Holiday Hockey Tale: The Icebreaker's Impasse นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Kelvin nodded, pointing in a direction, and he parted his lips to speak more but I rushed past him before he could. The ride to the hotel was relatively silent, and the room they had provided was nice, but Kelvin came to me a few hours after we arrived. "The competition has been postponed," he stated. My eyes widened, my heart throbbing hard against my chest. My mind spiraled immediately. Lilith, or was it someone else? How were they able to put their hands in this after the competition had already started. "The other team seemed to have encountered some difficulties," Kelvin added and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

DOMINIC "A hockey team, Dominic? Seriously?" Jax stood on the balcony overlooking the yard, watching as two dozen teenagers and young adults—the Blackridge 'Howlers' hockey squad unloaded crates from the back of an ice-truck. "They’re not just kids, Jax," I said, leaning over the blueprint spread across the railing. "They’re athletes with a specialized skill set. They know how to move on ice, they know how to coordinate at high speeds, and more importantly, they have access to industrial-grade liquid nitrogen and high-tensile netting."

Then she started walking toward us, her heels clicking against the frozen pavement like a countdown. "Stay behind me," Derick whispered, stepping in front of me. "Don't." I touched his arm. "This is my fight." "She's dangerous." "So am I." My mother stopped a few feet away, her eyes sliding from Derick to me and back again. Her smile was small and cold as a paper cut. "Ciel. How nice of you to join us." Her gaze drifted to the rink behind her. "It seems someone has been telling stories. The police found something under the ice. Can you imagine?"

Helmets flew, someone kicked off one skate before remembering they still needed the other one and Joshua collapsed dramatically across the wooden bench. "I'm never moving again." Nikola walked past him. "You'll move for dinner though." "...that's different." Adrian finally dropped onto the floor. "I can't feel my legs." "You don't need them." "I play hockey." "Good point." Even Coach gave up trying to control them. He leaned against the wall with folded arms while the room echoed with overlapping conversations. "Did you see Elias? He blocked everything." Elias scratched his head nervously. "I thought I died." "I actually died twice."

One kiss shouldn’t have been enough to make me question everything I knew about him, but then again, nothing about Zane Jaxon had ever been easy for me. By the time I arrived at the Northbridge University hockey rink that afternoon, I had convinced myself that I wasn’t going to think about any of it. I was there as the student reporter covering the game, and that was exactly what I intended to do. I had my notebook on my lap, my pen between my fingers and a list of things I needed to observe before writing my report. I was prepared. Professional. Completely focused. At least, I had been until the Northernbridge Huskies skated onto the ice.

It was designed to withstand hundred-mile-per-hour slapshots. "Break!" I grunted, swinging again. Another massive impact. My hands stung. The temperature continued its brutal descent. The air felt heavy, stinging my lungs with every inhale. My fingers grew stiff, losing their dexterity. The thin material of my windbreaker offered zero insulation against the artificial arctic blast. Dropping the stick, I pulled my phone from my pocket. *No Service.* The thick concrete and steel architecture of the old arena created a dead zone. I held the device up high, wandering the perimeter of the ice, begging for a single bar of signal.

But something had shifted tonight on the empty ice. The corrections were no longer just about hockey. They were about us. How many more dangerous nights on empty ice, how many more stolen kisses against cold glass, how many more whispered confessions could we hide before the real world—Kane’s vendetta, Coach’s agenda, the team’s watchful eyes—finally caught up and forced us to face the truth we could no longer outskate?

Hunter "I was open, why the hell didn't you pass to me?" I bit out for what had to be the millionth time. It didn't take a genius to realise what was happening, but I was annoyed to admit it had taken me a while to pinpoint the problem. But then again, it had never occurred to me that the team would be petty enough to risk their championship over a stupid sense of loyalty to Neal Matthews. Who by the way, deserved to be banned from ever touching a hockey stick again.

I was getting hopeful that we were on the right track to getting my memories back. The feeling continued as I walked through the halls and the chill of the rink washed over me. A few memories came back to me, but they were small snippets, too small to piece together. I looked through the windows of the doors to the rink and spotted a figure in a black hoodie and black sweatpants gliding along the ice. I watched as he slapped a few shots into the net with the utmost anger, shards of ice could be seen flying as his stick scraped the ground.

For a brief moment, I feel like I have it under control—like I might actually be getting the hang of this. Then, before I even realize what’s happening, I trip. My body pitches backwards, and I crash into the ice, head down. Pain doesn’t register immediately, just a sharp jolt of embarrassment. As I open my eyes, Hu’s angry face comes into view, and I realize he made no attempt to catch me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snaps, stepping back as I struggle to sit up. “Get your ass up and skate like your life fucking depends on it.” His tone doesn’t shock me—I expected it, but that doesn’t make it any less infuriating.