Page 445 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

Let's fucking go.

The Soldiers win the faceoff.

Thane's glove snaps the puck out of the air thirty seconds later, and the whole arena comes up off its seats.

I forget about the noise after that. I always do. Once the game starts, there's only the ice and the puck and my brothers around me, and for the first time in weeks, everything's in place.

The bond makes it better.

When Whiskey cuts across the blue line, I know where he's going before he does. When Plague pulls back to cover the gap I leave, I don't have to check.

They work in tandem with each other. Always have, even when they're fighting.

So does Valek now, but more with Plague.

And I've always been able to feel Thane.

Plague feeds me a pass six minutes in, and I take it up the boards with a Soldier winger hanging off my shoulder. The guy is big. I lean into him, shrug him off, and hear him hit the glass behind me.

I shoot.

The goalie gets a piece of it. The rebound kicks out into the slot, and Valek comes out of nowhere, already swinging, and buries it.

1-0.

The roar from the stands makes my ears ring.

But all I care about is making eye contact with Ivy. I can hear her screams of joy even over the rest of them. My heart isolates it easily.

Valek skates past me with his glove up and I smack it, and he grins at me through his mouthguard.

"Thanks for the easy goal, brother."

Show-off, I sign at him.

Whiskey gets the second one. It's a garbage goal, a scrum in front of the net, bodies piling up everywhere, and somehow, he's the one who pokes the puck in while sitting on a howling Soldier's bent legs.

He celebrates by sliding into the boards on his knees, arms out, screaming at the crowd.

The crowd screams back.

The Soldiers get one back before the period ends. Thane's pissed. I feel him taking it personally in the spike of irritation through our bond and shoot him a look on the way to the bench.

We're fine, I sign.

"Yeah," he grits out. "I know."

I bump my shoulder into his. Ivy's watching. Win it for her.

He nods, jaw tight.

The next goal's mine.

Then the next.

And the next.

I told my brother the truth.