Chapter 89: The New Lineup

Aveline’s POV

The Crestwood locker room was completely silent. The usual music was turned off. Nobody was joking around or throwing tape across the stalls.

Coach Hale stood at the front of the room by the whiteboard. He was pacing back and forth, his hands shoved deep into his track jacket pockets. The atmosphere felt heavy. The news of Kieran’s broken leg and cracked ribs had already spread through the entire academy. The captain might be officially gone for the finals.

I sat in my usual stall. My hands were tightly gripping the edge of the wooden bench. My lungs felt tight under my chest binding. I looked down at the floor, trying to focus on my breathing.

“Listen up,” Coach Hale snapped, slamming his hand against the whiteboard to get our attention.

Every player looked up instantly.

“Hampton is out,” Coach Hale said, his voice flat and stressed. “The scouts are still coming to the finals. The national television cameras will still be broadcasting the game. We cannot look like a headless chicken out there. We need a new center to lead the first line.”

I felt a sudden wave of heat rush to my face.

From across the room, Theo Mercer was staring directly at me. His eyes held a strange, confident look. He adjusted his shoulder, a small smirk playing on his lips.

With Kieran out of the way, Theo clearly thought he could easily slide right back into my circle. He thought I would look to him for protection again.

“Carter,” Coach Hale called out, pointing his marker straight at me. “You are moving to permanent center for the first line. You scored the winning breakaway goal in the qualifier. You have the speed. You are running the power play now.”

“Yes, Coach,” I rasped, dropping my voice down.

Theo’s smirk vanished instantly. His face went bright red with a mix of shock and pure jealousy. He gripped his seat so hard.

“Thorne,” Coach Hale continued, looking at Cassian.

“You are moving up to the first defensive pair to cover Carter’s blind spots. I want a physical game from you. Nobody touches our center. Clear?”

“Clear, Coach,” Cassian said quietly.

Cassian did not look at the coach. Instead, he stood up from his stall and walked over to my bench. He purposefully sat right down in the empty space next to me. He leaned back, his big frame casting a shadow over my stall.

It was a clear message to the rest of the locker room, especially to Silas, and Barrett. "Asher" was not alone.

Practice on the ice was brutal. Coach Hale pushed us twice as hard to make up for Kieran’s absence. My legs were burning, and my throat felt completely dry by the time the final whistle blew.

After practice, the rest of the varsity guys packed up their gear and hurried out to catch the school buses. I stayed behind, pretending to fix the tape on my hockey stick just to avoid walking out with the crowd.

I wanted the locker room to empty out completely.

When the doors finally shut and the room went quiet, I stood up and walked toward the equipment room exit.

A shadow moved in the narrow hallway.

Cassian Thorne was leaning against the wall near the metal doors. He was still wearing his training jersey, his dark eyes watching me calmly. He did not look menacing. Since we had become friends, his unsettling energy had turned into a quiet, reliable presence.

He looked around the empty corridor, making sure the coaching staff and the other players were entirely gone. Then, he stepped forward, putting his large frame between me and the exit.

“You did well out there today, Carter,” Cassian said, his voice a low rumble.

“Thanks,” I muttered, keeping my voice low. “The pressure is getting high.”

Cassian stepped a bit closer, his expression turning serious. He looked straight into my eyes, and the casual tone vanished from his voice.

“I checked the medical logs from months ago,”

Cassian whispered. “I looked into the specific game where my brother got hurt.”

My heart did a violent flip against my ribs. I froze, holding my breath.

“I know you want answers about Asher,” Cassian continued, his tone flat and absolute. “And I want to know who really know the reason my brother was hurt during that play. I am done letting the past sit in the dark.”

He paused, leaning in slightly so his words would not echo down the hall.

“I am in,” Cassian said, dropping the bomb. “I agreed to help you. We are going to find out exactly what happened to Oliver.”