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Chapter 3: Choose by the ice King

مؤلف: Vane core
last update تاريخ النشر: 2026-08-07 21:39:02

Brielle’s POV

The next day, I woke up hungover because I had stayed up last night drinking heavily to shut out the pain I felt. Paige had gotten wind of what happened and had called last night to tell me how disappointed she was that I couldn't keep my rebellious nature in check.

“I’ll talk to Ford for you,” she had said before hanging up.

I sighed. I was only trying to help her, and this was what I got for it. No doubt it was my fault for almost ruining our career, but I was already fired, wasn't I? Now that I had no job anymore, I didn't know what to do with my life. Finding a new job in New Jersey was not as easy as it seemed, but I hoped to get one soon. 

This was the time I missed my parents. As an only child, they would have been comforting me by now if I were to be in California with them. I sighed wistfully. This was one of the disadvantages of adulthood.

My phone rang and I reluctantly got out of the bed to check who was calling. Immediately I saw who it was, I sat up despite my headache and picked up the call. 

“Hello, Director Ford?”

“Brielle,” he said, his voice unusually bright.

 Brielle?

 He usually called me by my surname, for formality. What was this? 

“Yes?” I waited. 

“Well, I haven't seen you at the studio today.”

I blinked, confused. “You fired me yesterday, remember?”

“Me? Never. Come to the studio right away, you are needed here.”

Before I could say anything, he dropped the call. I was confused. What in the world was going on? I remembered clearly that he fired me yesterday due to my incompetence, as he called it. Or maybe I had too much to drink that I’d started hallucinating. 

But that was the point of the alcohol I took yesterday. If I hadn't been fired, I wouldn't have taken it. So, what was going on? Despite my confusion, I dragged myself into the bathroom, took a shower, and hopped on my bike immediately.

When I got to the studio, Director Ford was a delightful ray of sunshine. It was so unlike him. He pulled out a seat for me and made me sit in the hall where he had gathered the staff. Paige hadn't flown into Jersey yet, so she wasn't there. 

I could only stare at everyone in confusion as the usually gruff man was dancing around like a happy child. 

"You are the star of this agency," he beamed. "You've made me so proud." 

Now, I am totally confused. I got up from the seat, refusing to be confused anymore. 

"What is going on, Director Ford? You fired me yesterday, and today you are telling me that I'm the star of this agency? You told me yesterday I was incompetent." 

He waved his hand. "I was just angry. You know that you are far from being incompetent." 

"What's going on?" 

"Congratulations. Your dream has been fulfilled."

 "What dream?" 

"You are now a lead photographer for the Jersey hockey team."

Before I could even process what he said, he spoke again.

“And that's not all. Guess what's to come.”

“What?” I squeaked. 

“Chase Kensington chose you himself. He said he didn't want any other photographer but you.”

Blood drained from my face. I knew what would happen already. I must be in deep shit now. He probably wanted me to delete the picture and would do anything to get his way, even if it meant keeping me by his side as his photographer. 

Nice strategy, Kensington, I thought.

Everyone began celebrating without even asking. So I decided to drop the bomb. 

"I am not interested," I said. 

"What?" Director Ford's face changed. "What do you mean by that?”

“Give the job to Paige. It's hers.”

“This isn't Paige's job. Besides, you were the one Chase Kensington chose." 

"Director, I'm not…”

“Do you still want this job or not?”

“I do, but…”

“No buts. You have to accept the offer."

“…”

*** * ***

I parked my bike in front of a little stadium. I was scheduled to photograph Chase and his teammates while they were practicing today. I had no choice but to come since I had already accepted the offer. Even Paige asked me to go ahead and accept it. 

According to her, this was an opportunity that I had been waiting for, and I needed to grab it while the offer was still up. I walked into the stadium, met with the manager, and tried my best to avoid looking him in the eye.

"Do not forget the rules," he said with a disapproving look.

 "I won't.”

“That was what you said the last time. This time, make sure there are no mistakes." 

"Yes, sir." 

Soon, I began capturing their moments, even beginning to feel like I belonged there and just enjoying the game. But Chase kept looking at me like I was a pest. His eyes were full of disdain for me. I wondered why he seemed so irritated with me when he was the one who asked me to come here. After their practice, I walked up to him. 

"Hi, Mr. Kensington." 

He looked at me like I was a piece of trash and walked away. I gasped but didn't push it further. He was probably angry because of the last time. But that didn't give him the right to treat me that way.

I just stood there, deciding that I wouldn't go near him again. I would just come here, do my job, and leave. So that was what I did for the next few days. I would come there, do the usual session, and leave as soon as my job was done, until he cornered me one day. 

"I need you to delete those pictures," he whispered.

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  • SHOOTING A SHOT AT THE ICE KING    Chapter 39: Hostile Territory

    Brielle’s POV.The roar of the United Center crowd hit us like a physical wall the second the heavy double doors of the visiting tunnel swung open.Chicago on home ice wasn't just loud; it was outright hostile. Twenty thousand red-jerseyed fans screamed at the top of their lungs, hurling insults, plastic cups, and crumpled posters over the high glass partition of the tunnel. The air inside the arena was thick, hot, and heavy with the scent of stale beer, popcorn, and popcorn oil.“KENSINGTON’S BROKEN! KENSINGTON’S BROKEN!”The chant started in the upper deck and rippled down through the lower bowl like a rhythmic wave of noise, echoing off the steel girders high above.I walked two paces behind Chase, my telephoto camera rig slung tightly across my chest, my press badge secured around my neck. My heart was hammering a wild, erratic rhythm against my ribs, but I kept my chin high, staring straight ahead.Through the fabric of his black-and-silver road jersey, Chase looked monstrous, hi

  • SHOOTING A SHOT AT THE ICE KING    Chapter 38: Forty-Eight Hours

    Brielle’s POV.By noon, Chase’s private recovery suite on the ninth floor of Mass General had turned into a high-security war room.Outside, a ring of hospital security guards and private bodyguards kept the swarming press corps contained in the main lobby far below. Inside, the heavy blinds were drawn against the harsh afternoon sun, casting the room in dim, solemn shadows.Dr. Marcus stood beside the digital lightboard on the wall, tapping a stylus against a fresh set of high-resolution 3D CT scans of Chase’s chest. Sitting around the small glass conference table in the corner were Coach Sullivan, team lead trainer Dan, and our lead corporate legal counsel.Chase sat upright in bed, his upper body bare save for heavy medical gauze over his chest-tube insertion site and the thick, rigid fiberglass brace locking his ribcage in place. His face was drawn and pale, but his dark blue eyes were razor-sharp, tracking every mark Dr. Marcus made on the screen."I’m not going to sugarcoat this

  • SHOOTING A SHOT AT THE ICE KING    Chapter 37: Razor's Edge

    Brielle’s POV.The double doors of Massachusetts General Hospital swung open with a harsh metallic bang, admitting a blast of autumn night air and the wail of the ambulance siren outside."Trauma Bay One!" Dr. Marcus shouted, pushing past the triage desk beside the EMTs. "We have a thirty-two-year-old male with severe blunt force thoracic trauma, secondary to a direct puck impact. Radiograph from the arena confirmed compound fractures to the sixth and seventh ribs. Oxygen saturation dropped below eighty-two on transit, acute respiratory distress, visible hemothorax, and soft-tissue hemorrhage!"The trauma bay erupted into controlled chaos. A dozen medical professionals in scrubs converged on the gurney under the stark, humming fluorescent lights. Stainless steel trays clattered as instruments were laid out. Monitors hummed to life, their harsh blue screens casting an eerie glow over Chase’s pale, blood-spattered face."Get him shifted to the bed on three!" the lead trauma surgeon comm

  • SHOOTING A SHOT AT THE ICE KING    Chapter 36: Emergency Protocol

    Brielle’s POV.The roar of nineteen thousand celebrating fans felt miles away, muffled like I was underwater.My boots skidded violently across the slick surface as I dropped to my knees beside Chase, the unforgiving cold of the ice soaked through my trousers instantly, but the freezing sting barely registered against my skin. All I could see, all that existed in my entire universe was Chase lying on his left side, his knees curled up toward his broad torso, his right hand still locked around his composite stick in a death grip while his left clutched frantically at the rigid orthopedic binding encasing his chest."Chase!" I gasped, sliding my trembling hands beneath his cold cheek to lift his face off the frozen rink. "Chase, look at me! Breathe, damn it, breathe!"His face was ghostly pale, slick with a layer of icy sweat, his jaw clamped so tight in an agonizing, silent scream that the muscles in his neck stood out like steel cords, his dark blue eyes were open but unfocused, rolli

  • SHOOTING A SHOT AT THE ICE KING    Chapter 35: Frozen Agony

    Brielle’s POV.Six days later, the air inside TD Garden felt like liquid electricity.Nineteen thousand fans screamed in a deafening, unified roar that vibrated through the concrete foundations of the arena. Black and gold banners waved wildly from the rafters, and the ice sparkled under the intense, blinding glare of national broadcast spotlights.Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Finals.I stood behind the glass near the Boston bench, my hands steady around my telephoto lens, though my pulse was hammering against my ribs.Through the lens, I zoomed in on Chase.He was standing in the tunnel, isolated from the rest of the team. He was fully geared, his black-and-silver captain’s jersey pulled taut over his chest but underneath that fabric lay two layers of rigid orthopedic binding, locking his shattered six and seventh ribs into place, every single breath was a controlled exercise in agonizing restraint.His right hand was wrapped in compressed, low-profile medical tape, hidden beneath his c

  • SHOOTING A SHOT AT THE ICE KING    Chapter 34: Critical condition

    Brielle’s POV."Vitals are dropping," the lead paramedic barked over the roar of the engine, slapping a monitoring lead onto Chase's bare shoulder. "Systolic is ninety over fifty. We’ve got a massive deep-tissue contusion over the left thoracic wall. Possible pulmonary laceration from a fractured rib.""Hang on, Chase," I whispered, my voice trembling as I leaned down close to his ear, ignoring the steady beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor spiking erratically beside us. "Please, just hold on."His dark eyelashes fluttered, but he didn't open his eyes. His fingers gave my hand a microscopic, agonizingly weak squeeze before falling slack again.The ambulance slammed to a halt inside the underground bay of Bellevue Hospital, the doors burst open, and a swarm of trauma surgeons in pale blue scrubs swarmed the vehicle, pulling the gurney out onto the concrete floor."Thirty-two-year-old male, blunt force trauma to the chest wall, severe right-hand lacerations with visible soft-tissue dama

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