Chapter 241

JULIAN’S POV

The locker room was a symphony of snapping tape, heavy breathing, and the sharp, chemical stench of sweat.

Around me, the guys were shouting, trying to pump themselves up for the game, but I couldn't hear a single word they were saying. Everything was drowned out by the absolute, deafening silence in my own head.

For the first time in months, I was completely, utterly sober. The hangover from a few days ago had felt like a bullet to the brain, but today, my vision was crystal clear.

My hands didn't shake as I laced up my skates. My chest didn't burn with the cheap heat of whiskey. I sat on the wooden bench, staring down at the logo on my jersey, feeling the cold, hard weight of reality finally settling into my bones.

I had to play properly today. No meltdowns. No slamming my stick against the glass. No screaming at reporters or charging into the VIP back offices to hunt down Brandon.

I knew exactly where I stood. Brandon was the primary sponsor of this team, which meant he owned the ice I skated on, the locker room I sat in, and very likely the air I breathed.

One more unhinged stunt and my career wouldn't just be on the line—it would be completely dead and buried. And if I lost hockey, I lost the last shred of leverage I had to get my life back. To get my daughter back.

My phone vibrated against the wooden bench right beside my thigh. I picked it up quickly, my eyes narrowing as an unknown number flashed across the screen. I slid the text open.

“I have an update on the target. Found something on his personal holdings and past legal filings. We need to speak face-to-face. Focus on the ice. I’ll talk to you after the game.”

It was the private investigator I had hired.

A sudden, sharp wave of dark satisfaction hit me, and a genuine smile broke through the tension on my face. I was happy. For days, I had been paying this guy a fortune to dig up Brandon's deep, buried secrets.

needed dirt. I needed something dark enough, lethal enough, to use against Brandon, something that would shatter his perfect image and force Aria to pack her bags and stay far away from him. And it looked like the investigator had finally delivered.

"Julian? Hey, man, are you good?" I snapped my phone shut, shoving it into my pocket as I looked up. Sebastian was standing over me, his helmet tucked under his arm, his brow furrowed with genuine concern.

"Yeah. I'm good, Seb," I said, my voice steady, flat, and completely clear. Sebastian sighed, shifting his weight as he looked around the room before lowering his voice.

“Good. Because the teammates... Everyone is really worried about you, man. You're our captain. We need you out there today, and the guys just don't want to see you spiral again after what happened last week."

I looked at Sebastian, then looked across the room at the rest of the team. They were watching me out of the corners of their eyes, the heavy anxiety thick in the air.

I had let them down, let my rage take over. But not today. "I'm not spiraling," I told him firmly, standing up from the bench as the steel blades of my skates dug into the rubber flooring. I clapped a hand against Sebastian's shoulder pads. "Tell the guys the captain is back. Let's go win a game."

"Vance! Let's go! Ice time!" the coach roared from the doorway, clapping his hands. I grabbed my stick, adjusted my helmet, and skated out into the roaring tunnel, my mind sharper and more dangerous than it had been in years.

I just had to survive sixty minutes on the ice. Then, I was getting the ammunition I needed to destroy Brandon.

The final buzzer blared through the arena, drowning out the roaring crowd as the red light flashed behind the opponent's net.

We had done it. I had pushed my body to its absolute limits for all three periods, skating harder and hitting cleaner than I had in months. In the end, we walked off the ice with a hard-fought victory.

The moment I stepped down the tunnel, the media swarmed. Microphones and cameras were shoved into my face, the flashbulbs blinding.

"Julian. Over here. Incredible game tonight. What was the source of this sudden, massive energy after last week's incident?" a reporter shouted over the din.

I looked directly into the camera lens, my expression completely sober and lethal. "I'm back to stay," I told them, my voice carrying a quiet confidence that had been missing for a long time. "And I am going to make sure my team stays leading. No more distractions."

As I pulled away from the media pack, Coach caught up with me, hard palms clapping down against my shoulder pads. "Good work out there, Captain. That’s the Vance we need."

"Thanks, Coach," I muttered, but my eyes had already drifted past him.

Standing a few yards away near the executive entrance was Henderson, the team's general manager, and standing right beside him was the man himself. Brandon.

He was dressed in a pristine tailored suit, his arms crossed over his chest, standing completely quietly as he watched me. His dark eyes were cold, unreadable, and entirely devoid of any congratulatory warmth.

"Mr. Vance, spectacular performance," Henderson chimed in, stepping forward with a broad smile. "I think we have a gift for you in the front office to celebrate the turnaround."

Brandon didn't even look at Henderson. He simply lowered his arms, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt with a slow, deliberate movement. "I have things to handle," Brandon said, his deep voice cutting through the corridor's noise.

He shifted his gaze to the coach, giving a curt, professional nod. "Your team was amazing tonight." Without another word, Brandon turned on his heel and walked off down the hallway toward the private exit.

A dark, mocking smirk pulled at the corner of my lips. I watched his retreating back, the sheer arrogance in his stride, and decided I wasn't going to let him walk away that easily.

Leaving Sebastian and the coach behind, I followed him down the quieter corridor, the steel of my skates clicking sharply against the floorboards.

"Brandon," I called out, my voice echoing off the concrete walls.

He didn't stop, but I knew he heard me. I picked up my pace until I was a few feet behind him. "What's the matter? Having trouble with Aria?"

Brandon stopped dead in his tracks. He didn't turn around immediately, his broad shoulders tensing under his dark suit jacket. The silence between us stretched out, thick and volatile. He didn't give me the satisfaction of an answer.

I took half a step closer, my smirk widening. "You know, even if you aren't... I am going to make sure you do."

Without waiting for his lethal rage to break through his frozen exterior, and without giving him a chance to reply, I turned on my heel and walked off, leaving him standing alone in the shadows of the corridor.

The adrenaline was pouring through my veins now. As I headed back toward the locker room to change, I pulled my phone from my gear bag and immediately dialed the private investigator. He picked up on the second ring.

"Where are we meeting?" I demanded, not bothering with pleasantries. The man gave me a quiet, low-profile location—a dimly lit diner about twenty minutes away from the arena.

"I'll be there," I said, snapping the phone shut.

Back in the locker room, I quickly stripped out of my heavy, sweat-soaked gear and took a fast, scalding shower to wash the ice off my skin.

I threw on a clean shirt and a dark jacket, throwing my bag over my shoulder. As I reached for the door handle, Sebastian intercepted me.

"Hey, Julian! Don't forget about the celebratory dinner with the team tonight at eight," Seb reminded me, pointing a finger at me. "We need the captain there."

"I'll be there, Seb. Count on it," I assured him, giving him a quick nod before slipping out into the night. Twenty minutes later, I pulled my car into the gravel lot of the secluded diner.

The neon sign buzzed weakly against the dark sky. I walked inside, finding the investigator sitting in a booth at the very back, a thick brown manila envelope resting on the table in front of him.

He didn't say a word. He just pushed the envelope toward me as I sat down. I reached out, my fingers wrapping around the heavy paper, and slid the clasp open.

I pulled the documents out, my eyes scanning the private holdings, the old legal filings, and the deep, dark secrets Brandon thought he had buried forever.

As the full weight of the information settled in my mind, a sickening, triumphant smile graced my lips. I finally had him.