Page 21 of Your Masked Haunting

Coach Rafferty said the duo would be a perfect fit with us since we’re all pricks. He loves us, truly, but he might love poking fun at us even more. He’s damn good at what he does, as is our general manager, and bringing these guys in is going to be game-changing for our team. Annoyingly, I think he’s right.

Ledger Knight, number eleven, has made quite the name for himself. He’s a fucking dick and brutal on the ice. He’s got a killer right hook, but his left is even stronger. I know from personal experience. He’s six foot five, two hundred and thirty pounds of pure fucking muscle, and I’m just glad he’s going to be on our side for once. I was getting damn tired of playing against him.

The same goes for his defensive partner.

Ransom Pierce, number twenty-three, is the devil’s other half. There’s no surprise that Ransom and Ledger are unstoppable together; they’re cut from the same cloth. I swear the both of them would go shot for shot in a boxing ring because their swings are incredibly similar, powerful, and painful.

Ransom has built respect behind his name, and everyone in the room feels it when it’s uttered. Off the ice, he visits children’s hospitals regularly, donates to charity, and coaches youth hockey when he can. I mean, it feels like he’s got to be compensating for something crazy, atoning for an ungodly sin. Like murder.

There’s no way a man who’s hotheaded as hell on the ice, malicious, and merciless can be that good. He’s got a dark side—I’m sure of it. Both of them do.

Ransom’s got an inch on Ledger’s height, standing six foot six, same as Bates. Ransom’s leaner than Ledger, but he’s faster—ridiculously so. Faster than a lot of forwards in the league. He also scores more than most D-men, leading the league last season for defensemen.

Ledger and Ransom are like the three of us in the sense that they’ve played together nearly their entire careers, since as far back as high school. They know each other’s game play like the back of their hands. That chemistry and dynamic are impossible to replicate in a short time, which is also why they’re so deadly.

I have no fucking idea how we managed to score them. I mean, I know how—I saw the trade. It’s just still unbelievable. We had to give six guys for the two of them, some of whom we’ll definitely miss on the ice. But it’ll be worth it in the end.

Giving the Pythons six guys still doesn’t feel like enough for this trade though. The Sinners’ budget had to have skyrocketed. These two are as highly sought out as Bates, Kol, and I are.

Outside of our veteran defensemen and brothers, Emil and Rurik Barkov, Ledger and Ransom are at the top. They’re probably even better than our guys, to be honest; I’m just a bit biased and maybe a bit jaded, given the outcome of last year’s finals, when their team took the Cup from us.

These bastards are walking in with a ring already in their pocket, a ring that should’ve been ours. But it’s fine. This year is ours, to whatever end. Between our new guys, our management, and our coaching team, the Sinners are fucking unstoppable.

Today, we finally get to meet them as teammates and not as rivals. They’re coming to this morning’s skate, and I’m excited to see them on the ice.

Even though this is a lighthearted scrimmage, it’s still a good chance to see how the five of us will work together. Hopefully, we’ll be able to train as much as possible before practice officially begins. If the coaches want to win, they’ll put us in the same shift. But I have no doubt that’s already the plan.

“Heads-up,” Kol murmurs, gliding beside me as I fire another shot into the empty net. “They’re here.”

Turning to the right, I skate beside Kol, my gaze landing on the two we’ve been waiting for, emerging from the depths of the tunnel.

Ransom breaks the tension on his face with an easy smile, offering a salute. I nod back, as I’m sure the rest of us do.

They reach the edge of the boards in ten long strides, geared up and as intimidating as ever. I have to remind myself that they’re wearing our jerseys now—deep burgundy, complemented with pink, black, and white. Maybe not literally in this moment, but in the ways that matter.

“Hey. I’m Ransom.” He introduces himself, as if we wouldn’t know, sticking his hand out to shake Bates’s and then mine, which I take firmly before he ends with Kol. “It’s good to see you guys again.”

He’s a bit less aggravating when he doesn’t have that gleam in his eyes that looks like he wants to kill me. Amusement lights up his dark green gaze, as if he can read the thoughts in my mind. Which may be annoying now, but will be good on the ice.

Securing my glove back in place, I flex my fingers and turn my attention to Ledger, who’s studying us intently. His eyes are the stark opposite of Kol’s on the blue spectrum. Where Kol’s are light and almost gray, Ledger’s are the deepest blue, with specks of night.

His deep voice cuts the silence. “I’m Ledger. Glad to be here.” He’s not fooling me with that tone. I laugh quietly, and his gaze locks on to me, daggers in his stare.

“I mean, it’s obvious from that beaming smile; the excitement is overwhelming.” I flip my stick over and over in my hands as his jaw tightens. Tough crowd.

He’s going to have to remove his own stick out of his ass if he’s going to play with us. We have fun on the ice. Yes, we’re also stressed and giving the game every single ounce of ourselves we have, but at the end of the day, we play because we love it.

“Maybe you should focus on the game and not your jokes, and we’d all be better off for it.” The first spark of amusement ignites in his eyes, tipping my lips into a smirk.

“There we go. See, now you’re having fun.” I chuckle, and so does he, the air lightening between us. “I’m Casper. You can call me Cas.”

“I remember you. You’re fast, and you have a killer corner shot.”

“Holy shit, and now I get a compliment. You’re warming up already.” I pause, fighting my shit-eating grin. “I think you might secretly love me. Is that why you agreed with the trade? Just to get close to me? A fucking flirt this guy is.”

Even he can’t help but smirk, fighting a laugh of his own. “We might have to go back to Florida actually.”

Bates cuts in, “I bet you’re freezing.”