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Chapter twenty-two

~ROWAN~

One week. For seven damn days, I’ve been a ball of restless energy, consumed by thoughts of Livia. The fallout from my stupid, impulsive decision lingers and has possessed me. I can’t shake the gut-wrenching feeling that I’ve lost something vital. I can’t play. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat properly. The guys see it. Avery sees it. I see it.

I tried calling Livia, and I’m pretty sure she’s blocked my number. I went over to her place, and she wasn’t home. So, I’ve been doing the only other thing I could think of.

I’ve spent hours diving into stats, meticulously creating charts that showcase Livia’s impact on the team, the kind of data that should scream for her return.

The charity ball she organized? I found out it didn’t just elevate our team. It turned us into a trending topic. People are talking about the Panthers like never before. While the previous PR agent struggled to coax me into a single interview, Livia had me talking to cameras and fans like a damn open book. She didn’t just sell us; she made us relatable, human.

I stride through the Panthers’ headquarters, my heart pounding with determination. The folders in my hand are a weapon to get my girl her career back. I’ll make them see her through the team’s eyes.

As I approach the HR office, I see her. Alegra. That smug, sultry smile of hers pulls a sneer from me, making my skin crawl. I already know she’s the snake who reported us, who went to Christina. I saw the way she watched me dance with Livia at the charity ball. Saw that anger in her eyes when I rejected her advances. I knew then she was going to do something fucking shady, but this? This is next level.

Her friendship with Christina? The yacht parties, the gossip-fueled cocktails? I don’t need to put a magnifying glass on it to know what’s been happening behind the scenes.

“Rowan,” she purrs, her voice dripping with that fake seduction she thinks is charming. “How’s our captain?”

“Ah, I was hoping to run into you.” I greet her, my voice low and edged with fury.

“You were?” Her eyes flash as she stops in front of me. “Finally coming to your senses?”

“Does it feel good to fuck people over?” I answer her question with one of my own. “When you can’t get what you want, is that what you do? Or was that a one-time special?”

“I don’t understand.” She shakes her head with the same smile plastered on her botched face.

“You reported us to HR.” I don’t have time to ease into it.

Her smile falters for a moment, surprise flashing in her eyes before she masks it with a sly smile.

“I just wanted to eliminate any distractions for you. With Livia Moody gone, you can focus on what really matters.” As she drags a nail down my chest, I grab her wrist, twisting it just enough to show the boundaries, pushing her away with a cold glare.

“What really matters?” I echo with a raised brow. “You mean your pathetic attempts to get my attention? You’re a bad joke, Alegra, and it’s as sad as it gets.”

“Excuse me?” Her smile is fully gone now, a scowl in its place.

“You can’t stand seeing a woman outshine you, can you? Especially when she doesn’t have to suck dick to make it happen.”

“Doesn’t she?” Alegra narrows her eyes, the facade cracking as anger bubbles beneath her skin. “Isn’t that exactly what she’s been doing, Rowan?”

“Jealous?” I ask, stepping closer, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “No matter how many times you throw yourself at me, you’ll never know what my dick feels like down your throat.”

“You’re delusional,” she scoffs, her face turning bright red. “I wasn’t throwing myself at you at all. The fact that you see a gorgeous woman and immediately think that she wants to sleep with you is absurd.”

“Is the gorgeous woman in the room with us right now?” I lean in, my breath hot against her ear. “You think I won’t tell? You keep popping up, cornering me, dragging your hand all over me. Do you know how easily I can turn you to dust, Alegra? I’ll sue you for sexual harassment, and I’ll sue you into fucking hell, and trust me, your husband won’t appreciate it when I drop the bombshell.”

I take a step back, my eyes boring into hers, the reality of my words hanging heavy in the air.

“Are you threatening me?” she asks behind gritted teeth.

“You came after the wrong person. The person I care about,” I reply simply. “And I’ve got enough dirt on you to bury you six feet under. The only reason I haven’t yet is because your husband is a good man who made a poor choice when he married you. You’re a joke, Alegra—a walking cliché. You’re not half the woman Livia is, and deep down, you know it. Next time you look my way, you’re done. No more free passes. I’ll be watching, and if I see you lay a finger or even look at one of my guys, I’ll drag your ass through the mud until you wish you never crossed me. Not even the fucking rookies. Do you hear me?”

“How dare you speak to me like this?” she grits out, her tiny shoulders squared. “I’ll have my husband bench you for this.”

“Try and fail. I’m more valuable to your husband than you are.”

With that, I turn and walk away. I’ve made myself clear enough. One more second in her presence, I’ll start losing brain cells.

Clutching the folder in my hand, I make my way to the meeting I called with HR and the manager. I don’t know if what I’ll do will be enough, but I know that I’ll fucking fight tooth and nail for this woman. My woman.

I storm into the meeting room, heart racing and adrenaline surging. Christina and Roger are already here, sitting across the table, looking like they’re ready to dismiss me, but I’m not about to let that happen.

“Thanks for meeting with me,” I say, barely able to contain the restlessness boiling in my gut.

“You blew up my phone,” Christina says with a sigh.

“Yours, too?” Roger turns to her with a humorless laugh.

I slam the folders down on the table, the sound echoing like a gunshot.

“I’ve got stats that’ll make you rethink kicking Livia to the curb.”

“Rowan…” Christina rubs the bridge of her nose as if all of this is a waste of time. It wouldn’t be a waste of time if it was her job on the line.

“Look at this shit.” I rip open the first folder, revealing the charts and graphs that lay out Livia’s impact in black and white. “Engagement is up. Fans are buzzing. She took my ass out of hiding and actually got me to do interviews, something your last PR rep couldn’t manage to pull off for love or money.”

“It’s just numbers, Rowan. We’ve had successful seasons before.” Christina leans back, arms crossed, skepticism written all over her face.

“Filled with scandals. The press has been waiting for us to slip up. We had a bad reputation before Livia came on board.”

“And she fixed it up for you.” Christina flips through the files before closing the folder as if I didn’t spend two days on this shit. “And she messed up her own opportunities in the process. I’m sorry, Rowan. Rules are rules.”

“Then why am I not being held accountable, hm?” I lean in, my voice dropping low. “If you don’t bring Livia back, I’m done. I’ll walk away from this team, and good fucking luck finding someone to replace me.”

“Rowan, I think you’re jumping the gun here,” Roger finally speaks, the chair creaking beneath him.

“No.” I shake my head. “I’m the one holding it.”

I barely get the words out before the door swings open with a sharp bang. Every head turns as Damien and Ares walk in first, the rest of the team filing in behind them like soldiers marching to war. Langley, Mike, and Davidson all walk in, followed by the rest of the team. Christina stiffens, eyes narrowing as the last of the guys take up every inch of available space.

“Gentlemen, this is a private meeting,” Christina raises her voice, trying to reclaim control.

“Not anymore, Chrissy,” Damien says, pulling out a chair and dropping into it.

The guys all turn toward Ares, waiting. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to. With his thick arms crossed over his chest, he simply gives a slow, measured nod toward the table. That’s all it takes. The team moves as one, filling every single seat until the entire round table is occupied, leaving Christina and Roger alone on their side, outnumbered and outmatched.

Ares stays standing by the door, a wall of muscle and intimidation, his pale eyes locked on mine. There’s no hesitation. No doubt. Just a silent message between us that says we’ve got your back.

Then, finally, his deep voice cuts through the tension like a fucking blade.

“Livia Moody is to be reinstated.”

It’s not a question. Not a request. It’s a fucking command.

The weight of his words settles heavy in the air, followed by the murmurs of agreement from the team, the low voices of men who don’t make threats lightly.

“Would you look at that?” I turn to face Christina. “Guess we’re all on the same page.”

“Livia Moody broke a very serious rule.” Christina straightens, pushing back against the pressure.

“And yet,” I say, voice low and even, “you had no problem keeping a PR rep who did jack shit for this team. No problem keeping one who sat on their ass while the media shredded us apart. But the one person who actually gave a damn? You fired her.”

Ares finally moves, slow and calm, stepping forward with the kind of quiet menace that makes men rethink their life choices. He plants his hands on the table and leans in just slightly.

Christina stiffens, just barely, but Ares catches it. His lips curl, something dangerous flashing in his gaze. A long pause stretches out. No one speaks. No one moves.

And that’s when I lean forward, hands on the table, voice deadly calm.

“Let’s cut the bullshit, Christina,” I say, watching her squirm. “We all know what this is. A favor to a friend.”

She opens her mouth, but I don’t let her speak.

“Someone couldn’t stand that she didn’t need to fuck her way to the top to get there.”

A muscle in her jaw ticks, recognition flashing in her eyes. I hear a low chuckle—Damien, enjoying the fucking show.

Christina sucks in a breath, gathering herself, but before she can even try to throw some weak-ass rebuttal my way, Ares snaps his fingers.

The team reacts instantly.

“I want to be traded,” Langley, our goalie, says first, arms crossed. “I’m not playing for a team that treats its own like shit.”

“Same,” Davidson mutters. “You think you can replace our PR rep? Go ahead. But you won’t have a team left to represent.”

One by one, they start speaking up.

“Not playing for this team if she’s not here.”

“She’s one of us.”

“This isn’t a fucking debate.”

The tension in the room cracks under the weight of it, and when I turn to Ares, he’s already looking at me. He gives a slow nod, and it clicks. He planned this. He fucking orchestrated this. He made sure I wasn’t walking in here alone.

For the first time in days, I feel that weight on my chest lighten.

If I wasn’t putting up a front that I was in on this, I would be fucking gawking right now. I bite the insides of my cheeks to keep my lips from parting, yet the warmth spreads through my chest like lava. This is my team. My guys. My family. They saw the state I was in all week and instead of beating me up about it, they decided to fight alongside me.

Christina looks around, her face pale, as she realizes exactly what’s happening. She’s cornered, outnumbered. She doesn’t just have me to deal with; she has an entire team ready to walk if she doesn’t back down.

“Players can’t make demands like this,” Christina scrambles for words while Rogers looks at us with something that’s really close to admiration.

“Can’t they? Cause I’m pretty sure we just fucking did.” I tilt my head to the side.

Christina’s not winning this one. Not when I spent the past week tearing myself apart over this. Not when I watched Livia walk out, humiliated, betrayed, thinking I wouldn’t fight for her.

Not when I know exactly who’s behind this shit.

“You’re bound by contracts. You can’t make demands like this,” Christina repeats as if we haven’t already thought of that.

“Our contracts clearly state that we can be traded.” I shrug. “So, we’ll demand to be traded if she’s not hired back with a new contract. No bullshit clauses about who she can or can’t date.”

The whole team is still seated, waiting. Silent. Expecting.

And when Ares moves, that silence turns dangerous. I already know what’s coming.

Ares stops by the empty chair next to Christina’s, looming, his presence swallowing up the entire fucking room. He doesn’t have to say a word. He doesn’t have to do anything. And yet, she tenses like he’s got a knife to her throat. Yeah, Ares will do that to you.

Then, finally, he speaks. “Who put the bug in your ear about our captain here, hm?”

“That’s confidential.” Christina’s face tightens.

“Not anymore.” Ares tilts his head, voice dropping to something low, even, and terrifying.

He doesn’t look at me, but I know my cue when I hear it. My whole team knows about Alegra’s advances; they’ve all been warned to stay away from her, but Damien and Ares are the two people who’ve heard every single story. They’re the ones who know the full extent of it.

I push off my chair and walk over to the window, where Christina’s stupid little framed awards are sitting on the sill.

“You know,” I muse, picking one up, flipping it over in my hands, “I was really hoping you’d be the one person in this fucking organization with a brain.” I glance at her.

“Rowan, what the hell are you talking about?” Christina exhales sharply. “Are you gonna say something?” she snaps at Roger, who simply shakes his head with a little smirk.

I toss the frame onto the table. It lands with a sharp clack.

“No, let me guess,” I interrupt. “You were given orders, and you,” I gesture to her, smirking, “jumped like a good little puppet.”

She opens her mouth, but Ares doesn’t let her speak.

“Alegra Harrison,” he says smoothly.

“Alegra,” I say, dragging her name out like it tastes like shit in my mouth. “The same Alegra who has been trying to get into my fucking pants since I stepped foot in this building. You knew about it, no? I told you about it the first time it happened. I was still green, fresh out of the AHL. So, you told me to keep quiet if I wanted to keep my spot.”

That’s when Roger’s face changes, his greying eyebrows dipping together in confusion as he looks over to Christina for an explanation.

“Is this true?” Roger asks, turning his chair to face Christina. She goes still. Dead fucking giveaway.

“You said it would end, that it’s just because I’m a new, interesting toy. Well, Christina, it didn’t.” I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest. “While I was getting cornered, touched, and groped without my consent, you kept telling me that it was nothing serious. That it was innocent. And now, that same woman barks an order at you, and you flip on your back like you always fucking have. The same woman who can’t stand seeing another woman actually earn her fucking place here.”

The way Christina flinches tells me everything.

Ares exhales through his nose, slow and controlled.

“I’ll make this easy for you,” he says, taking a step forward. “Alegra Harrison is a fucking problem. And you let her be one.”

“Ares, this doesn’t concern you.” Christina stiffens.

“You should’ve vetted the source before you let a snake whisper in your ear,” Ares continues, like she didn’t even speak. “Because now, she’s hurt not only our brother but our PR rep. And we get to burn her to the fucking ground, you along with her.”

“And I’m gonna enjoy every second of it.” I step up beside him, crossing my arms.

“But that’s not the fun part, is it?” Ares tilts his head, watching them squirm. “No, the real fun part is what happens when the media gets a hold of this. When the photos get leaked, and yes, we have photos.” He nods toward us. “You think these guys make headlines? Wait till the world finds out that Alegra Harrison, wife of the fucking owner, has been spreading her legs for half the city while trying to sabotage one of the best PR reps we’ve had.”

Roger swears under his breath with a laugh. Christina’s face is fucking bloodless.

“Oh, and let’s not forget the juicy part—how she was actively sexually harassing the captain.” Ares’ smirk is razor-sharp. “And me, and poor Davidson over there, and Sam, and…do I need to keep going, Christina?”

“Please, this doesn’t have to…” Christina’s nails dig into the arms of her chair as she falters, taking a deep breath.

“Please?” I scoff. “Now you wanna beg?” I shake my head, taking a slow step toward her desk. “You know, I was gonna let this go. I was gonna get Livia’s job back, walk the fuck out of here, and forget about all the times Alegra came onto me and my team, and you told us to suck it up.” I lean forward, hands braced on the desk. “But now? Now I feel like watching something burn.”

I glance at Ares, who’s watching Christina with the cold, detached stare of a man who’s already won.

“Livia Moody will be reinstated immediately,” he says, voice like granite. “No moral clauses.”

“Done.” Christina exhales shakily.

“He’s not done,” I snap, knowing Ares has more to say.

“Of course not.” She squeezes her eyes shut.

“Alegra Harrison steps anywhere near one of our guys again, and we will leak everything.” His voice dips lower. Darker. Cruel. “And her husband will take the biggest, most humiliating L of his fucking life.”

Christina doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then, finally, she lets out a shaky breath.

“We’ll handle it. We’ll call Livia tomorrow.”

“Today,” I correct her. “You’ll call her today.”

“Today,” Roger reassures me with a nod. Judging by the look on his face, he’s itching to have a conversation with Christina as soon as we leave.

Ares straightens, stepping back. His job is done.

“See?” I smirk and push off the table. “Was that so hard?”

Christina doesn’t respond.

I glance over at Damien, who grins. Ares claps me on the shoulder before moving toward the door. The rest of the guys are watching us like this is the most interesting blockbuster of the year. I motion for them to stand up. Chairs start scraping as they rise to their feet, one by one, and head for the door. Just as I’m about to follow, I turn back to Christina one last time.

“Oh,” I add, flashing my teeth, mocking as fuck, “make sure Livia gets a raise.”

And with that, we all walk out.