At Briar, Dean Di Laurentis has a reputation for two things: hockey and bad decisions. Mostly bad decisions. He’s loud, cocky, constantly surrounded by girls, and allergic to anything that resembles commitment. The kind of guy who can charm his way out of almost anything with a grin and a stupid joke. Which is why nobody thinks twice when Dean openly complains about Briar Hockey’s newest announcement. After Birdie gets knocked out of the season with a brutal injury, Briar’s roster takes a serious hit. Practices get rougher. Tempers get worse. And suddenly Coach is desperate enough to agree to something the program has never done before: Bring in a female transfer player to temporarily join the men’s team. Coach explains it like it’s purely strategic. She’s an elite defenseman from another university. High-level experience. Strong enough to keep up with the pace Briar needs while Birdie recovers. Dean stops listening halfway through the explanation. All he hears is: shared practices, media attention, and another reason for Coach to scream at them. Dean doesn’t care much beyond the inconvenience of losing practice slots. Until Coach announces the transfer will be joining practice that morning. And then she walks onto the ice. The entire rink goes silent. Because even before Dean recognizes her, everyone else notices the same thing immediately: She’s terrifying. Not loud. Not attention-seeking. Worse. Controlled. The kind of girl who doesn’t need to demand respect because she walks around like she already owns it. Tall, sharp-eyed, and completely unreadable beneath the visor of her helmet, she carries herself with the kind of confidence people only get after years of proving they’re the best player in every room they enter. And on the ice? She’s ruthless. Not dirty—never sloppy enough for that. Just brutal in a way that makes people nervous. Her body checks are calculated. Her hits land hard enough to rattle people long after practice ends. She play