Cold Carnage (The Detroit Serpents #1)

1. Paige

Chapter 1

Paige

I stared at my reflection in the sleek bathroom mirror of the Serpents’ headquarters, willing my nerves to settle. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glare that made my skin look pale and drawn. I smoothed my hands over my blazer, the stiff fabric a far cry from the relaxed, familiar wardrobe I’d left behind when I traded my small-town life for this high-stakes role.

Assistant General Manager of the Detroit Serpents.

I repeated the title silently, trying to convince myself I belonged here. The white blazer hugged my shoulders too tightly, its sharp lines clashing with the memory of cozy flannels and worn jeans. My reflection stared back with wide eyes that couldn’t quite hide the flicker of uncertainty beneath their surface.

You earned this. You belong here.

My mind raced. Working here was risky. Not because of the demanding hours or high expectations—though those were challenges on their own—but because he played for the team. The thought sent a ripple of tension through me, but I shoved it down, just like always. If I kept my head down and focused on my job, there was no reason our paths would cross. We were worlds apart in this massive organization, after all.

The bathroom door creaked open, and two staff members strolled in, laughing about some inside joke. Their laughter echoed against the tiled walls. They glanced my way but didn’t say a word, their attention already drifting elsewhere as they continued their conversation.

My stomach tightened into a knot. I took a deep breath, reminding myself this was just another test. You’ve been underestimated before. You can handle it.

I turned away from the mirror and stepped toward the sink, letting the cold water run over my fingers. It was soothing, a brief reprieve from the tension coiling inside me. The two staff members leaned against the counter beside me, still engrossed in their conversation.

“Did you see Weston’s face when he found out about the trade?” one of them said, chuckling.

“Priceless,” the other replied. “He’s never going to live that down.”

I forced myself to focus on their words instead of the nagging voice in my head telling me I was out of place. The water continued to run over my fingers, grounding me in this moment.

One of them glanced at me again, curiosity flickering in her eyes for a brief second before she returned to her conversation.

I turned off the faucet and dried my hands slowly, each motion deliberate. It was time to step out of this bathroom and into that conference room with my head held high.

My thoughts drifted to Minka Mathers, the Serpents’ young owner, who had taken a gamble on me this past summer. After her uncle was forced to step down as owner until Minka graduated, she saw potential in me that no one else had.

" This isn’t a charity hire ," she’d assured me during the interview. " I don’t care what anyone says, you’re ready. Just keep your head up and don’t let them intimidate you. You’re here to do a job. "

If anyone understood the sentiment, it was Minka herself. Her first month of college, she endured her own slew of controversies including breaking off an engagement and scandalous videos released of her and her team's number one draft pick. And she was still here, head held high.

I hadn’t forgotten that conversation, even though the pressure seemed to settle heavier on my shoulders with every passing moment. This wasn’t just about hockey. It was about proving that I could stand on my own two feet.

I took a deep breath and straightened my posture. The mirror reflected the face of someone ready to fight for her place. Maybe not perfectly polished like the other staff members, but determined.

It’s just another room full of people. You’ve been in worse situations.

With one last glance at my reflection, I left the bathroom and headed down the corridor to the Serpents’ conference room. The sound of my heels clicking against the polished floor echoed through the hallway, each step a reminder of the weight on my shoulders. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a harsh glare that matched the unease twisting in my stomach.

The corridor seemed to stretch on forever, lined with framed photographs of past victories and legends of the team. I paused briefly in front of one picture, an action shot of Minka’s grandfather, the founder of the NHL team, celebrating a championship win. His grin was infectious despite his serious reputation. He passed about a year ago, his legacy up in the air, especially after it was made public that Minka would inherit the team upon her graduation at the prestigious Crestwood Academy.

You can do this, I reminded myself, squaring my shoulders as I continued walking.

The door to the conference room loomed ahead, a barrier between me and what felt like a battlefield before the whistle had even blown. Taking a deep breath, I pushed it open and stepped inside.

The room was filled with the buzz of conversation and rustling papers. A long table dominated the space, surrounded by stern-faced executives and coaches. They turned to look at me as I entered, their eyes weighing and measuring me in an instant.

And him.

Fuck.

I didn't think I'd see him this soon, but…

Across from the coach sat Ryker Kane, the team’s captain and my ex-boyfriend's older brother. His glacier-blue eyes tracked my every movement with an intensity that could freeze water. I hoped he didn't recognize me—we met only a handful of times—but no. He knew me. His expression was a mask of stoic indifference, but I knew better. His sharp gaze and perfectly chiseled features made him look as untouchable in person as he did on the ice. His reputation preceded him: elite athlete, no-nonsense leader, and emotionally cold as the rink he dominated.

And he hated me because I left his brother at the altar two years ago.

Maybe it was stupid, getting married the summer before junior year. But Brendan was going to the NHL, and I was afraid to lose him.

And I did.

Because he had been seeing my best friend behind my back.

And that wasn't even including Brendan's temper.

At least an injury kept him from the NHL. I didn’t even feel guilty for the thought.

I did a lot of stupid things after that, but I never cheated on Brendan nor did I ever badmouth him. I wasn't sure what he had told his family, but judging by the knives Ryker threw at me with his glare, I'd say it didn't make me look good.

My pulse raced as I stepped forward, past the older, suited men, and toward the screen displaying statistics and strategies for the upcoming season. The energy in the room buzzed around me like static electricity, making my fingers twitch at my sides.

I scanned the faces in front of me, already aware of where my challenges lay. Ryker Kane’s eyes narrowed slightly as he scrutinized me. His expression remained unreadable, but I could feel the weight of his judgment pressing down on me like a physical force.

He wanted me to fuck this up.

Minka stood at the head of the table, her voice slicing through the tense air. “Everyone, this is Paige Adams, our new Assistant GM. She’s here to help elevate this team to where we know it can be.” Her tone carried a sharp edge, daring anyone to question her decision.

Next to her was Gideon Strong, a man I recognized from my research. He had stepped in to replace Richard Mathers until Minka graduated. Gideon’s presence was as enigmatic and heavy, but not uncomfortable. His dark eyes seemed to hold a thousand secrets behind their calm facade, and his long black hair framed a face that looked both weary and wise beyond his years.

“Welcome,” Gideon said simply, his voice low and steady. There was no warmth in it, but no hostility either—just an acknowledgment of my existence in this charged room.

I nodded in response, my throat too tight for words just yet.

Minka continued without missing a beat. “Paige brings a fresh perspective and an impressive track record in sports management.” She looked around the room, making sure every pair of eyes met hers before continuing. “We need that kind of innovation if we’re going to dominate this season.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, but Ryker’s gaze remained fixed on me. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest like he was waiting for me to prove myself—or fail spectacularly.

Ryker’s eyes flicked to me, then back to Minka. “Didn't she run some college team?”

The dismissiveness in his voice cut through the room like a slap. My heart pounded in my chest, but I kept my face neutral, refusing to let him see how his words stung.

The fact that he pretended not to know who I was…

I could work with that.

In fact, I preferred it.

Minka didn’t miss a beat. “You mean the Wolverines?” She gave him a long, measured look. “U of M has an unbeatable record in college hockey, and while she was at school, she helped elevate it, especially after the frat party scandal. She’s going to be a crucial asset to this team.”

The room went silent. The frat party scandal wasn’t just a bump in the road; it had been a full-blown crisis that nearly derailed the entire program. I remembered the sleepless nights, the endless meetings with university officials and parents, and the way my stomach had twisted every time I saw the headlines. All while I tried to balance finals, term papers, and my own rumors that followed me simply because I was a female in a male-dominated sport.

Ryker’s jaw ticked. “She’s a little young.”

I could see Minka’s patience thinning like ice under a warm sun. “I’m sorry, captain,” she said, her voice icy, “but I don’t remember asking your opinion on my hire.” A beat. "And I'm three years younger than she is. Are you saying I'm too young to run this team?"

Ryker’s eyes hardened, but he said nothing. His jaw clenched so tight I thought it might crack.

I took a deep breath and stepped forward. “I understand your concerns,” I said, addressing Ryker directly. It was the first time we had spoken in years. I was surprised my voice came out as calmly as it did. “But my age doesn’t diminish my experience or my dedication to this team.”

"Dedication?" he asked. "Funny."

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, we were locked in a silent battle of wills. I refused to look away first.

Minka broke the tension by clearing her throat. “We’re here to discuss strategy for the upcoming season,” she said firmly. “Paige is here because she has valuable insights and skills that will benefit us all.”

Gideon nodded in agreement, his expression unreadable but supportive. “Let’s focus on what matters,” he added.

I cleared my throat, feeling the familiar tug of nerves creep up. This was my moment. “I’m excited to be here,” I began, projecting a confidence I wasn’t entirely sure I felt. “My focus will be on ensuring that we have the support, strategy, and cohesion needed to get us to the playoffs and beyond. I know we’re all here to win, and I want to help make that happen.”

Silence met my statement, but I didn’t falter. I met the gaze of each executive, each coach, and finally, Ryker’s. I needed him to understand that I wasn’t here to be anyone’s pawn, least of all his. And he wasn't going to intimidate me.

The tension in the room thickened, and just as I was about to continue, Ryker leaned back in his chair. The slow creak of the leather filled the room, and his eyes held mine with a cold, calculating look.

“Another pep talk,” he said, his voice low and biting. “That’s exactly what we need.” The sarcasm in his tone was unmistakable, and my stomach twisted at the public dismissal.

I paused, steadying my breath. The sting of his words rippled through me, but I wouldn’t let it show. I wouldn’t let him see how much it rattled me.

“I’m not here to give pep talks, Mr. Kane,” I said, keeping my voice steady and direct. “I’m here to make sure this team is set up for success, both on and off the ice.”

Ryker’s eyes flashed with something—amusement, perhaps. Or maybe it was annoyance. “Right,” he muttered. “We’ve heard that before.”

Minka stepped in before the tension could escalate further. "Let's give Paige a chance," she said firmly. "She’s already proven herself in tough situations."

John Barrett nodded slightly, his expression contemplative. "We could use some fresh perspective," he admitted.

The rest of the room seemed to relax a fraction at John's words. But Ryker's gaze was still hard.

I took another deep breath and pressed on. “We have an incredible roster this year,” I said, shifting my focus to the stats displayed on the screen behind me. “We picked up The Russian Reaper. And we still have cap space to pick up a few pieces to really round out the team. But talent alone won’t get us where we need to go. We need a cohesive strategy that leverages each player’s strengths.”

Heads nodded around the table as I spoke, some more reluctantly than others.

Gideon finally spoke up from his seat at the head of the table. “Paige has some innovative ideas for training regimens and team dynamics,” he said calmly. “We’ve brought her on board because we believe these changes can make a real difference.”

I nodded gratefully at Gideon before continuing. “One area I want us to focus on is communication—both on and off the ice,” I explained. “Clear communication can mean the difference between winning and losing in critical moments.”

A murmur of agreement swept through the room.

Ryker’s gaze never left mine as he leaned forward slightly in his chair again. "And what about when things don’t go according to plan? What's your strategy then? Run away after making a commitment?"

His challenge hung in the air like a gauntlet thrown down.

“I expect things won’t always go according to plan,” I replied evenly. “But that's where adaptability comes in. We’ll be prepared for contingencies.”

Ryker’s eyes narrowed slightly as if weighing my response. "Of course," he muttered. "You always see an exit."

Minka gave me an encouraging nod from her place at the head of the table.

Taking one last deep breath, I added with unwavering resolve: “I believe in this team—and I’m committed to doing whatever it takes for us all succeed.”

I took my seat at the table, feeling the weight of every gaze on me. The pressure was immense, but it also fueled me. This was my chance to prove myself—to show them all that I belonged here.

I squared my shoulders, holding my ground. I couldn’t let Ryker intimidate me, even though the dismissiveness in his voice cut deeper than I cared to admit. I had faced tougher things than a hockey captain’s ego.

But something about his blatant disregard felt personal, as though he’d written me off before I even had a chance to prove myself.

And considering our history…

No.

I didn’t want to go there.

He probably didn’t even remember me or that night.

Minka cleared her throat. “Paige has my full support,” she said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. “And the organization’s as well. She’s here for a reason, and I expect everyone to treat her with the same respect they’d give any member of the team.”

Ryker’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze flicked back to me, a silent challenge in his eyes. I didn’t blink, forcing myself to hold that icy stare even as my pulse raced. If he wanted to play this game, I could play it too.

The silence stretched thin between us until John Barrett broke it with a gruff cough. “Let’s get down to business,” he said, shuffling through his notes. “We’ve got a lot to cover.”

Reluctantly, Ryker turned his attention back to the agenda in front of him.

As John outlined the training schedule for the upcoming weeks, I took detailed notes, my mind already spinning with ideas on how to improve team dynamics and communication. The murmurs of agreement and occasional nods from around the table bolstered my confidence.

Gideon leaned forward slightly, catching my eye. “Paige,” he said smoothly, “do you have any thoughts on how we can enhance our current strategy?”

I nodded, grateful for the opportunity to speak. “Absolutely,” I began, glancing around the table. “I believe we can start by incorporating more data analytics into our game preparation. By leveraging advanced metrics, we can identify areas where individual players can improve and tailor our training sessions accordingly. I also think it might behoove us to acquire a sports psychologist and do an evaluation of every player just to see where their head is and how we can incorporate assistance if need be. We don’t always understand what’s going on in player personal lives and it’s important we take that into consideration moving forward.”

A few heads nodded in agreement, and I continued with more conviction. “Additionally,” I said, “I propose we introduce regular team-building exercises off the ice. Building trust and camaraderie among players will translate into better communication during games.”

Ryker furrowed his brow slightly as if weighing my words.

“Those are solid ideas,” Minka said, looking around the room for any dissenters.

“Agreed,” John said after a moment of contemplation. “We need every edge we can get.”

Gideon gave me an approving nod before turning back to the agenda.

The tension in the room began to ease slightly as we delved deeper into discussions about upcoming matches and player evaluations. Each time I spoke up with suggestions or insights, I could feel myself gaining a bit more ground.

But Ryker remained silent for most of it, his eyes occasionally flicking over to me with that same cold scrutiny.

When the meeting finally adjourned, people began gathering their things and filtering out of the room. I lingered in the corridor outside the conference room, trying to shake off the lingering effect of Ryker’s dismissiveness. My first day on the job, and already I’d butted heads with the team captain. This wasn’t how I’d envisioned things going. Not even close.

The polished marble floors seemed to amplify every footstep, every hushed conversation drifting out from the conference room. I leaned against the cool wall, taking a moment to gather myself. The pressure in my chest eased slightly, but the weight of Ryker’s icy stare still pressed down on me.

I glanced up as Gideon Strong stepped out of the room. He caught my eye and offered a nod. “You handled yourself well in there,” he said, his voice low and measured.

“Thanks,” I replied, forcing a smile. “It wasn’t exactly how I wanted things to go.”

Gideon’s gaze softened, just a fraction. “Ryker’s tough on everyone,” he said. “Don’t take it personally.”

Easier said than done. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Gideon gave a small nod and walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more. The corridor felt like it was closing in on me; the walls pressing tighter with every breath.

I needed air.

Pushing away from the wall, I headed toward the exit. The humid Detroit air hit me like a splash of cold water as I stepped outside, taking deep breaths to steady myself. The city’s hustle and bustle surrounded me—cars honking, people chatting on their phones—but it felt distant, almost muted.

I walked along the sidewalk, letting my mind drift over the meeting’s events. Ryker had made it clear he didn’t think much of me or my qualifications, and it was obvious he was still upset with what happened between me and his brother. But I couldn’t let his opinion define me or dictate my actions.

As I turned a corner, lost in thought, a familiar voice cut through my reverie.

“Paige!”

I looked up to see Minka striding toward me, her expression unreadable but determined.

“I wanted to catch you before you left,” she said, falling into step beside me.

“What’s up?” I asked, trying to sound casual despite the knot of tension still coiled in my stomach.

Minka glanced around before speaking again. “I know today was rough,” she said quietly. “But you handled yourself well.”

“Thanks,” I murmured, not quite believing it myself.

Minka stopped walking and turned to face me directly. “You’re here for a reason,” she said firmly. “Don’t let anyone—especially Ryker—make you doubt that.”

Her words struck a chord deep within me. “I won’t,” I promised.

She gave a satisfied nod and then continued walking down the street. As she disappeared into the crowd, I stood there for a moment longer, letting her words sink in.

Maybe this wasn’t how I’d imagined my first day would go, but it was only one day out of many to come. And I was determined to make each one count.