Chapter 56 56: Legacies or Liabilities
Sloane didn't wait for Saint to get comfortable. She tapped a stylus against her tablet, the rhythmic click-click-click sounding like a countdown.
"The Consortium doesn't invest in soap operas, gentlemen. We invest in legacies," Sloane began, her eyes shifting from Saint's bruised face to Baby's haunted expression. "Currently, you aren't legacies. You are liabilities. The elevator brawl, the missed practices, the... domestic entanglements." She paused, her gaze flicking toward the hallway where Kora had presumably been tucked away. "It's messy. And the Apex Hockey Consortium is a vacuum—it sucks up talent and discards the mess."
She stood up, walking toward the window, her reflection ghosting over the glass like a reaper.
"The Board was ready to pull the plug on both of you this morning. They don't see 'synergy.' They see two boys who are more interested in hurting each other than winning a championship."
Baby's jaw tightened. "We're winning our games," he muttered, his voice low but defensive.
Sloane turned, her smile sharp enough to draw blood. "Winning games is for high schoolers, Mr. Danvers. We are talking about the global stage. If you can't control your emotions in a living room, how will you handle a stadium of fifty thousand people screaming for your failure?"
She walked back to the table and laid down a single, thick document embossed with the gold THC seal.
"Here is the 'dire' part," she whispered. "The Consortium has issued a Unified Contract. From this moment on, your statistics, your public image, and your eligibility are no longer individual. You are being tethered."
Saint frowned, his heart sinking into his stomach. "Tethered? What does that mean?"
"It means if one of you fails a drug test, you both lose your spot. If one of you gets into a fight at a bar, you both get suspended. If one of you is deemed 'unfit' for the league..." she looked directly at Baby, "...the other is disqualified by association. You are now a single entity in our books. You share a career. You share a future. And if you can't make this 'best-buddy' charade a reality, you will share the same grave of 'what-could-have-beens.'"
The silence that followed was deafening. Baby looked at Saint, and for the first time, the rivalry wasn't about who was better. It was the terrifying realisation that they were now shackled together. Saint's "low iron" vision returned. He wasn't just responsible for his own perfection anymore; he was the keeper of Baby's chaos, and Baby was the anchor to Saint's rigid world.
"One more thing," Sloane added, her voice dropping to a chilling silk. "Each day, THC will need a tag on socials from you both. A perfect picture to sell to our opponents that we have the most responsible players in our team. Failure to tag us is failure to get through our gates." She informed calmly, he eyes moving from one man to the other.
Saint held Baby's gaze. He could feel them falling ten thousand steps back, thanks to Sloane's visit.
The door opened and Nickel walked into the living room, looking like he'd run a marathon to get there, his presence diffusing the tension that was almost making it hard for the captains to breathe.
"Ms. Sloane," Nickel bowed his head as he stood in front of the closed door.
"You're right on time, Coach, please, come," Sloane invited.
Nickel walked over, his eyes glancing over to his boys, who looked like they both had dry bread stuffed down their throats.
"I was just about to talk about your efficacy, Coach. Do tell—" she paused, walking over to Nickel and handing over her tablet to him.
"We have handled the scandal, but I'm here to confirm that it's not what it seems. If it is—" she glanced at the captains, "I will have to withdraw our investment with charges to your school for damages." She said in a completely soft voice, the tone spreading dread into Saint and Baby's limbs.
But no one was as shook as the coach.
Nickel's hands trembled slightly, and he stared at the video on the tablet, visible sweat trickling down his face, his chest heaving in shock.
"Ms. Sloane–"
"Ask them now, Coach. Like I said, we invest in legacies, not liabilities," she stated coldly.
Nickel gulped and faced his captains who were forced to sit together.
He glanced between them and the tablet, the question feeling quite heavy in his tongue.
The captains felt the change of air. They couldn't even look at each other; the fear of slipping in front of the mighty THC CEO gripped them like a vice. They could only sit rigidly, praying for whatever was in that tablet not to lead to their demise.
Mr. Kross, Mr. Danvers—" Nickel called, taking a long breath to steady himself, his eyes looking everywhere but at them. He looked older than he had that morning, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the tablet Sloane had just slid into his hands.
On the screen, the blue light of the pool shimmered in a looped, grainy playback. It was unmistakable. The way Saint had pinned Baby against the tile. The way Baby hadn't fought him. The way the world had ceased to exist for both of them in that one, forbidden kiss.
Nickel finally looked up, his voice trembling with a mixture of disappointment and fear.
"I was told I was coaching two rivals who needed to learn to pass the puck," Nickel whispered, the silence in the room turning razor-sharp. He looked at the video, then back to the two boys sitting in the wreckage of their secrets.
"So, tell me... was the 'hatred' between you two the only lie you were telling the Consortium, or is this kiss the lie you're telling yourselves?"
The question took the remaining oxygen out of the room. It wasn't just about the rules anymore; it was about the fundamental nature of their "synergy."
Sloane leaned back, her polished flint eyes tracking the way Saint's hand instinctively twitched toward Baby's on the sofa. "A fascinating performance," she remarked, her voice a chilling silk. "But the THC doesn't pay for romance, and we certainly don't pay for distractions. So, which is it? Are you co-captains... or are you a scandal waiting to break my bank?"
The blood drained from Baby's face, his heart forgetting how to beat for a few seconds before it started rattling against his ribs.
His hands trembled and everything blurred before him.
No, this can't be happening.
Sloane was never supposed to see the pool video. He thought it was deleted, or was it not?
He gritted his teeth, holding back the stinging tears from his eyes.
If he lost this, too, then, there was really nothing left in the world for him.