Page 19 of The Hockey Stud

It’s a moment of pure genius and breathtaking skill, the kind of play that only comes from hours of practice and a deep understanding of the game. As the puck hits the back of the net, the entire bench erupts in celebration.

Late in the third period, our lack of discipline proves costly. We take an untimely penalty, and Los Angeles immediately takes advantage of the opportunity. On the ensuing power play, they execute a crisp passing sequence, and one of their forwards sets up at the faceoff dot. He unleashes a lethal one-timer that rockets past Bradford’s blocker side before he even has a chance to react. The puck hits the back of the net, and just like that, LA takes the lead.

With only 90 seconds remaining on the clock, our coach makes a bold decision. He signals to Bradford to head to the bench, opting to pull our goaltender in favor of an extra attacker. Now skating six-on-five, every second counts. The tension is palpable as we press into the offensive zone. I find myself locked in a fierce battle along the boards, bodies colliding and sticks clashing as we fight for possession. Digging deep, I manage to muscle the puck away from the opposition and quickly feed it up to the blue line, where Rhodes is waiting.

Rhodes wastes no time and fires a blistering slapshot toward the net. The LA goalie struggles to control the puck, and the rebound ricochets off his pads, bouncing right out in front of me. Instinct takes over—I don’t hesitate for a moment. I drive forward and hammer the puck into the open net. The arena erupts into chaos. The crowd, packed in with standing room only, explodes with cheers and applause. We’ve tied the game, and there are only 14 seconds left on the clock!

Breathless and exhilarated, we return to the bench to regroup. We take a moment to catch our breath and refocus, knowing that the game is far from over. The anticipation builds as we prepare for the intense three-on-three overtime and the looming shootout that will decide the outcome.

The play begins in utter chaos, with players scrambling for control and the crowd buzzing with nervous energy. Suddenly, Los Angeles capitalizes on our momentary lapse and launches a terrifying 2-on-1 breakaway, catching our entire team off guard. My heart races in my chest, and I hold my breath, fearing the worst as they close in on our net. Just when it looks like LA is about to score and end our season, Bradford, our goaltender, makes an unbelievable, acrobatic glove save. He stretches out in a desperate lunge, snatching the puck out of midair with lightning-fast reflexes. The entire arena erupts in disbelief and relief—Bradford’s heroics have kept our hopes alive.

Without wasting a single moment, Bradford quickly recovers and hurls the puck down the length of the ice, igniting a fast break. Nikoli is waiting, alert and ready, and he immediately takes control of the puck. Scanning the ice, Nikoli spots Dario flying down the wing at full speed, perfectly positioned for a counterattack. I dig deep, pushing myself to the limit as I sprint to catch up and trail the play, determined not to miss this opportunity.

As Dario crosses into the Vengeance zone, he draws the defenders toward him with a series of deft moves, forcing them to commit and opening up space. With a quick glance over his shoulder, Dario freezes the defense and then, with perfect timing, delivers a gorgeous drop pass right into my path. I don’t hesitate. Stepping into the puck, I unleash a powerful, pinpoint shot—a laser beam that rockets over the goalie’s shoulder and into the back of the net. The buzzer sounds. The game is over. We win.

The Vikings won.

Meanwhile, Maria Cole remains somewhere inside the building, her exact location still unknown. The last sighting of her on the security footage had been in the cafeteria, a busy area usually monitored by several cameras. After that, she seemed to have vanished without a trace, which was baffling. The cafeteria only connects to a few other rooms and corridors, all of which should have been covered by the building’s security system. It made no sense that she could simply disappear, especially with so many people searching and so many cameras supposedly watching every exit.

While the rest of the team continued to search the building, checking every possible hiding spot and reviewing security feeds, I made the decision to head toward the locker room to speak with Dover. Earlier, I had avoided telling him anything, not wanting to weigh him down with more worries before the game. I knew this decision had frustrated him—he hated being kept in the dark, especially about matters that concerned him directly. Still, at the time, I thought it was for the best, hoping to protect his focus and composure. Now, however, with Maria Cole’s strange disappearance and the growing sense of unease, I felt compelled to find out exactly why this woman seemed to have singled Dover out. The question gnawed at me, and as I walked, I rubbed at my brows, trying to make sense of the situation. Something about it all felt off, as if there was a crucial detail I was missing. Up until now, I would have sworn that the person threatening Dover was a man. The evidence, the tone of the messages, even the way the threats were delivered—all of it had led me to that assumption.

As I approach the locker room, Dover spots me just as he’s about to leave. His expression is stormy, and his brows are drawn together in a deep frown. Without waiting for me to speak, he strides toward me, his jaw clenched with irritation. “Tell me,” he demands, his voice low and tense, grinding out the words between his teeth. “I want to know what you’ve been keeping from me.” It’s clear he’s done waiting for answers, and I realize I can no longer protect him by holding back the truth.

I let out a long, weary sigh, feeling the weight of the conversation settling over me. “Maria Cole. Does that name mean anything to you?” I ask, searching his face for any sign of recognition or reaction.

He pauses for a moment, then nods slowly. “You mean the girl from social media? Yeah, I know who she is. She actually asked me out once. I told her I wasn’t interested and tried to let her down easy.” He shrugs, as if brushing off the memory, but there’s a hint of discomfort in his expression. “She has a brother, and I guess she must have told him about what happened between us—that I’d rejected her. He definitely wasn’t happy about it. He knows I’m gay, and I think that made things even worse in his eyes. He confronted me one day and said a load of bad shit to me, stuff I’d rather not repeat. I didn’t stick around to listen. I walked away before things could get uglier.” He runs a hand through his hair, which is dripping wet, as if the memory itself were weighing him down. “Honestly, after that, I never gave her another thought. She just wasn’t on my radar anymore.” He meets my eyes, his expression earnest and searching. “Are you absolutely sure it’s her?”

“Now that I’ve spoken to you, I’m convinced it’s her brother. Maria has disappeared inside the building. I have a team looking for her. She was the one who put the roadkill in the locker room. We have that on security footage. I really need to speak to her.”

“She’s fiercely loyal to her brother. I don’t think she’ll betray him or reveal his whereabouts, no matter what we say or do,” I say, my voice tinged with uncertainty.

Dover looks exhausted and says, “I need to get showered. I’ll meet you afterwards, and then we can head over to their house and see if we can find any leads.”

“They moved out three months ago. We already checked that address,” I tell him.

“Damn,” Dover mutters softly, frustration evident in his voice as he starts walking toward the locker room. “Give me ten minutes. I just need a moment to clean up and clear my head.”

“I’ll wait here for you,” I say, determined not to leave without him.

Pacing nervously up and down the hallway isn’t something I usually do. It’s out of character for me, but right now, I simply can’t help myself. My nerves are frayed, and the tension in the air feels almost tangible. Cheswick, the man I assigned to stand guard outside this corridor, leans against the wall, arms folded, watching me with a smug smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Normally, his attitude would irritate me, maybe even provoke a sharp retort, but at this moment, I’m far too agitated and unsettled to let it get under my skin. My mind keeps circling back to the same question: Why can’t we find Maria Cole? She seems to have vanished without a trace, and it makes no sense.

The building is equipped with a comprehensive network of security cameras, covering almost every angle and corridor. There are only a handful of blind spots throughout the premises, and those are known only to a select few. To disappear so completely, someone would have to possess intimate knowledge of the building’s security layout—knowledge that isn’t easy to come by unless you’re an insider or have done your homework.

As I continue my restless pacing, I reach up and rub the back of my neck, where a persistent itch has taken hold. It’s an old habit of mine, a subconscious signal that something is about to happen—something I might not be prepared for.

Just then, Dover emerges from the locker room, his expression grim and serious. In his hand, he’s holding a small slip of paper, and the look on his face tells me everything I need to know—whatever news he’s bringing, I’m not going to like it. Without a word, he strides over to me, his footsteps echoing in the tense silence.

“Watch your back.” Dover reads the note as he hands me the note. “It was left tucked inside my shoe.” The weight of the words sends a fresh wave of unease through me.

“Fuck me!” I mutter under my breath, frustration boiling over. “This is going to stop tonight. I’m not letting it go on any longer.”

I turn sharply to Cheswick, who’s been stationed at the entrance all evening. “Did you record everyone who entered tonight?” I ask, my tone clipped and urgent.

He nods, a little too quickly, as if eager to reassure me.

I narrow my eyes, pressing further. “Did you have a bathroom break? Did you leave your post for any other reason at all?” My voice is insistent, demanding absolute clarity.

Cheswick hesitates, his eyes darting away for a brief moment, but in that pause, the truth is already clear.