Page 83 of Pucked Around and Found Out

He holds his head high and locks his gaze onto mine. I feel the shock rippling through my men around the rink. They never thought Cas would betray me.

None of us did.

“Never,” he growls, his voice steady despite the pain.

I purse my lips and nod, something like respect flickering through the rage.

Then I let the next shot go.

It hits him directly in the gut with devastating force.

He drops to the ice like a sack of shit, groaning in agony.

Toren tries to crawl to him, but my words freeze her in place.

“Do it and I tell Gyle to put a bullet in your side piece's fucking skull.”

She looks up at me with tears streaming down her face, her expression one of absolute horror.

My anger only intensifies at the sight of her.

“You fucking knew!” I scream at her, my voice cracking. “You knew and you lied to protect him!”

She shrinks back, settling on her heels, making herself smaller.

“Save your fucking tears for his funeral.” My voice is ice and venom. “All of you bastards are the fucking same. Lying, scheming pieces of shit.”

I look back at Caspian writhing on the ice and feel every ounce of anger I've kept buried for nearly two years explode through me like a bomb detonating.

“Get the fuck up and take it like a man, you cocksucker, or I'm strapping you to a fucking chair and taking my time with you.”

My voice sounds different even to my own ears—hollow, distant, like it's coming from someone else entirely.

With my anger riding me this hard, I feel nothing. I'm numb to the pain his betrayal has caused. To the disappointment of her lying to me to protect this sack of shit.

I don't wait for him to climb to his feet.

I line up another shot and take it, hitting him right in the chest.

A sound of pure agony erupts from him and sends a dark, twisted shiver of satisfaction down my spine.

I fucking love that sound.

It's the sound of justice.

Of retribution.

Of everything I've been denied for two years finally being delivered.

“Xaden, please!” Toren's voice breaks through my rage. “Please stop! You're going to kill him!”

“Good,” I say flatly, already lining up another shot. “That's the point.”

And as I draw my stick back, ready to deliver another blow to the man who was my brother, I realize something with devastating clarity…

The monster isn't something I became.

It's something I've always been.