Chapter 9 - Champion for a Reason

Asya's POV

"Our next game will demand us spending the night in a different city," Vance announced during rehearsals. "Make sure you pack well for it. Also, Asy- Volkov stays on the bench and will only be substituted when necessary."

I turned to him sharpy but he avoided my gaze entirely. Saraya seemed to suddenly be the happiest person in the room. I sighed, ignoring the snickers from her minions. It wouldn't matter anyway, I've seen how they play and they won't win without me. I'm the champion for a reason.

---

The air inside the arena felt like the oxygen was being sucked out by the sheer weight of the pressure. They played so terribly during the first round that coach had to send me in during the second overtime. Much to the annoyance of Saraya who started treating me like an opponent.

"Lines! Move it!" Vance’s voice barked from the bench, rough and cracking from hours of shouting over the roaring crowd.

I vaulted over the boards, my blades biting into the chewed-up ice. Saraya was already out there, anchoring the blue line as our primary defenseman. But her exhaustion was glaring. Her shoulders were slouched, her recovery steps were half a second too slow, and her breathing was a ragged, desperate gasp.

North Lake won the neutral-zone face-off and immediately launched a heavy, aggressive drive down the right flank.

"Saraya! Drop back! Cover the slot!" I screamed, pushing past my own exhaustion to sprint down the center ice, trying to track the opposing winger.

She didn't move fast enough. The North Lake forward saw the massive gap and executed a sharp, biting deke that left Saraya entirely turned around. With a heavy, clumsy desperation, she attempted a defensive slide to block the lane, but her timing failed completely.

She wiped out against the ice, sliding helplessly toward the boards and leaving our goalie completely exposed.

"Watch the back post, Chloe!" I yelled, throwing myself into a dead sprint.

The North Lake forward fired a vicious, low snapshot. Our goalie made a spectacular, desperate pad save, but the rebound popped directly out into the high slot. I lunged forward, my stick sweeping the ice, and managed to clear the puck out of the danger zone just as the horn blared, signaling the end of the second overtime.

The bench was a disaster area of panting girls, dripping sweat, and ice packs. Saraya slammed her helmet against the floorboards, her face a violent shade of crimson as she gasped for air.

"You didn't cover the angle, Chloe!" Saraya yelled, deflecting her own failure onto the sophomore goalie. "If you had just stayed on your post, I wouldn't have had to risk the slide!"

"That's enough!" Vance’s roar silenced the entire bench instantly. He stepped down from the elevated platform, radiating a terrifying authority. His dark eyes didn't even look at the whiteboard; they locked straight onto Saraya. "You choked the gap, Saraya. You were lazy on the transition, and you left your goalie out to dry."

Saraya blinked, her jaw dropping. "Coach, I was trying to—"

"I don't care what you were trying to do," Vance snapped. He turned his head, his gaze catching mine for a fraction of a second before moving back to Saraya. "Saraya, you're benched. Volkov, you’re anchoring the top line for the third overtime. I want a strict, high-pressure defensive lock. No one skates past the blue line without a body on them."

"Benched?!" Saraya shrieked, standing up so fast her skates clattered against the rubber matting. Her eyes were wide with a feral, humiliated rage as she looked from Vance to me. "You’re benching the captain for a walk-on? This is absolute bullshit! She’s the one who's dividing this—"

"Sit down, Saraya," Vance growled, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low rumble that made the entire squad freeze. "One more word, and you're walking back to campus alone."

Saraya slowly sank back onto the bench, her fingers tightly gripping her stick until her knuckles turned white. If looks could kill, I would've been burned to ashes on the spot.

I didn't waste a second. "Listen to me. We don't force the breakaway. We choke their neutral zone. Maya, you stay on the left boards. When I win the draw, skip it back to the defense and establish the wall. We win this as a unit. Let's go."

The third overtime was a blur of pure willpower.

In no time, we had scored two extra goals, and right after the third, the red light flashed. The game was finally over.

The freshmen screamed, throwing their arms around me as the rest of the bench erupted into a wild, triumphant celebration. We had won the match, securing an undefeated pre-tournament run. My eyes instinctively found Saraya. She was already walking down the tunnel alone, her back stiff as ice.

---

By 1:00 AM, the hotel was completely quiet, but the adrenaline and full-body exhaustion kept my mind racing. Every muscle in my body ached, and my ribs felt like they were on fire. Unable to sleep, I pulled on a heavy black sweatshirt and sweatpants, grabbed my phone and slipped down the quiet elevator toward the hotel gym.

The gym was dark, illuminated only by the faint green glow of the exit sign and the moonlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I pushed the glass door open, stepping inside, and instantly froze.

A tall, broad silhouette was standing by the weight rack. Vance. He had his team jacket off, wearing just a tight black t-shirt that showed the immense, powerful frame of his shoulders. He leaned against a bench, his head lowered, a bottle of water loosely held in his hand.

"What are you doing here, Volkov?" his deep voice cut through the darkness before I could even make a sound.

I took a slow, hesitant step into the room, the glass door clicking shut behind me. "Did you trail me down here?"

I let out a scoff before my brain could register it. "I just couldn't sleep, thought to tire myself out a bit."

He slowly raised his head. His dark eyes locked onto mine, intense, and devoid of the professional mask he had worn hours ago. The shared fatigue between us completely broke down our remaining walls.

"You played a hell of a game out there tonight, Anastasia," he murmured, his voice dropping into that rough, low register that always made my heart flutter. He walked over, breaking the distance between us until he was standing just inches away, his intoxicating scent filling my senses. "You proved every single one of them wrong. You're not a selfish player."

"I told you I could do it," I breathed, looking up at him, my voice trembling slightly. "I told you I wouldn't let you down."

"I know," He whispered, reaching his large, warm hand slowly to rest against the side of my neck, his thumb lightly brushing against my jawline. The touch was so tender, so completely charged with a forbidden heat, that a soft gasp escaped my lips. "But watching you out there... watching you take those hits, watching Saraya try to break you... it's driving me out of my mind. Every time you hit the ice, I have to force myself not to jump over the boards to pull you out of harm's way."

"Vance..." My hand instinctively reached up, my fingers locking onto his strong wrist, but I didn't pull his hand away. Instead, I leaned into his touch, my eyes drifting down to his lips.

He let out a low, defeated growl, his chest rising and falling in a sharp, heavy breath. His grip on my neck tightened slightly, pulling me a fraction of an inch closer until the heat radiating from his body completely enveloped me. "You have no idea what you do to me, Anastasia. I am supposed to be your coach. I am supposed to protect this program. But right now, looking at you in this dark room, I don't give a damn about any of it."

"Then don't," I whispered against his lips, completely surrendering to the suffocating pull between us.

He closed the remaining distance, his mouth claiming mine with a desperate, breathless intensity. I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, pulling myself up against him as he poured every ounce of his desire into the touch of his lips.