Page 46 of His Last Will

Ari:

Absolutely not.

Aiden:

Yes.

My teammates are busy getting dressed for the game. The tension is high tonight because we can use tonight’s win to secure our spot in the championship run. If we win tonight, we qualify for the Iced Eight.

Championship season is always my favorite time of the year. Players lose most of their inhibitions by the time we get to the end of March, and the rink becomes a reaper’s playground. Opponents are more willing to fight, and blood is more likely to be spilled. Everything is on the line. Especially for the seniors.

For some of these players, myself included, this will be our last season. Sure, I could go pro; every guy on the team could. Enough agents have reached out to try to sign me and get me to declare for the draft, which I may have considered if Brodie hadn’t died.

The Order will not wait.

Ari:

I’m in the stands already.

Aiden:

Spread your legs and take a pic. I know you are wearing some skimpy fucking dress.

Aiden:

Matter of fact, sit that way the entire game. So I can look up from the ice and have a nice view.

Ari:

You make me want to stab you.

Aiden:

You know just the things to say to make me hard, little venom.

Ari:

Aiden:

Send it.

“Ready to go tonight, Cap?” Reese shoulders up next to me.

“If I can send someone home in a body bag tonight, I will count it as a success.” I smirk at Reese as I say it. Oh, if only he knew how true that was.

Reese rubs his hands together. “Excellent. When we get to the championship game, I want to see you let loose on Cartwright.” His sadistic laugh fills the air as he shuts his locker and heads out to line up.

Dylan Cartwright. The Cartwright heir and Jameson’s nephew played for the opposing team. Bishop U was our archrival. They played just as dirty and rough as we did, so the games were literal bloodbaths. My favorite kind.

My phone buzzes.

Ari:

How’s this?

Ari:

*Attached Image*