34 - Haven
HAVEN
We needed that win.
Not just in the standings. Not just on paper.
We needed it in the room.
The final buzzer sounded and the bench erupted, cheering like we’d made the finals. Gloves slammed against boards. Sticks tapped hard against the ice. It wasn’t pretty. Wasn’t perfect.
But it was ours.
And Ares was back.
I felt it the second he stepped onto the ice. Not just the hits — though there were plenty of those. It was the way the opposing players suddenly thought twice before cutting through the middle. His very presence demanded respect. It changed the shape of the game, just by being out there.
“About time,” Zack muttered, bumping into him as they came off the ice.
Ares didn’t respond, didn’t celebrate. He lowered his shoulder just a little though; a move that almost sent Zack flying.
The locker room was loud. Louder than usual. Music blasting, voices overlapping, adrenaline still bleeding off in waves. Even Mercer didn’t shut it down. And that meant everything.
“Enjoy it,” he said once, pacing in front of the stalls. “Then we get back to work.”
That was his version of a victory speech.
I stayed near the edge of it, tablet in hand, pretending to review numbers I already knew.
We were cleaner. Faster. More connected.
And now—
Complete.
“You coming?” Grayson’s voice cut through my thoughts.
I looked up.
He stood near the doorway, already half-dressed. A set of keys spun lazily around his finger.
“Coming where?”
“Back,” he said. “Now. Coach gave us the truck.”
I frowned in confusion. “The bus—”
“Delayed,” he cut in. “Weather’s turning.”
Right. The storm.
I glanced toward the far wall. A small TV hung crooked in the corner, muted, still flashing a radar map. A massive band of white stretched across the screen.
Snow.
A lot of it.
“It’s supposed to hit later,” I said.
Grayson gave me a look.
“You want to bet on that?”
For a split second, my mind toyed with interesting ideas for what I’d bet. I shoved them away.
Behind him, Mercer appeared, already pulling on his coat.
“You four,” he said, pointing between us without breaking stride. “Go.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Now,” he repeated. “I want adjustments tonight, not tomorrow. Next game is big. Reviewing the footage is crucial.”
His eyes darted between us.
Me.
Grayson.
Ares.
Sebastian.
Holy shit.
“Bus will follow,” he added. “If it can.”
That last part didn’t feel like a joke. It also settled it. No one argued.
The parking lot was already dusted white by the time we stepped outside.
“Shit,” Sebastian muttered, glancing up at the sky.
The snow wasn’t falling hard yet. But it was steady. The flakes came down fast. I’d been up here long enough to know what that meant.
“You drive,” Grayson said, tossing Ares the keys.
Ares caught them without looking.
We stopped in front of Mercer’s truck… and by ‘truck’, I mean relic.
Square body. Bench seat. Manual everything. It looked like he’d bought it used, in high school. The kind of vehicle that had survived at least two recessions, and a minor war.
“Is this thing legal?” I asked.
“It builds character,” Grayson said, already opening the passenger door.
Metal hinges screamed. Sebastian covered his ears.
“That thing has carburetors,” he muttered.
“Plural?” I shot back.
Ares opened the driver’s door like none of it mattered.
“Does it even have airbags?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Zack laughed from behind me. “They’re called your face.”
We piled inside — gear shoved in back, shoulders brushing the tight space. I ended up in the middle of the bench seat. Between Ares and Grayson.
The engine turned over with a low, stubborn growl, headlights cutting through the growing haze of white.
“Still think we’ll beat it?” Sebastian asked.
No one answered right away. I looked out the windshield and watched the snow thicken. It came down even faster, now. Heavier.
“No,” I said quietly.
The heater kicked on with a sound like a dying animal. Then, miraculously, warm air followed.
Ares shifted the car into gear.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said.
And then we pulled out into it. The storm swallowed us almost immediately.
And somewhere behind us—
The rest of the team wasn’t moving.