The air shifted the moment the puck hit the ice.

A sharp clack echoed through the arena as Davina Carter snapped forward like a released spring, stick slicing down with flawless precision. She took control, blade cradling the puck as she darted into enemy territory, flanked tightly by Tessa Blake.

But Weybridge Academy wasn't here to play nice.

Their offence stormed forward, ruthless and relentless, and the Phantoms were forced to drop back into formation, five shadows in black, white, and royal blue, drawing a line in the ice that Weybridge kept trying to shatter.

From the stands, Declan leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. His gaze flicked over the furious motion of the rink, brows slightly furrowed. "Won't they tire out faster starting this aggressive?"

Sky didn't even glance away from the game.

"In hockey, they don't stay on the ice long enough to burn out. Line changes happen fast. Real fast."

True to his word, the girls rotated fluidly, but the core line: Davina, Tessa, Arya, Daphne, and Brianna held the pressure like they'd been born on skates. Every stride countered, every hit absorbed.

Then an opening.

It was small, but Davina saw it before anyone else. She darted into the breach like a spark through dry grass, passing sharp to Tessa, who accelerated down the right flank, copper hair streaking behind her.

The announcer's voice cracked through the roar of the crowd: "Blake and Carter break away, look at that chemistry! The Phantom captain and right wing move like they're tethered, surgical with those passes, clean, fast—"

The crowd surged louder as Weybridge defenders closed in. Tessa skated backwards for a heartbeat, stick angled with eerie calm.

Then

Clack.

A perfect drop pass.

Arya Hudson appeared like lightning, catching the puck with effortless grace. She wound up and

Slap.

The puck screamed past the Weybridge goalie and into the net.

The arena exploded.

Jordan was already half-standing, eyes wide. "Did you see that?" he grinned, practically shouting over the cheers. "She didn't even blink."

"Textbook placement," Bennett murmured, expression unreadable but gaze fixed on Arya. "She didn't just shoot. She knew where it would land before she touched it."

Even Declan gave a small, impressed nod.

"They made that look easy."

Sky leaned back with a crooked smile.

"That's Arya. She doesn't play the game. She dances through it."

Tyler was smirking too, quietly. "And they're just getting started."

⸻

The scoreboard blinked: 2-1, Weybridge Academy.

The crowd was humming with tension, buzzing in the anxious lull before the next storm. Dominic leaned forward, voice pitched low beside Naomi. "You enjoying it?"

Naomi nodded, eyes still fixed on the ice.

"Are you kidding? This is incredible."

The game had drawn them all in. Even Bennett had shifted to the edge of his seat, arms folded loosely, attention sharp. Declan's gaze tracked every pass like he was analyzing movement patterns in a war zone. Jordan was bouncing his leg and muttering every few seconds.

The original starting line was back on the ice, and the momentum changed instantly.

Davina controlled the center with clinical precision, her stick flicking out to steal possession before Weybridge could complete a pass. She twisted and redirected the puck to Arya, who spun around an advancing defender so fast it made the girl stumble.

Arya passed it forward, and Tessa caught it without looking gliding over the blue line like she'd been waiting for this exact moment.

Then she stopped. Reeled back.

Crack.

A wicked slapshot from the blue line cut through the air like a missile. The puck slammed into the top corner of the net before the goalie even twitched.

The crowd erupted.

Tessa gave the smallest smirk, barely a twitch of her mouth, before skating backward into position like she'd done nothing special.

The applause hadn't even fully died down before Weybridge retaliated with ruthless speed. They pushed hard on the counterattack, weaving and darting until they slipped through the Phantom defense, aiming dead center on goal.

"Intercepted by Venturi!" the announcer boomed.

Daphne swept in like a phantom herself, stick cleanly slicing the puck off course. The shot never even made it to Maya.

But before the play could reset, a Weybridge forward slammed into Daphne from behind hard.

The crowd gasped. Tyler surged halfway out of his seat, fists clenched.

Boom.

Tessa rocketed into the offender like a tidal wave with a grudge. They collided with brutal force, both skidding back, but Tessa was already upright, shoving herself between the forward and her teammate.

The refs blew their whistles, but the crowd was already on its feet. Daphne pushed herself up, nodding once to signal she was fine. She tapped Tessa's shoulder briefly, and the girls reformed into their lines.

Declan let out a low whistle of his own.

"They really don't let anyone touch each other, do they?"

Sky shrugged with quiet admiration.

"They play like a unit."

Jordan leaned over. "Have they always been like this?"

Tyler's expression darkened. "They have to."

Dominic nodded, gaze distant. "Last season. Playoff game. Tessa and Davina were skating a breakaway, side by side, like they always do."

Sky's voice dropped, unusually serious. "A defender from the other team slammed into Tessa full force, shoulder to chest. She flew back so hard, her momentum knocked Davina off balance too."

Tyler's jaw clenched. "They both hit the ice hard. Tessa didn't move. Davina tried to get up and just... collapsed again."

Jordan's smirk faded. "Damn."

Bennett's eyes flicked toward the ice, unreadable. Declan's fingers curled slightly on his knee.

"They couldn't stand," Dominic added quietly. "Had to be helped off. Concussions. Bruised ribs. They were done for the season."

Sky blew out a breath. "It was brutal. And just like that, the Phantoms lost their captain and alternate captain."

Jordan whistled. "So what happened?"

"Arya," Tyler said simply. "She stepped up. Took the captain band, moved the lineup around."

Sky grinned faintly. "Dropped eight goals on them."

Declan blinked. "Alone?"

"Alone," Dominic confirmed.

The Musketeers exchanged quiet glances, tension mixing with growing admiration.

Tyler said it last, soft but firm. "We don't stay down."

⸻

The scoreboard glared 2–2. Less than a minute on the clock. The crowd was on the edge of their seats, a thousand heartbeats holding still.

Naomi leaned forward, breath caught. "Wait... Arya scored. Tessa scored. So... is Davina going for it next?"

Dominic shook his head. "Davina doesn't play for glory."

"She plays to win," Tyler added, eyes tracking the puck.

"And the other team knows it," Sky said. "They'll mark her like she's radioactive."

On cue, Weybridge launched an offensive break. The puck cut across the ice like a bullet but Davina was there. Behind her own net. Smooth, surgical.

"Intercepted by Carter," the announcer boomed.

Davina barely looked before sending the puck gliding to Daphne, who fielded it with balletic ease. Daphne's eyes flicked up once before her stick shot the puck like a sniper's aim toward Arya.

And then she was off, number 13 slicing through defenders like a wildfire. Tessa mirrored her on the right, skating in tandem, their sticks snapping the puck back and forth with clean, blistering precision.

But the defence swarmed. Tessa got boxed in, two players pressing her in tight against the boards.

Arya growled under her breath, pivoted, and slammed the puck against the back board with a practiced strike. It rebounded fast, too fast.

And then

Davina Carter appeared.

From nowhere. From everywhere.

She flew down center ice like she'd been waiting the entire game for this moment, snatched the puck from mid-ice chaos, and slammed it into the net just as the buzzer screamed.

The rink exploded.

The crowd rose in a single roar. Phantom scarves spun through the air. Teammates surged from the bench.

On the bleachers, Naomi was yelling. So was Jordan. Even Bennett had a ghost of a grin tugging at his mouth.

Dominic shook his head in awe. "Okay... maybe sometimes Davina does like the glory."

Naomi's eyes were on the ice, on Daphne in the swarm of victory, on Tessa's rare, proud smirk, on Arya lifting her arms with a holler.

And in the middle of it all, calm and commanding...Davina Carter. Captain. Winner.