The scoreboard blinked…. 8 – 8.
The rink was chaos. Both teams had been clawing for dominance, trading goals like it was a war they refused to lose.
Every slam against the boards, every whistle, every groan from the crowd had led here to the last three minutes.
My throat was sore from screaming, though I barely realized it until I stopped breathing.
Everyone was alive.
Even Marcus showed up to watch, after swearing he wouldn't.
This wasn't just a game anymore. It was life or death.
The announcer's voice boomed across the arena.
"Three minutes left on the clock, folks! What a game, what a rivalry. If the score stands, the Wolves will walk away with the win here tonight."
A gasp tore through the Falcon side of the crowd.
I hated how scared I was.
Because this wasn't just about winning.
If the Falcons didn't score, if it ended as a draw, the Wolves automatically took the victory home-ice rules.
And everyone here would see Dominic fall short.
