”
“I’m going to make you wish you’d apologized to me in that hallway, Navarro.”
“Guess you’ll have to force it out of me then, Captain.”
The words lit something in him, nothing funny about the look in his eyes as he charged at me again. I waited until the last second—then pulled the puck back, turned, and slipped past him on the inside.
He tried to reach for me, but missed instead. I flew toward the net, my pulse pounding so hard I swear he could hear it even from afar.
One shot was all I needed to prove him wrong…to prove everyone wrong. Before my brain could think, I snapped my wrist.
The puck flew—clean, hard, sliding through Shawn's defense. It slipped between his pads and hit the back of the net with a thundering sound.
THAWCK!
For a moment, silence swallowed the entire rink. I froze, staring at the net like I couldn’t believe what just happened right then.
No way.
No, no….that didn’t just happen.
Did I actually just—?
I just scored.
On Shawn Calder!
The captain.
The untouchable golden boy who was supposed to bury me in the ice five minutes ago.
Behind me, the murmurs started, low at first but loud enough for me to hear.
“Yo… did he just score on Calder?”
“That was a clean shot!”
“The rookie just embarrassed the captain.”
“Calder never lets anyone beat him on drills…looks like that just changed.”
Shawn didn’t move. He stood at the center of the rink, staring at the puck in the net like it had personally betrayed him.
Along the boards, Coach Ramirez was frozen, his clipboard hovering mid-air. For a long second, he just stood there, his eyes flickering between Shawn and me.
“Well, I’ll be damned, “A slow grin tugged at his mouth as he stepped forward, his voice echoing across the rink. “That was a hell of a shot, Navarro.”
I swallowed hard, still half-expecting someone to laugh and say it was a fluke. But the puck was still in the net.
But then—
Shawn began skating slowly, stopping beside me. His chest rose and fell heavily—controlled—but I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands gripped his stick too tightly.
“One goal,” he growled. “One fucking goal doesn’t mean anything.” Those blue eyes locked on mine—cold, furious, humiliated.
I met his stare, head-on. “It means I just beat you.”
“You think this is over? You think you just won something?” He straightened, his voice dropping to a low, and dangerous whisper. “I’m going to make your life a living hell here, Navarro.”
Then he leaned in closer, “And the worst part? I’m your captain…which means you’ll never be able to escape me.”
“Navarro!…Calder! Get off the ice.” Coach Ramirez’s voice cut through the tension, as if he’d sensed the storm brewing. I skated to the bench, my legs shaking from the adrenaline still crashing through me.
I’d won.
But Shawn’s last words still echoed louder than the goal itself.
Because he wasn’t done with me.
Not even close.