Chapter 141 - 2-1 The Serpents in the Lead

"Fine," I breathed, the cold water finally soothing the raw burn in my throat. I capped the bottle and tossed it aside, locking my gaze onto his grey eyes. "We break the template. But you have to be precise, Reid. If you mistime the acceleration, we’re handing them a breakaway on a silver platter."

​"I won’t mistime it," Reid growled, his visor cutting down with a sharp, heavy click as Coach Devin shouted for the first line to get back over the boards.

​The whistle blew, and the second half exploded into motion.

​The ice already felt chewed up, slick but heavy under our blades. True to Reid’s prediction, the moment the puck dropped, Edward Stein orchestrated a tight, horizontal squeeze in the neutral zone.

The Avalanche’s jerseys flooded the mid-ice lane, their sticks tracking my every movement as if I had a target painted on my chest.

Stein was gliding backward, his eyes entirely locked onto my hips, reading my deceleration, waiting for me to try and force the standard transition play.

​But this time, I didn’t take the bait.

​Instead of demanding the pass from our defenseman, I deliberately slowed my stride, veering hard toward the right boards.

I dragged two of their penalty killers with me, pulling their horizontal wall completely taut. Stein’s eyes narrowed through his visor, instantly tracking my movement, sensing the trap. He lunged forward to close the gap on my flank.

​Now.

​I didn’t call for the puck. I didn’t even look back. But in perfect, terrifying synchronization, the defense executed a hard rink-wide bank pass into the empty space behind me.

​A massive, blue blur exploded through the neutral zone.

​Reid caught the puck on the fly, his skating strides so violent they carved deep, roaring gasps into the ice. By the time Stein realized I was just the decoy, Reid had already cut the ice entirely in half. He drove down the left wing like a runaway freight train, his massive frame completely shielding the puck from the backchecking defenders.

​"Stein! Shift down!" the Avalanche goaltender screamed, but the rotation was already shattered.

​Stein wheeled around desperately, trying to use his superior edge-work to recover and cut off the rookie’s lane to the net. He threw himself into a hard slide, his stick extending to poke the puck away.

​But Reid’s blood was running completely hot. The territorial alpha jealousy that had been simmering since the pre-game handshake culminated in one explosive movement.

Instead of passing or avoiding the contact, Reid braced his broad shoulders, protecting the puck with his body, and drove right through the collision.

He slammed his weight down, his steel blade cutting inside the hash marks as he literally forced Stein to skate around his massive frame.

​With a lightning-fast wrist shot, Reid fired the puck right over the goalie’s blocker, forcing it into the back of the net before the defense could even collapse.

​The red light flared instantly.

​2-1. The Serpents had taken the lead.

​The stadium dissolved into utter, earth-shaking chaos. Up in the stands, the glowing banners with my number were waving so frantically they were practically a blur of light.

​Reid didn’t even celebrate toward the crowd. He skated hard past the net, turning sharply until he stopped directly in front of me. His breathing was heavy, ragged, and a dense, suffocating wave of frozen pine rolled off his sweat-drenched jersey, completely blocking out the rest of the rink.

His eyes were wild with a raw, triumphant adrenaline as he reached out, his massive gloved hands grabbing both sides of my helmet, pulling me in until our visors practically touched.

​"I told you," Reid breathed, his voice a low, possessive rumble that vibrated straight through my skull over the deafening cheers. "He’s not getting anywhere near you tonight, Cap."

​My heart hammered violently against my ribs, a sudden, fierce heat rushing up my neck that had absolutely nothing to do with the physical exhaustion of the shift. Locked in his iron grip, surrounded by his scent, I could only stare back at him, completely breathless.

The crowd went absolutely wild at the sudden, suffocating intimacy playing out on the center screen.

The Jumbotron had caught the entire interaction in high-definition, broadcasting the way Reid’s massive gloved hands completely engulfed my helmet, holding me flush against his chest right in the middle of the offensive zone.

​The deafening roar of twenty thousand fans hitting a collective high-pitched frenzy was loud enough to vibrate right through the soles of my skates.

High up in the VIP boxes, I could practically feel Chleo and Chloe slamming their hands against the glass, their custom glowing banners swinging in frantic, chaotic circles.

​"Oh my god, look at them!" a fan screamed from the front row, throwing their arms in the air. "He went straight for the Captain! The rumors are dead real!"

​"McCoy, let go," I hissed through my teeth, my face burning a furious, violent crimson beneath my visor.

I brought my gloved hands up, pushing hard against his unyielding chest to force some distance between us. "The cameras are right on us, you idiot."

​Reid didn’t care. A slow, incredibly smug smirk pulled at his lips, his grey eyes gleaming with a lazy, triumphant satisfaction as he finally let his hands slide down to my shoulders.

He didn’t back off completely, keeping his massive frame angled to shield me from the view of the Avalanche bench, his frozen pine scent still flaring thick and heavy around us.

​"They’ve been watching us the whole time, Cap," he murmured, his voice deeply amused by the absolute chaos he had just triggered in the stands. "We’re winning."

​Across the ice, Edward Stein was just getting back to his feet, dusting the shaved ice off his burgundy jersey.

He looked over at the two of us, catching the lingering, protective way Reid stood in front of me.

Edward let out a low breath, a faint, rueful smile touching his lips as he shook his head. Things were just about to get serious.

​"Line change! Get back to the bench!" Coach Devin’s hoarse voice barked over the boards, shattering the moment.

​I gave Reid a sharp, warning glare, turning on my heel to skate hard toward the bench before my racing heart could completely give me away.

The second half had only just started, the scoreboard read 2-1, and the stadium was practically melting down from the sheer tension on the ice.

The game went on for a while with no more goals and the clock in the third period was ticking down with agonizing speed, the numbers glowing a harsh red against the stadium rafters.

​05:14.

​For the last twenty minutes, we had been clinging to that fragile 2-1 lead. The ice was completely chewed up, covered in deep ruts and snow from the sheer velocity of the skating.

My lungs felt like they were lined with broken glass, and every stride required a massive effort of will.

​On the bench, Coach Devin was practically out of his mind, pacing back and forth and screaming at the defensive lines to compress the zone. "Keep the box tight! Don’t let them establish the point!"