Pucking the Captain
Jules was skating lazy circles near the blue line, showing off that flashy stick-handling that made the scouts drool, and he looked so damn good in our colors that it made my chest swell with a sick, possessive pride.
But that pride quickly turned to feral, blinding irritation when Michigan’s captain, a massive, dirty-playing defenseman named Kaelen, skated past Jules and deliberately clipped his ankles with his stick.
Jules stumbled, catching himself on the boards, and Kaelen just laughed, shouting something trashy over his shoulder that I couldn't hear but definitely understood.
Something inside me just snapped. It was a violent, primal crack in my chest, and suddenly, the roar of the crow