LOGINWe checked into the hotel suite under assumed names to avoid the reporters who had already gathered near the main lobby.The television on the wall of the suite was active. On the screen, Arthur Kendrick's lead attorney stood at a podium in Chicago. The media banner at the bottom of the broadcast displayed a warning: Keller in Breach of Contract."Rhys Keller has left his medical compound without franchise authorization," the attorney stated to the row of microphones. "He has rejected the guidance of our elite orthopedic staff. We believe his actions are the result of outside manipulation by an independent contractor. We have filed a formal complaint with the league compliance office to suspend his license."The broadcast changed, displaying a split-screen image. My professional headshot appeared on the left, next to a photograph of Rhys on the ice. The news anchor began to read a prepared statement from the Chicago front office, calling my medical credentials into question and la
The diagnostic laboratory was filled with digital monitoring equipment and a central examination table. Two league physicians stood by the primary monitor, reviewing a set of older digital files sent from the Chicago franchise.Lars Vance stood near the door, his arms crossed over his gray suit. "This is Dr. Evans and Dr. Choi. They handle our orthopedic clearance."Rhys walked to the center of the room and sat on the edge of the examination table. He kept his posture perfectly straight, but his large hands gripped the edge of the padded surface tightly.Dr. Evans pulled up a spreadsheet on the main monitor. "Miss Miller, we received the baseline data from Kendrick Enterprises at midnight. According to their sports medicine division, Rhys has a twenty percent deficit in his right quadriceps and significant residual fluid inside the joint capsule. Under these parameters, we cannot clear him for active skating.""That data is five days old and intentionally skewed," I said, steppi
The wheels of the medical transport plane hit the tarmac at the private airfield in Seattle with a heavy, mechanical shudder.I unbuckled my safety strap immediately and stood up. Rhys was already on his feet, holding his equipment bag in his left hand while keeping his right leg balanced to protect the graft. The flight technicians opened the main cabin door, and the cold Washington air entered the aircraft."The transport vehicle is waiting at the bottom of the steps," I said, checking my tablet as we descended the metal staircase. "The Seattle General Manager, Lars Vance, changed the physical evaluation location from the downtown hospital to their private practice facility to avoid the media.""Let's move," Rhys said, his voice flat and focused. "My father's legal team has probably already sent them our old medical files. We need to establish our own data before they review his narrative."We loaded our specialized cargo crates into the back of a waiting black SUV. The driver
The administrative email from league headquarters remained active on the monitor as we began packing the clinical gear.We spent three hours loading the specialized equipment into the heavy storage crates. I managed the inventory, ensuring that the portable pneumatic resistance cables, the metabolic tracking sensors, and the amino isolate supplies were securely boxed. Rhys handled the physical lifting, moving the heavy containers from the training wing to the loading zone at the back of the house without using his right knee for leverage.By three o'clock in the morning, the private medical transport van arrived at the perimeter gate. We loaded the crates into the rear cargo hold and drove directly to the private airfield on the north side of Chicago.The transport plane was small, designed specifically for medical evacuations and independent athletic travel. Two flight technicians assisted us with transferring the equipment crates into the lower belly of the aircraft. Once the car
The high-pitched blare of the security terminal echoed down the hallway, filling the ice room with a continuous, frantic alarm. On the wall monitor near the entrance, the perimeter gate status indicator turned from green to a flashing violet code.Forced Entry Detected—North Gate.Rhys did not let go of my shoulders. His grip tightened, his large fingers digging through the fabric of my shirt as the alarm continued to sound. The shock of the trade announcement was instantly replaced by a cold, protective instinct. He moved his body smoothly, stepping directly in front of me to block my frame from the double doors of the rink."Stay behind me, Sasha," Rhys ordered, his voice dropping into a low, flat register."The gate was breached by vehicle impact," I said, my voice steady despite the rapid pounding of my heart. I reached around his waist to access the portable tablet attached to his training belt, pulling up the live perimeter feed. "It is not a technical hack. Someone used a h
The breaking news alert flashed on the screen of the phone, casting a stark white light against the dark wood of the bench.Trade Finalized—Rhys Keller Sent to Seattle.Rhys froze. He stopped pulling at the laces of his skate, his large hands locking around the leather strings until his knuckles turned entirely white. He stared at the screen, his face draining of all color."He did it," Rhys whispered. His voice was lower than I had ever heard it, stripped of any emotion except absolute disbelief. "He actually pushed the button."The phone continued to buzz violently against the bench, the name of Head Coach Miller flashing right over the headline.I reached down and picked up the phone, holding it out to him. My fingers were steady, but inside, a sharp panic was rising. "You have to answer it, Rhys. We need to know if the front office actually processed the trade or if this is a leak from your sister's PR division."Rhys did not take the phone immediately. He stood up from the







