All Chapters of Puck me. I’m yours: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Third Person:Papi and his men had been watching from the sidelines. Everything had been progressing just the way he wanted, and at this rate, it was safe to say Kingsgrove would not take the national championship home. Papi dropped the call just in time as his right-hand man walked into the room carrying a folder.It was dusk already, and the curtains were drawn with only a small table lamp lit, giving the room just enough light for the space where Papi was typing away on his laptop."So, we have an update," his right-hand man announced.Papi immediately looked up from his screen. He didn't ask for the folder right away; instead, he leaned his back against his chair and raised a hand to demand the folder, and his right-hand man quickly handed it over."Boss, do you think they are a threat?""I don't know," Papi shrugged, "but they look promising, that I am certain of.""But boss," his right-hand man hesitated for a moment, "they are just kids, and the last I heard, Ashgrove’s Coach H

Liam:The ride felt endless. It wasn't a quick one. Derek kept glancing in the rearview mirror as the driver took turn after turn, but I was too tired to answer his questions or try to reason out what the hell I was about to do.I leaned my head against the window, watching the streetlights blur into neon little stars. Every time, I told myself I could live without him. He was part of my past, a chapter that had closed and would never open again. But now those words sounded further and further away from me, drifting like a lone thought whispered in the depths of the night.The car soon pulled over in front of an estate. At first glance, one could tell it was a prestigious neighborhood. I'd gotten the location when he sent it over for me to come visit, but since then, I'd kept my distance. It wasn't that I didn't have the time, though hockey practice was grueling and the championship took a lot out of me. Frank Carter was just one chapter in my life I didn't think I'd be revisiting any

Liam:The ride back wasn't as long, but the moment we got back to my suite, everything came crashing down all at once. I'd walked into the house of the man I used to call father, and there was nothing of my mother in there.Taron had mentioned his home and how he'd investigated a few things. Frank lived alone, and the house was under his name, bought the moment he stepped out of prison. The money didn't come from his account. It came from another account, one a little too familiar: Don's. I wasn’t even angry about the house; he had every right to move on, but erasing her like she never happened was just as much as saying I was nothing but a mistake. I should be a living testimony of their love, the one he looks at and smiles knowing part of her was in me, but that wasn’t the case; all I saw was hatred for her and me in his eyes. I stared at the message on my phone and still couldn't bring myself to believe the words. There was nothing about my mother in there. Not the family portrai

Third Person:It was only a few hours until the big day. While Ashgrove prepared at their own hotel, Kingsgrove was making preparations of its own, and every activity was tailored to the day ahead. The morning opened with Jude and Louis going around town picking up a few items before rejoining the team at their hotel. Then they had breakfast and lunch, chatted a little, drafted the strategies they were going to follow, and finalized who would be on the team.Jude was in charge. Yes, Kingsgrove had a coach, but the ball had always been in Jude's court. He picked every player, from those who would start the game to those who would finish it and those reserved for the bench, and Louis stood by his side through every match like a sister. When everything had been settled, some players grumbled that they'd wanted to play. They thought they were good enough, but Louis and Jude insisted on using the hired players. The hired players came from elite teams and international teams, known for the

Liam:Two nights ago, when we'd decided to make my benching public, in Patrov's hospital room, which smelled of antiseptic and new furniture, Anderson had laid out the plan for us like a chess master on a sheet of paper. Everything was drafted down to the right angle, the right position, and the right moves. All we had to do was sit back and relax, watch their moves, and counter them with the same moves. The new players hired by Kingsgrove were exceptionally good. That was no mistake. But something was lacking. Every team had a strategy, and for years Ashgrove had built its strategy. Ours was deep-rooted in our team. Kingsgrove changed its strategy every season when new players came, like borrowing a language every time. They had no language of their own. Marcus had fed them everything, but he'd forgotten that what he fed them was something we'd made from scratch, and we could build another. That was why I'd already handpicked my players before he picked his. My players would end up