Chapter 4 Mutual penalties

The final buzzer sounds like a death knell.

Rey Navarro skates off the ice with her jaw clenched so tight she can hear her own molars grind. The scoreboard glares down like a neon accusation: 3-2. Not in their favor. Again.

Another loss. Another blown lead. And tonight?

Rey knows exactly who cost them the game.

She doesn't wait for the tunnel. Doesn't stop for the fans or the sideline interviews or the endless fucking questions. She rips her helmet off as soon as she clears the ice, breath steaming, curls sticking to her temple. Her gloves hit the wall with a hard thud.

Footsteps echo behind her, but she doesn't turn around.

Not until she hits the locker room door.

Then she pivots, fury coiled tight inside her chest like a grenade with the pin half-out.

And there she is.

Ivy Ransom.

Walking like the loss doesn't touch her. Like the ice didn't betray them both.

The captain's badge on her chest glints under the fluorescents, but all Rey sees is the moment-three minutes left in the third period, Ivy wide open at the blue line, puck on her stick-and she passed it. She passed it.

Right into a turnover. Right into the jaws of the other team's breakaway.

Right into that game-winning goal.

"Un-fucking-believable," Rey mutters, yanking off her chest pad. She tosses it harder than she means to-it slams against her bench and clatters to the floor.

Ivy raises an eyebrow. "You want to say something, Navarro?"

"Oh, I've got plenty," Rey snaps, heat rising in her throat. "Starting with what the hell you were thinking on that last play."

A few teammates glance over but quickly look away. Tension slides in like fog-heavy, damp, inescapable.

"I made a call," Ivy says, cool and clipped. "It didn't work out."

"Didn't work out?" Rey laughs, loud and bitter. "It cost us the game, Ransom."

Ivy pulls off her gloves slowly, like she's unbothered, but Rey knows her too well. That twitch in her jaw? That flicker of tension in her shoulders? She's defensive.

She knows she fucked up.

"And what exactly would you have done?" Ivy shoots back. "You were double-covered on the wing."

"I was open."

"You were a risk."

Rey steps forward. "I'm not the one who choked with the puck."

The room holds its breath.

Across the way, someone coughs. A shin pad clatters to the floor.

Ivy's voice drops to a blade's edge. "You want to blame someone for the loss? Fine. But don't act like you're perfect out there. You whiffed two clears on the penalty kill."

Rey sees red.

"I was bailing your ass out while you floated through your shift like it was a fucking figure skating routine!"

Ivy's face snaps toward hers. "You think I don't care? You think I don't bleed for this team?"

"You care about your image," Rey spits. "Your brand. Your comeback story. But when it comes to the real shit? You vanish."

Ivy surges forward.

And for one terrifying second, Rey thinks she's going to punch her.

Their helmets are off. Guards down. Both still in skates and soaked with sweat, adrenaline crackling like static.

Ivy's breath hisses between her teeth. "Say that again."

Rey doesn't flinch. "You don't deserve to wear that C."

The locker room erupts.

"Hey-whoa-" someone grabs Rey's arm. Another teammate wedges between them, shoving Ivy back.

"Take a walk, both of you," yells Marta, their veteran winger, trying to hold the line. "This is not how we do this."

But Rey's not done. "You think you're some warrior queen out there? You're a liability. You're poison."

Ivy breaks free from the hold. "At least I don't sabotage the team because my ego can't handle a bad shift!"

The captain's badge has never looked more fragile. Like it's holding on by thread.

Coach hasn't entered yet. But the shouting has drawn in staff from the hallway. Two trainers. A reporter with her phone not-so-subtly recording.

Shit.

Too late.

The team captain, Jordan Myles, storms in, face grim. "Enough!"

Everyone freezes.

Rey's chest heaves. Ivy's fists are still clenched at her sides.

Jordan walks right between them, not looking at either of them at first. Then her eyes cut to Rey.

"To the hall. Now."

Rey doesn't move.

Jordan turns to Ivy. "You too. Now."

No one speaks as they're marched into the hallway. Ivy's shoulder brushes Rey's on the way out, and it burns.

Outside, it's quieter. Bare concrete. Closed doors. The hum of distant arena lights.

Jordan rounds on them.

"What the fuck is wrong with you two?"

"She-" Rey starts, but Jordan slices a hand through the air.

"No. I don't care. I watched the whole thing on the monitor. You embarrassed the team. You undermined the locker room. And you nearly came to blows in uniform."

Rey grits her teeth. "She threw the game."

Ivy snarls, "I was trying to win the game. Maybe if you'd stopped showboating-"

"Enough!" Jordan's voice cuts like a slap.

"You two are supposed to lead this team. And right now? You're tearing it apart."

They both fall silent.

Jordan takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly.

"You're both suspended. Two games. No practice. No media."

"What?" Rey shouts. "You're suspending me? She-"

"You both escalated it," Jordan says. "And until you figure your shit out, you're not stepping back on that ice."

Ivy's face goes blank. It's scarier than her rage.

Rey tries to swallow the fire in her throat, but it won't go down. "We need those games. We're already sliding in the standings."

"Then maybe you should've thought about that before you turned the locker room into a brawl," Jordan snaps. "Go home. Cool off. Figure out whether you actually want to be teammates."

Rey watches Jordan disappear back into the arena, leaving them alone under the harsh corridor lights.

For a second, neither of them speaks.

Then Ivy says, low and bitter, "Congratulations. You finally got what you wanted."

Rey turns to her. "What the hell does that mean?"

"You've been gunning for me since day one. Fine. You win. I'm benched. Happy?"

Rey's voice breaks before she can stop it. "Do you think I wanted this?"

Ivy laughs-a hollow, humorless sound. "You sure act like it."

And Rey doesn't know what to say to that.

Because maybe, for a moment-just one stupid, prideful moment-she did want to see Ivy taken down a peg.

But not like this.

Never like this.

Ivy walks away without another word, leaving Rey in the corridor, alone with the weight of everything she can't take back.