Page 169 of Top Shelf

Around me, confusion spreads through the arena. Fans are standing now, their phones out and cameras rolling. Nobody iswatching the game anymore; they’re watching Lucian. The commentators fan the flames, talking about a rivalry boiling over, about Lucian’s well-known streak for recklessness.

Except this is not Lucian’s normal behavior. He’s reckless, yes, but he would never compromise a game—compromise his position on the ice—to go aftera teammate, regardless of the rivalry between them.

I’ve seen Lucian angry before, but I haveneverseen him like this. He’s practically foaming at the mouth as he hounds Isaac, ripping away from the players holding him back just so he can get another shot at him.

Whatever this is, it feels different. It feelspersonal.

Searching the sea of purple jerseys, I find Ronan and Silas in the thick of it as they try to peel Lucian away, but every time they manage to create an inch of space, Lucian breaks free and closes the gap.

Blood streaks the ice. Isaac’s helmet comes loose and slides away.

Eventually, enough players manage to pull the two of them apart with enough distance that the referee can get between them. That calms the chaos…

…For exactly forty-three seconds.

Lucian digs his skates into the ice and launches himself across the rink. The collision is brutal. The sound echoes across the arena. Gasps ripple through the crowd.

The whistle shrieks.

The entire arena gasps. It’s the kind of sound people make when they witness something shocking.

Whoever wasn’t already in the fray immediately rushes forward.

Isaac doesn’t even get a chance to hit the ice before Lucian follows him down. He rains blows at Isaac’s face, torso, and sides like a man possessed.

Coach is screaming from the sidelines.

The Steelhawks join in an attempt to break the two men apart.

And through all of it, Lucian keeps hitting Isaac.

My heart slams against my ribs. “What is he doing?”

Nobody answers. Nobody can. Because nothing about this makes sense.

Officials flood the ice. It takes five of them to finally pull Lucian away so medics can get in to check on Isaac.

Isaac is yelling something. Whatever he says has Lucian lunging again.

Thankfully, the hold the officials have on him remains. They pull him further away from Isaac, and I catch a glimpse of his face. The look he’s wearing steals the air from my lungs.

I’ve never seen him look like that. Not once. Not even during his worst fights.

This isn’t anger. It’s rage.

Pure. Unfiltered. Rage.

It’s the kind that doesn’t care who’s watching or what the consequences are. The kind that only exists when something has broken.

Referees wrestle Lucian off the ice.

“Game misconduct,” the commentators announce for everyone watching. “Caulfield has been ejected from the game.”

The crowd reacts instantly.

I shake my head, not understanding what the fuck is happening.

Lucian loves hockey. He loves it enough to build his entire life around it. Yet he just threw away the biggest game of his career without a second thought. Which means whatever this is…