Chapter 1 #2
"The best in her age bracket. Her shooting percentage last season was—"
"I know her stats." Lou had watched Camille play.
Had studied her, the way you studied anyone who might one day be your opponent or teammate.
On the ice, Camille Laurent-Dubois was electric, fast, precise, capable of plays that seemed to bend physics.
She moved like water finding the path of least resistance, like she could see openings before they existed.
Off the ice, she was... a lot. Social media presence, sponsorship deals, a public persona so polished it practically gleamed under studio lights.
Everything Lou wasn't. Everything Lou didn't trust.
"You have concerns." Astoria set the tablet down, Camille's frozen smile still bright on the screen. "Share them."
Lou chose her words carefully. "High-profile players like her bring attention.
Cameras. Distractions. We're a team that's used to grinding in obscurity, used to fighting for scraps and making do with what we've got.
Throwing a celebrity into that mix, someone who's used to spotlight and sponsors and people caring about her personal life. .."
"Will force you to adapt." Astoria's tone made clear this wasn't a negotiation.
"This team has survived on grit and loyalty for a decade, Ms. Calder.
Those qualities are valuable. But they're not enough to reach the next level.
The PWHL. You need talent. You need resources.
And you need someone who knows how to win when the spotlight is on and the pressure is crushing. "
"She just ended a very public relationship. The press will be—"
"Relentless. Yes. They'll focus on her, not you.
Consider it a shield." Astoria gathered her tablet and tucked it back into her bag with precise movements.
"Camille Laurent-Dubois didn't become the best by accident.
Whatever you think you know about her from tabloid headlines and gossip columns, I suggest you reserve judgment until you've seen her play for your team. "
Your team. The words landed differently now.
Lou had led this team through lean years and losing seasons, had held it together when better options beckoned and smarter players left for greener ice.
But this was something else entirely: Astoria Shepry’s resources, Mara Ellison’s demands, Camille's star power.
Something that might lift them up or tear them apart, with no way to know which until it was already happening.
"You're asking me to trust you," Lou said. "I don't know you. I don't know if any of this is real or just another owner looking to make a splash before they lose interest."
"I'm not asking." Astoria moved toward the door, her heels silent on the thin carpet.
"I'm telling you that I've bought your team, hired your coach, and signed your new star forward.
What I'm offering is the chance to be part of what comes next, instead of an obstacle to it.
" She paused at the threshold, half-turned back toward Lou.
"You're foundational, Ms. Calder. Whether you believe that or not is irrelevant to me.
I need your leadership. The Valkyries need your leadership.
Don't waste my investment, or your opportunity, on skepticism. "
She left. The door clicked shut behind her with a soft, expensive sound, leaving Lou alone in a room that suddenly felt much larger than it had five minutes ago.
Through the window, she could see the ice below.
Her team, her players, still running drills without her, their movements small and distant from this height.
Frankie caught someone's pass and sent it sailing with the easy confidence of a player who'd stopped caring about stats years ago.
Elise Moreno held her position at the blue line with the calm steadiness that made her invaluable on defense and in the locker room.
The PWHL. Professional contracts. Real salaries and real resources and real equipment that didn't fall apart mid-season.
Mara Ellison's legendary brutality, her reputation for breaking players down and building them back harder.
Camille Laurent-Dubois's spotlight-bright presence, her tabloid fame and her perfect face and her messy public life that would follow her everywhere she went.
Lou pressed her scarred knuckles against the cold glass and let herself feel the chill seep into her skin, the bite of it grounding her in her body.
Nine years she'd given this team. Nine years of fighting for every scrap of funding, every roster spot, every minute of ice time that other leagues took for granted.
Now someone was handing her everything she'd wanted, wrapped in complications she hadn't asked for and couldn't predict.
Through the glass, the puck moved from stick to stick, player to player, the eternal geometry of the game she'd built her life around.
Lou watched it arc and snap and slide across the ice, and underneath her exhaustion and skepticism, underneath the wariness that experience had carved into her bones like old injuries that ached in the cold, something else stirred.
Hope was a dangerous thing. She'd learned that early and often, learned to crush it before it could take root and make the inevitable disappointment worse.
But standing in that quiet room, looking down at the ice that had been her whole world for almost a decade, Lou let it stay.
Not yet.