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Walker gaped at him. “You take that back right now, Lancaster. Iamfunny. And certainly funnier than Hero and Rookie.”

Ari cocked his head, wrapping the tape on his stick for the second time of the evening. “Are you though, are you?”

Walker glanced at Lincoln, his eyes like a little puppy dog’s as he waited for Lincoln to step in.

Lincoln wasn’t listening; he had a…terrifying look on his face that told me he was getting in the zone. His ankle seemed to be all healed up. He had ended up being able to play for a period last game and had even scored a goal. That made me feel a little less nauseated, that we had him on our side.

Ari snorted. “Golden Boy is being spooky sexy right now. He’s not going to help you with this one, Disney.”

Walker’s fist went to his lips, and from the looks of it, he’d just thrown up in his mouth.

Fuck. It was one thing for me to be nervous…but quite another for our goalie to be feeling it this bad.

I cleared my throat. “Um, Linc?”

He glanced over, seeming unimpressed that I was daring to interrupt his…whatever he was doing. I nodded at Walker, although I was really referring to myself. “Maybe a speech or something would be good.”

Lincoln eyed Walker like his nerves were contagious and shook his head. He moved to the center of the locker room, though, his skates clacking softly on the floor. “All right, boys,” he started, his voice low but steady. Everyone immediately stopped talking and turned their attention to Lincoln like he’d actually yelled.

“Tonight—it’s different. Tonight, everything we’ve fought for, everything we’ve sacrificed, comes down tothisgame. One shot. One chance to write our names into the history books.”

His eyes swept over us, and the tension in the room shifted. It wasn’t anxiety anymore. It was focus. Raw, burning focus.

“They’ll tell you it’s just another game,” he continued, his voice hardening. “But we know better. This isthegame. The one we’ve bled for all season. You’ve got bruises from the last six games? Good. That means you’ve been fighting. You’re tired? Hell, Ihopeyou’re tired, because that means you’ve been giving everything you’ve got. But let me tell you something—tired doesn’t matter. Pain doesn’t matter. Not tonight.”

I swallowed hard, feeling my heart thump harder in my chest.

Lincoln clenched his fists, pacing in front of us now. “We know what’s waiting for us out there. We’ve seen it. We’vefeltit. But none of that matters. What matters is this room, right here.Us.The Dallas Knights.”

He stopped in front of Walker, those sharp eyes locking on him for just a beat.

“We’ve been in the trenches together. We’ve crawled out of every damn hole they’ve tried to bury us in. And now? Now we’re here, with the Cup hanging right in front of us.” His voice grew harder, every word hitting like a punch. “They don’t think we can do it. They’re waiting for us to fold. But we’re not folding. Not tonight. Tonight, we show the world who we are.”

He stepped back, eyes blazing. “You’ve got sixty minutes to play the game of your life. Sixty minutes to leave everything you’ve got on that ice. You’re not skating for yourself. You’re skating for the guy next to you. You’re skating for every bruise, every hit, every fucking moment that got us here.Thisis our night.”

I felt the fire surge through me, the same fire I could see in every other guy in that room. It was like Lincoln had struck a match, and we were all ready to burn for that Cup.

Lincoln’s voice dropped again, the final edge of intensity hanging on every word. “So, let’s go out there, and let’s take what’s ours.”

With that, he slammed his stick against the floor, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot. One by one, we stood, the energy boiling up, the tension snapping into something sharp, something deadly. This wasn’t just a game anymore. It was a battle.

I locked eyes with Walker, who looked slightly less green. He gave me a tight nod, his eyes gleaming with the same fire that was roaring through my veins.

Ari raised his stick in the air. “And now…we dance.”

We all glanced at him, right as “Shake It Off” started blaring through the locker room speakers.

Lincoln huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Hell of a speech, Golden Boy,” Ari said, his eyes gleaming. “I’m feeling inspired. But tradition is tradition.”

“Kill me now,” Lincoln groaned.

“Not happening, Cap. We’reshaking it off.”

I started with my “moonwalk,” and Camden grumbled about me stealing his move.

Within seconds, the room devolved into chaos. Walker, evidently void of his previous nerves, jumped up onto the bench, pumping his fists in the air and yelling the lyrics like his life depended on it. Camden was doing some kind of interpretive dance that looked more like he was trying to dodge invisible punches, and Ari…had taken center stage, belting out the words like he was auditioning forThe Voice.