LIAM

Liam stepped into the Wolverine’s arena with a mixture of awe and tension humming beneath his skin, the cold air inside a sharp contrast to the warmth pressing against his chest. His heartbeat was erratic—thudding like a drumline—as nerves tangled with a heady dose of anticipation.

This moment, it wasn’t just another day.

It was the first page of a new chapter—a new beginning.

He paused just past the threshold, taking a deep breath as the enormity of it all settled on his shoulders.

He was here. Really here. About to meet his new team—at least whoever had arrived early.

He’d see the gym and the locker room, get a feel for the place and maybe get a sense of whether or not this would feel like home.

As he moved forward, footsteps echoed slightly on the polished concrete floor. He caught sight of a few figures down the hallway near the training wing. His breath hitched.

No way…

Jett Acton. Kenneth Salas. His gaze sharpened as recognition flickered across their faces. He’d played against them before —felt the sting of their speed, their power, their precision on the ice. He hadn’t just respected them; he’d feared them in the best way.

And now, they were on his side?

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, tentative but real. Boy, this was a good sign that they were going to have a strong team.

He already knew, from a late-night conversation with the coaching staff, that at least one or two transfers from the North Texas Coyotes were on their way in. This team wasn’t here to warm benches or just make the playoffs. They were building something real. Something formidable.

As the tour began, Liam found himself walking through the facility in a quiet state of wonder. He couldn’t hide it. He didn’t want to. Every hallway gleamed, and every detail was dialed in with surgical precision. This wasn’t just a team—it was an empire in the making.

The organization clearly wasn’t messing around. They wanted the Cup. Not just eventually, not someday — this season. The intention was unmistakable, etched into every square foot of the space. And Liam could feel that energy bleeding into his bones. They had spared no expense, and it showed.

He wandered deeper, eyes wide as a kid in a toy store.

The weight room alone was leagues ahead of anything he’d ever trained in—heck, it looked like it belonged in a science fiction film.

There were high-tech scales embedded with sensors to track hydration and muscle mass and a massive water tank with an underwater treadmill that looked like it could double as a NASA experiment.

A skating simulator occupied an entire corner, complete with a wraparound screen and motion feedback. Weighted leg straps. Cryotherapy units. Recovery lounges. Everyw here he turned, it was clear—this place was made for champions.

Frankly, he was impressed.

No—he was floored.

And then he reached the locker room.

His steps slowed as he entered, breath catching in his throat. It was silent in here but thick with promise. The walls gleamed, the lighting was warm and intentional, and the air held that familiar, comforting mix of fabric softener, fresh leather, and anticipation.

His eyes scanned the rows of open cubbies, each one thoughtfully prepared. Freshly sharpened skates. Brand-new uniforms. Helmets gleaming under the lights. It was like walking into a dream.

He walked past each nameplate, nodding slightly, his fingers brushing the smooth edges of a jersey here, the curve of a helmet there.

Some names he recognized. Others, he didn’t.

But every single one carried weight. These were strong players.

Fierce defenders. Aggressive goalies with reputations that preceded them.

A slow, satisfied smile curved his lips.

They weren’t just building a team.

They were building a legacy. And Liam was going to be a part of it. His fingers touched his nameplate, unable to fight the excitement bubbling within him as he traced the letters, letting his ego swell as anticipation and anxiety raced down his spine, filling him.

Captain .

Liam stood in the quiet locker room, his eyes trailing over the list of names on the roster posted to the bulletin board.

Each one carried weight—some names he’d grown up watching, others he’d battled on the ice, and a few were already legends in their own right.

His name, Liam Savage, looked oddly out of place, atop all of them with a large ‘C’ beside his name.

It felt surreal.

The soft creak of footsteps behind him broke his thoughts.

“What do you think?”

The voice was low, gravelly, with years of authority behind it. Liam turned, his heartbeat thudding just a little faster. Coach Starnes stood a few feet away, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The man had the presence of someone who didn’t need to raise his voice to command a room.

“I think I’m really glad to be here,” Liam said honestly. His voice came out steady, but inside, there was a storm brewing—uncertainty, pressure, disbelief.

“I think you’ll be a good fit once you get your footing, young man. I’ve been watching you for a while now, and I think you’ll make a wonderful captain for the team,” the coach told him.

Liam blinked, stunned by his blind faith in him. He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. His hand lifted, pointing at the list.

“Each one of these men is incredible on the ice. Boucher is the captain of the Coyotes already and has more experience at…”

“Stop,” Coach Starnes interrupted gently, though his voice held steel beneath the calm.

His eyes didn’t waver. “Boucher is a captain – yes. I am not going to lie to you, Savage. He was going to be our captain before we signed you, but there are a few things we need to clear up on the back end. The reason I pushed so hard for you is because of your image and your name.”

Liam’s throat tightened. He hadn’t expected this. His mind r eeled with what it meant—what the coach really saw in him.

“You are what people look for,” Captain Starnes began and chuckled.

“Just look at you. You’re the whole package.

You’ve got the whole ‘ Captain America’ look to you – blond hair, muscles, that proud stance without coming off as egotistical…

and people respond to that. You’ve encouraged players on the ice, and you don’t yell or get upset.

You have your own way of rising to be seen without making a scene – and when you realize that, you’ll be unstoppable. ”

It was as if the coach saw right through him—past the practiced calm, the forced humility, straight to the doubts Liam had buried deep. He’d always tried to lead quietly, to prove himself with action, not volume. But to hear it called out so plainly?

“But, but Boucher or…” Liam tried again, reaching for logic, for an out that made more sense.

“Once you realize that you are the captain of this team, you will be unstoppable,” Coach Starnes repeated, his tone firmer now, with no room for argument. “You aren’t the coach, you aren’t a pushover, you aren’t their buddy… you are their captain, their mentor, and you will be fine.”

Liam’s chest felt tight. He wanted to believe it, but it was a heavy mantle to wear. One that came with expectations he wasn’t sure he could live up to. “Are you sure?”

“Yes – but you have to believe it too,” the coach said, a deep frown creasing his brow.

“Now, why don’t you go meet the guys who have arrived.

We’ve got several others that are showing up this week and should have our team here by Saturday.

We’ll be having a get-together to meet everyone, and I want you there.

Bring your wife. Kiss a few babies, shake hands, and be present as our captain.

Keep that whole fear tucked deep down inside, young man,” Coach Starnes said i n a hushed voice, giving him a knowing look.

“Everyone has doubts and fears, but I will tell you now – it spreads and will debilitate our team before we hit the ice.”

The weight of his gaze made Liam shift and made him swallow again. The coach’s tone hardened, cutting through Liam’s hesitation.

“Fear is contagious – but so is confidence,” he said firmly. “I want you to put a mask on your face, puff up your chest, and strut out of this room as my captain. Do you hear me? You, Liam Savage, are the captain of Quebec’s Wolverines – and we are going to win the Cup!”

The words lit something inside him. A spark. A dare. A belief he hadn’t fully let himself feel.

“Yes, sir.”

“I cannot hear you…”

“Yes, sir!” Liam said louder, squaring his shoulders, letting the words take root. “I’m your captain – that’s my team – and we’re going to clean up this season.”

“That’s my boy,” the coach chuckled, his features softening with pride. “Good job. Now, I want you to do that again in the mirror tonight and practice looking tough, large, and in charge. You got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Welcome aboard, Captain Savage. I’m glad to have you here.”

The words echoed in Liam’s ears long after Coach Starnes had turned and walked away. He stood there, motionless. His heartbeat thundered in his chest like a drumline; each beat marking the beginning of something that felt monumental.

Captain .

It wasn’t just a title. It was a mantle. A declaration. A silent vow .

He swallowed hard, the weight of those two syllables pressing down on him, sinking into his bones.

This wasn’t just about wearing the ‘C’ on his jersey or giving locker room pep talks.

No, this was about stepping into something far bigger than himself—becoming someone his teammates could count on.

Someone they would follow. Trust. Look up to when the game was on the line, and everything felt like it was falling apart.