The buzzer cracked through the arena like a fired gun.
Overtime. Game winner. Final score: 3–2.
The crowd was still losing its mind as the last three skaters drifted off the ice together—Captain, Sniper, Enforcer. Always in that order. Always locked into the same rhythm that never broke.
The rest of the team rushed ahead, voices loud, gloves flying, victory already turning into beers, interviews, and plans for the night. Within half a minute, the locker room was thinning out fast. Saturday routine.
They didn’t join it.
By the time that the heavy doors were closed shut behind them, the steam was already turning the air to fog. It was just the three of them now. The room was smelling like pads that was soaked with sweat. Muscle rub. And something that was heavier. Something that had bee
