Chapter Text
Shane sat in his cubby in the Raiders’ guest locker room, leaning forward as he tightened the laces on his shoes. Around him, the Metros players buzzed with their usual post-game chaos.
Some players were still stripping off gear, tossing sweat-soaked pads into open stalls. A few guys were heading toward the showers, while others were already back, towels slung low around their waists, hair dripping onto the floor. The air smelled like sweat, soap, and the sharp sting of athletic tape.
Shane had showered and dressed almost immediately after walking in. No lingering, no small talk. He’d moved through the routine automatically, faster than usual.
He had a reason.
He was supposed to see Ilya again after the game.
The thought alone had him rushing through everything, shower, clothes, post-game routine. If he could get through media quickly, he could slip out sooner.
Now, as he sat tying the last knot in his laces, Shane mentally rehearsed what he would say to the reporters. After years in the league, he had a pretty good idea what was coming. Questions about the loss. Questions about the Raiders' game-winning performance. Questions about Ilya.
The Raiders had managed to hold off the Metros tonight, though if Shane was being honest with himself, it hadn’t been the Raiders so much as Ilya. Ilya Rozanov had been unstoppable. A hat trick. Shane himself had two points, but it hadn’t been enough. The loss still sat bitter in his chest. Shane hated losing, always had. And losing to Ilya somehow made it worse.
Still… He couldn’t deny how incredible Ilya had looked on the ice tonight.
Shane found himself replaying the goals in his mind: the speed, the precision, the way Ilya had slipped past defenders like they weren’t even there. He was halfway through reliving the second goal when a voice cut through the locker room chatter.
“Did you guys hear about Rozanov?” One of the rookies was standing a few lockers down, talking to a small cluster of players.
Shane’s head snapped up immediately.
“What about Rozanov?” he asked.
His mind instantly spun through possibilities. Did Ilya get hurt during the game? No. Shane would’ve noticed that. Maybe he said something insane to the press. That felt more likely, Ilya had never been great at filtering himself. Or maybe he’d gotten into a fight with one of his teammates. No… that didn’t sound right either. Ilya loved his team.
“A buddy of mine on the Raiders—” the rookie began.
“You’ve got a buddy on the Raiders?” J.J. interrupted, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah. He’s a rookie too. Same draft class as me. So… yeah, we talk.” The rookie shrugged defensively.
Shane resisted the sudden urge to grab the kid by the shoulders. Finish the story. Tell me what’s going on with Ilya. Instead, he forced himself to stay calm.
“You were saying about Rozanov?” Shane prompted, keeping his voice even.
“Oh—right.” The rookie rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, Cap. I was saying…”
Shane’s stomach tightened.
“One of the Raiders’ rookies texted me. Apparently Rozanov’s having some kind of… mental breakdown in their locker room.”
For a second, the words didn’t fully register.
Then they hit.
Oh no.
“What do you mean ‘mental breakdown’?” someone asked.
The rookie frowned slightly, glancing down at his phone like he was rereading the message.
“Apparently he answered a phone call right when they got into the locker room,” he said. “Whatever the person said to him must’ve really messed him up. He said Rozanov just… sat down on the floor. And he hasn’t moved since. He won’t talk to anyone. He’s just staring straight ahead. Like he’s not even there.”
A few guys exchanged confused looks.
“He completely shut down.” the rookie added.
A few lockers down, J.J. snorted. "That asshole had it coming."
“Always knew he was bound to break at some point.” Someone added.
Another voice chimed in from near the showers. “Couldn’t he have gotten the call before the game? Would’ve spared us a few bruises.”
A couple of guys laughed under their breath.
Shane felt something cold settle in his chest. Earlier that day flashed through his mind. Ilya lying beside him in bed. His phone buzzing over and over on the nightstand. It was is brother calling. Ilya had ignored the call every time. Shane knew the story. Ilya had told him enough. Alexei treated him like a walking bank account, calling whenever he needed money, guilt-tripping him about family. But Ilya had always handled it. He never let Alexei get to him like that, so there was no way Alexei could have said something to him so vile that it would cause this type of reaction. Unless-
Shane’s thoughts halted abruptly. Another memory surfaced.
Ilya’s father.
Ilya’s father had been sick, and Alexei was taking care of him back in Russia. Which meant—
The realization hit Shane like a punch to the ribs.
Shane shot to his feet. Several heads turned at the sudden movement. He barely noticed. He was already moving, pushing past teammates as he headed for the door.
He had to get to the Raiders’ locker room. He had to get to Ilya. Shane knew the risks. Everyone thought they hated each other. If anyone saw him rushing into the Raiders’ locker room, questions would start immediately. People might start wondering if there was more between them than the rivalry they showed on the ice, if maybe they didn’t actually hate each other at all. And that wasn’t even mentioning the obvious problem: crossing into another team’s locker room was a massive violation, especially after a game like this.
But right now, none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was Ilya.
“Shane, where are you going?” Hayden called after him.
Shane barely slowed.
“I need to—” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the words. “I just need to make sure he’s okay.”
“Why the fuck do you care what happens to Rozanov?” Comeau said sharply, suspicion heavy in his voice.
But Shane didn’t answer.
He was already out the door, running for the Raiders’ locker room.