Chapter 8 Just A Little Violent

RHYSAND

“Holy shit,” someone mutters, and a few sticks tap the ice in reluctant applause.

Even Coach nods, and a grim smile cracks his face as he briefly glances at his wrist. “It took you forty seconds, Calloway.”

Fuck, not even the slowest on my team back in Cornell skated end-to-end in forty s...

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