Chapter 142 You're an animal

Chapter 142 You're an animal
Hayes

Play the game.

The words echoed inside my skull like a broken record, dulling the blinding glare of the stadium halogens as my skates sliced deep, clean grooves into the fresh ice.

The second period had begun, and I was forcing myself into a state of absolute, clinical detachment. I locked my jaw so tight the bone behind my ears ached, my fingers fused around the composite shaft of my stick. I didn't look at the scoreboard. I didn't look at the rival bench.

Most importantly, I didn't look at number fourteen. Noah Fieldstone, the bastard skating under the ghost name of Brookes, was hovering near the right wing.

Every part of my primitive instinct was screaming at me to drop my stick, skate across the red line, and wrap my hands around his throat until his ribs cracked against the ice.

He was the mastermind behind that stupid account. He caused Tegan pain. He threatened the team. He had sat at my kitchen counter pretending to be a loyal teammate. I should've known something was wrong with him when Diablo hissed at his boots because the animal had more structural intuition than I did. But then the Chihuahua was aggressive with everyone.

I had given Tegan my word in the locker room. I had looked at her pale face, felt her hands trembling against my chest, and promised her I wouldn’t compromise the team. And as their Captain, I can't cause them any trouble. I was supposed to be looking out for them.

I skated like a machine, my broad shoulders dropping into a low, aggressive center of gravity as I intercepted a sloppy Westwoods pass in the neutral zone.

I cut through their defensive line with long, explosive strides, dragged the puck across the slot, and fired a hard, heavy wrist shot straight into the top shelf of the net.

The red light behind the goal exploded. The horn wailed, a long, deafening roar that brought the home crowd back from the dead.

Westwoods: 2. Ice Kings: 1.

"Good shit, Captain!" Jax yelled, skating past me and slamming his gloved hand against my shoulder pad to celebrate.

I didn't answer. I just skated back toward the center circle for the face-off, actively keeping my eyes fixed on the ice, avoiding the right wing entirely. I was holding the line. I was keeping the beast on a leash.

Until the line collapsed.

The puck was dumped deep into our zone, and as the whistle blew for an offside violation, the players slowed down, their blades spraying a fine mist of white ice into the humid air. I turned to head back toward our bench for a line change, my chest expanding heavily against my shoulder pads.

"You need to keep your head in the game, Captain," a voice murmured calmly from behind my shoulder.

It was smooth, quiet, and completely unbothered. Noah skated past me, his posture relaxed, his brown hair damp under his helmet. He just adjusted the tape on his stick, his tone dripping with the supportive, "nice-guy" helpfulness he’d been using to manipulate us for months.

I stopped dead in my tracks, the steel of my blades hissing sharply against the surface. A cold, murderous glare snapped onto my profile, my eyes narrowing into chips of pitch-black flint. The beast inside my chest began tearing at its chains, the sheer velocity of my rage making the air in my lungs turn to pure fire.

"Captain's just distracted today," some idiot chimed in from the defensive line, completely oblivious to the war happening under the helmets.

Another idiot let out a low, breathless chuckle as he skated toward the bench. "It’s obviously because of his girl. He spent the whole first period looking at her empty seat like a lost puppy."

Noah stopped skating. He turned his head slightly. "Well," Noah mumbled, his voice low enough that only the immediate line could hear it, his tone dripping with a sick, toxic satisfaction.

"Maybe she finally came to her senses. Can't blame a girl for realizing she shouldn't tie herself to a violent animal who only knows how to destroy things."

The world around me violently faded into a deafening, high-pitched ring, the stadium lights tunneling down until the only thing left in existence was the innocent looking, mocking face of the boy who thought he deserved Tegan more than I do. I've always had a problem with his stupid crush on her. But knowing his true identity just added fuel to the fire burning in me.

I skated directly into his personal space, my massive 6'4" frame completely eclipsing him under the halogens. I bunched my gloved hand into the heavy fabric of his jersey, jerking him forward until our visors were almost touching.

"Repeat what you just fucking said," I growled, my voice a deep, animalistic snarl that didn't sound human at all.

The veins in my neck were bulging violently against my skin, my chest heaving against his pads. "Say her name again, Noah. I dare you."

Noah didn't flinch. He let out a low, chilling chuckle, his eyes turning cold and vengeful beneath his helmet as he looked right into my wild, unhinged face. "I'm just saying the truth, Captain. You're an animal. And animals belong in a cage."

I didn't wait for him to finish the syllable. I dropped my composite stick, the dark wood clattering uselessly against the ice, and launched my entire physical weight forward.

I drove my heavy, leather-bound fist directly into the center of his plastic visor. The impact shattered the plastic with a sharp, explosive pop, the force sending Noah crashing violently backward onto the hard ice.

He didn't get a chance to recover.
I dove on top of him, pinning his shoulders down with the full, brutal weight of my frame. I aggressively ripped his helmet off his head, tossing it heavily across the rink, and began driving my bare, tattered hockey knuckles repeatedly into his face with a feral, bloodthirsty rage that had absolutely nothing to do with sports.

"Hayes! Stop! Get off him!" the linesmen screamed, their whistles blowing frantically in a deafening, continuous loop that bounced off the arena rafters.

The stadium descended into absolute, roaring chaos. The music abruptly cut out, replaced by the shocked, terrified screams of people watching the show unfold in front of them.

Players from the Westwoods bench flooded the ice, our own teammates dove into the slot, and coaches were screaming at the top of their lungs, but I was completely deaf to the world.

Noah was bleeding beneath me, his nose shattered, his eyes wild with panic as he tried to shield his face, but my fists kept falling with the precise, rhythmic violence of a machine.

Every single ounce of the torment my grandparents had left me with, every tear Tegan had cried in her apartment, and the ghost of Ethan’s death was channeled into the concrete strength of my knuckles.

"Tear him off! Use force!" the main official barked.

Four separate, massive campus security guards deployment onto the ice, their boots slipping on the surface as they violently threw their weights over my broad back. They grabbed my arms, wrapping their heavy restraints around my chest, trying desperately to break my leverage.

I thrashed against them, snarling like a caged wolf, my face covered in a spray of blood that wasn't mine, looking entirely like the monster I had tried so hard to hide from her.

"Hayes! Stop it! Hayes!"

The voice broke through the thumping, chaotic ringing in my ears like a diamond blade cutting through glass.

I froze, my fist hovering mid-air, my knuckles dripping red onto the white ice. I slowly cracked my head back, my chest expanding violently against my pads as my wild, eyes tracked past the scrambling referees, past the flashing media cameras, straight toward the thick plexiglass barrier behind the penalty box.

Tegan was standing right there against the glass. She had her hands slammed flat against the barrier, her face completely pale, her dark hair a messy tangle around her shoulders. The oversized jersey was drowning her frame, but the look in her eyes, the raw, piercing, and utterly devastated horror bleeding through her pupils, hit my chest with the force of a lethal executioner's blade.

She was screaming my name through the glass, her voice cracking with a profound, breaking hurt that completely shattered the remaining fragments of my dark, victorious fury, leaving me entirely undone in the middle of my own slaughter.