Page 86 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

He was thinking about avoiding injuries for the playoffs, not the monsters lurking in the woods.

Yeah right.

Arlo: That happened a few years ago too. There are tons of dead trees on the property

Jin: Wait, are you without power in the woods?

Jett: Yeah, and cell reception is getting spotty too? Must be the storm

Jin: Or the ghosts

Jett: Fuck you

étienne: Do you need me to send help? I know someone in Halifax who I could call.

Jett: Harrison has it handled. He has a whole emergency system in place and a garage full of fuck knows what, but thanks Leroux

Arlo: He’s fucking neurotic. He’ll get them out

étienne: -thumb up emoji-

Arlo: Where is he? Did you find the candle stash?

Jett: Getting firewood, so he should be back anytime

He looked up from his phone. Harrison had been gone for a while, but Jett wasn’t concerned. He was probably chopping wood or something.

Jin: I bet he has a lot of wood

Arlo: Gross

étienne: Goodnight.

Jett: Hands off my man, Par k

Jin: Come on, I’m alone on Christmas and I ran out of quests to do in Dreamlight Valley. Give me something to think about in the shower later

Arlo: Let’s not. Also, can’t you find anyone who’s into pink hair in Ottawa?

Jin: Not anyone attractive

Bash: I can be on the next plane

Jett: -shocked face emoji-

Arlo: -eggplant and water drops emoji-

Jin: You sent me a dick pic and I told you I’m not interested. I have standards

Jett laughed and checked the time. Another five minutes had passed, and still no sign of Harrison.

Jett: Harrison is still outside so I’m going to rescue him. I’m worried the bigfoot got him.

Jin: August Snow is in Nova Scotia?

The thump of boots on the porch steps was loud in the quiet, and Jett let out a breath. Harrison had perfect timing; he needed a distraction, or he was going to use up his phone battery.

He dropped his phone on the couch and got up to help Harrison carry the wood inside. The door opened, bringing in a huge gust of wind that blew out the majority of the candles, plunging him into darkness once more.

“Shit!” Jett raced to the kitchen to find the lighter. “Harrison, close the door before all the candles go out.”

He flicked the lighter on and started lighting the nearest candles, shivering from the cold air sweeping in.

When the door remained open and Harrison continued to stand in the doorway, a throb of warning deep inside his core brought Jett to a stop. All the blood in his veins turned to ice, and with a sickening realization—he knew he was in danger.

His hand was steady when he set the lighter on the counter and directed his attention to the person standing in his doorway. It was too dark to make out their face, but it wasn’t Harrison. This person was shorter than his boyfriend, and he was wearing more gear than a winter coat .

“Who are you?” Jett asked even as his throat started spasming with fear.

The person stepped inside, prowling forward like a wolf ready to pounce and tear flesh. The orange glow from the dying fire was just enough to illuminate the face of the intruder, and Jett felt his heart plummet to his feet.

“Don’t recognize me?” Mike asked, giving Jett a smile that showed too many teeth. His eyes were filled with rage, and all that rage was pointed at Jett. “Fucking cunt. You always did think you were better than me.”

“Mi-Mike?” Jett had entered the state of fight or flight, but even with his heart galloping in his chest hard enough to rattle his teeth, a strange calmness was creeping through him. “Why are you here? Where’s Harrison?”

“That homo cripple?” Mike shrugged, and the movement snagged Jett’s attention, drawing it to the axe he was holding in his hand. “I cracked his head open and left him in the snow.”

No.

No.

“You’re lying.” There was a kitchen island between them. He might have enough time to run for the back door. He knew where Harrison was; he just had to get to him. “You wouldn’t kill anyone—not when you would end up in jail.”

Mike raised the axe and brought it down on the island counter, splitting the marble with a loud crack. “You get three meals and a roof over your head in jail. That’s not a bad deal, and I’ll have memories of us to keep me happy until my dad gets me out.”

Jett hadn’t reacted to the axe, but he did react to Mike’s words. “Memories? Us?”

There was a sinister tilt in Mike’s smile, and Jett understood too well what was about to happen to him. He had felt the same way when Mike pinned him to the wall at the Windsor Arena and threatened to force his cock into his mouth to shut him up.

“You’re my friend,” said Jett, and although the sting was muted by every other emotion running through him, he still felt it. “Why do you want to hurt me? ”

Mike barked a chilling laugh that had his hair standing on end. “Because thinking about hurting you helps get me off. This is your fault, Jetty. If you hadn’t started giving me attitude when I was the one who made you , then I wouldn’t have given this night so much thought.”

“Attitude?”

Could he reach a knife? Would he be able to stab Mike hard enough to kill him before he brought the axe down?

“When did I give you attitude?”

Mike yanked the axe out of the counter, not taking his eyes off him. “Talking back to me during our game and running your mouth in front of my teammates. Not taking orders when I gave them to you, and then you put that fucking restraining order on me.”

Mike took a step, but Jett held his ground.

“And you pushed me away,” Mike continued, and Jett knew he was talking about the argument in the hall.

“A faggot like you should have been on your knees drooling at the thought of my cock fucking your whore mouth. Especially you, Jetty. You’ve been my little bitch since we were kids—you were supposed to wait for me to join you in Toronto, but you let that cocksucker touch you . ”

Harrison.

Oh god, he hurt Harrison.

He couldn’t hide his anguish, and Mike grinned at the sight. “Don’t be sad, Jetty. We still have time—I’m going to show you what it could have been like between us if you hadn’t been such a slut . I’m a good guy. I can give you that at least.”

Another step, and this time Jett did back away.

“A gun would have made what comes after less messy, but as you can see, I’ve improvised.” Mike held the axe up like he was showing it off, and the words triggered something in Jett’s memory that had been lost in the waves of the adrenaline rush.

“They took all mine away after you sent your lawyer after me, so that’s another thing you’ll be sorry for in the end. But I’ll make you apologize for it later.”

Another step.

Jett shifted his posture and prepared to run .

“Now be a good boy and come here. I’m going to fuck you stupid on that cripple’s bed, and then paint the walls with your fucking blood.”

Jett had always been fast, even as a kid. And even as a kid, Mike had been strong and cruel.

This might have always been their fate, but Jett never imagined that while Mike had been picking wings off butterflies, he was picturing Jett as the butterfly.

Legs pumping, Jett sprinted to the spare bedroom, his socks slipping on the hardwood floor. A solid mass of muscle and fury slammed into him, crushing his newly-healed shoulder into the wall.

A burst of pain and colour exploded in his vision, but he was a goddamn hockey player, and he knew how to take a fucking hit.

Jett threw his elbow back, making contact with something soft and crunchy—a nose. Mike’s scream was loud enough to make his ears ring, but he was already on his feet and staggering to the room.

“Fucking bitch !”

A hand grabbed his foot and yanked him back down. Jett landed hard—but good—and he kicked his feet, trying to make contact anywhere he could. It was too dark to see what he was doing, but he knew where to aim so long as Mike was touching him.

He was dragged backward, his bare arms squeaking against the wooden floor as the skin was rubbed off. Jett hissed and shook off the pain, still kicking his feet wildly until the clatter of the axe dropping to the floor rang through the hall, and then two hands were on him.

“Knew you’d be a good fuck,” Mike said, talking through ragged gasps of breath. He pinned Jett’s legs and started pulling himself up his body, laughing like he was having fun . “Blonds always get me hard, Jetty. You know that.”

Jett fought madly, crying out in anger. He was pinned on his stomach, and Mike had control of his legs, but he wasn’t going to give up. His body, mind and soul wouldn’t let him.

A sudden pain raked through his body, so startling he couldn’t rally the oxygen to scream.

Mike was biting him on the ass hard enough to either break skin or left him with a horrid bruise.

It didn’t last long because Mike needed his mouth to threaten him more than he needed it to inflict physical pain .

“Can’t fucking wait.”

Hot breath burned Jett’s lower back.

“You’re mine, Jett.”

Nails dug into his shoulder, clawing for his throat.

“ Mine .”

It wasn’t fear or despair that filled him—it was rage. He belonged to no one but himself. No one . He gave his heart to people willingly, or not at all. And no matter what happened tonight, Mike would never take that away from him.

“You fucking pussy,” Jett snarled over his shoulder. “You think a little man like you can take me? I can’t feel your dick poking me, Mike, but I’ve seen you naked so I’m not surprised.”

It was a stupid thing to say to a man intent on killing him, but he knew Mike well enough to know what words would cut him deepest—what words would have him reaching for the axe instead of his throat.

He would have only one chance and not enough time, but he knew what he had to do now, and there was no turning back.

“You—”

The weight on his back lifted, and Jett shoved himself onto his feet.

“You’re dead, Jett! Dead !”

The distance between him and his target closed.

“I’m going to separate your fucking head from your body!”

The curtains in the spare room were open—allowing just enough light.

Jett fell to his knees next to the bed.

“Spill your fucking guts on the floor!”

Hands reaching under the bed, fingers curling around cold steel.

“Bathe in your goddamn blood!”

Jett swung the shotgun toward the door, finger gripping the trigger.

“I’ll—”

Mike went motionless, chest heaving as his eyes locked on the barrel of the gun. Even as he looked death in the eye, he still had the audacity to smile.

“A queer like you doesn’t know how to use a gun,” he spat, but he didn’t come any closer.

“Doesn’t take a fucking genius.” Jett’s hand was steady. He smiled at Mike, hoping to convey just how confident he felt. “All I have to do is press the magic button.”

Mike said nothing. He didn’t move as he weighed his options, deciding on whether to attack or defend.

“Jett…don’t pull the trigger.”

The voice that spoke wasn’t Mike’s, it was—

“This ugly fucker is a waste of ammo. Let me take care of him.”

Harrison—it was Harrison in the hallway. Jett couldn’t see him because he was on the other side of the wall, but Mike was looking down the hall, slowly lifting his axe in warning.

Did Harrison have a weapon? Was he hurt?

“ You take care of me ?” Mike threw back his head and laughed. “A crippled homo like you? You’re kidding me.”

He didn’t have a weapon. Mike’s posture was too confident, his tone too taunting.

“There’s only one homo in this place, and I’m looking right at him,” said Harrison, and Jett could picture that cocky grin of his, and knew what kind of reaction it would get. “I bet you can’t wait to be bitched in prison. Is that why you’re going through all this effort?”

Jett was two seconds away from pulling the trigger. What was Harrison doing ? What the hell was he doing?!

The axe jerked in Mike’s grip. “The fuck did you say?”

Harrison chuckled darkly, and the sound had Jett breaking into cold sweat.

“Did I fucking stutter, Mikey? You seem so desperate to go to prison, is it because then you can get dicked down without having to ask for it. It’s not gay if it’s in prison, right?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Mike bellowed, and then all his attention was on Harrison—not Jett. “I’ll fucking kill you—”

“I have a big cock too if you need it that bad,” Harrison shouted over Mike’s hollering. “All you have to do is ask, and I’ll give it to you, Mikey. I know you want it—so come get it .”

There was a suspended moment of silence where all Jett could hear was the frantic beating of his heart. It was like the moment before lightning struck the earth, destroying everything in its path .

And then—to Jett’s horror—Mike charged in Harrison’s direction, disappearing out of sight.