THE NEW SHADOW
THE NEW SHADOW
2. THE FROZEN CROWN GALA
This chapter will be released on May 31, 2026.
Sunlight slowly began spilling through the window. Warm. Lazy. Unhurried. Kip felt it first. He blinked a couple of times, still half asleep, and turned his face away from the brightness. Stayed there for a few seconds without moving, letting his body wake up little by little. A deep breath. He tried to get up. He couldn’t.
—No…
The word came out low, still thick with sleep. A hand gently caught his arm, just enough to stop him.
—Stay.
A small smile slipped onto Kip’s face.
—We have a lot to do today…
No immediate answer.
Just movement closer to him, a forehead resting against his chest.
—I know… —he murmured. “But a little longer. Please.”
Silence settled over them again. Not uncomfortable. The opposite. Kip hesitated for a second… then let himself sink back into the pillow. The hand moved up into his hair, messing it up lazily, still barely awake. Time passed without either of them speaking. Until suddenly, a soft breath brushed against his neck. Kip tensed.
—No…
Again.
—Hey…
And this time the laugh escaped him on its own.
—Okay, stop.
A small pause.
—I’m not doing anything.
—Yes, you are.
He shifted slightly away.
—You know that’s not fair. That’s my weak spot.
One more second…
Then:
—Alright. Fine.
Kip shook his head, still smiling. He leaned down just enough to press a quick kiss to his forehead.
—Now get up for real.
He stood. This time Scott couldn’t stop him.
The kitchen was quiet. Kip moved slowly through it, opening the fridge, pulling things out, making the smoothie without rushing. The blender filled the apartment for a few seconds. By the time he finished, he wasn’t alone anymore. Leaning against the doorway, hair still messy, Scott watched him.
—Are you like this every morning?
Kip looked at him softly.
—Like what?
—Productive.
—Yeah.
Scott walked over slowly and leaned against the kitchen counter beside him.
Silence settled between them again.
—I was watching something last night,” Kip said casually, almost like he was talking to himself.
—What?
—A game. Preseason.
He took a sip of the smoothie.
—People are already overreacting.
—Since when do they not?
Kip let out a small laugh.
—Fair point.
—But it’s funny… couple bad plays and suddenly they wanna replace half the team.
—Like they know more than the coaches.
—From their couches… everybody knows more.
A brief silence.
—I saw comments about you too.
That made Scott glance up.
—Oh yeah?
—Yeah.
Nothing accusatory. Just observation.
—They’re still talking about the speech.
The glass stayed suspended in the air for a second before lowering again.
—That was months ago. They’ll probably keep bringing it up all year.
—Not all of it is negative.
Scott gave a faint shrug.
—It never is… Just remember there are still a lot of people behind me who can’t say anything yet. Because they’re scared. Same way I was before I finally got the courage.
Kip watched him quietly for a few seconds, without pushing.
Then, lighter:
—You’ve got more fans now too.
A half smile.
—What an honor.
—Apparently you’re more interesting now… which makes me a little jealous. But then I remember you’re only for me.
A short laugh escaped him.
—Perfect. I’d never trade you for anyone, Kip. You’re the most important thing in my life.
The moment softened again.
—Are you going today?
The question lingered in the air before Scott answered.
—I don’t want to.
Direct. Simple.
—Why?
He set the glass down on the counter.
—Because it’s always the same thing… people pretending they all like each other. There’s a lot of rivalry in this industry.
—Even when nobody says it.
—Part of the game.
—Yeah… but it still feels fake.
—It’s also where everybody’s watching.
Pretending. Talking about boring shit. No answer that time. Didn’t need one.
—And especially after my speech…” he murmured. “Everyone’s gonna be paying attention. Asking stupid questions.
—Let them look. Let them ask,” Kip said.
The answer was simple. No fear behind it.
—It’s not just that.
Scott stepped a little closer.
—Then what is it?
Their eyes held for a few seconds.
—Nothing I can’t handle.
Kip didn’t push, just stayed there. Close.
—Besides…” Scott added after a moment, “it’s not that terrible.
—Oh yeah?
—No… not if you’re with me.
That was enough. A small smile.
—Then let’s go.
—Just like that?
—Just that simple.
A second of silence.
—We’re together. That should be enough.
The words stayed there for a moment, settling between them.
—But first, do me a favor.
—What?
Scott stepped closer again, hands resting on Kip’s waist.
—Don't wake me up.
—What?
A soft smile.
—If this is a dream… I don’t wanna wake up. I love you so much.
Kip laughed quietly.
—Then behave yourself.
—Is that a threat?
He was already laughing too.
—Just a warning.
Another laugh. Looser this time.
—You know I’m not gonna ruin it.
They stayed there another second. No rush. Then the kiss was natural. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Just a few hours later…
The Frozen Crown Gala wasn’t an open event. Not everyone got into a place like that. Every invitation carried weight: performance, contracts, sponsorships, impact. A polished way of deciding who was already on top… and who still wasn’t.
Outside, the carpet was already alive. Lights. Cameras. Voices overlapping from every direction.
7:25 p.m. A car pulled up at the entrance. The door opened. Shane stepped out. The suit fit him perfectly. Black. Tailored. Sharp in every line. Nothing flashy at first glance, but impossible to ignore once the light hit it. He adjusted his jacket and looked up. The cameras reacted instantly.
—Shane! Over here!
—One picture!
—Look this way!
He smiled.
Confident.
Automatic.
A few minutes later, from another entrance, another car stopped.
Ilya. He stepped out without rushing. Black suit. Classic. No intention of standing out. For him, it was simply necessary. Nothing more.
—Ilya! Quick question!
He stopped just enough.
—Why Ottawa?
—Because I wanted.
—Was it hard leaving Boston?
—No.
—Were you promised something bigger over there?
A slight pause.
—No.
—Do you see yourself becoming captain there?
—I see myself playing.
And he kept walking.
Further ahead, Shane was already standing in front of another cluster of reporters.
—How are you feeling about the season?
—Ready.
—Expectations?
—Winning.
Quick. Clean.
Until—
—Now that Ilya’s in Ottawa… does that change anything?
—No.
—The rivalry’s still the same?
—Yes.
A pause.
—Or is it… different now?
Something in Shane’s expression tightened slightly.
—Different how?
The reporter kept smiling.
—You two have maintained a pretty interesting dynamic. People are wondering if that changes now.
And that was the moment everything shifted inside him.
Fuck…
The thought came instantly.
Do they already know?
For a second, the lights felt brighter.
The cameras closer.
Like everyone was looking for something beyond hockey.
He forced himself to keep his expression steady.
—Nothing changes.
The answer came out firm. But not as effortless as before.
Further back, another arrival. Scott and Kip. Together. Not hiding. Not making a show of it either.
—Scott! Over here!
They stopped.
—After this past year… do you feel like something changed inside your team?
—Yeah.
—In what way?
—The game doesn’t change.
A brief pause.
—The way people look at me does.
—Do you feel different on the ice now?
—No.
—Not even with all the attention on you?
—I don’t play for that.
Short. Clear.
Then the attention shifted to Kip.
—And you? Do you think it was coincidence… or fate… finding someone like Hunter?
Kip thought about it for a second.
Glanced sideways, just briefly.
Then looked back.
—I don’t really know.
He shrugged lightly.
—But I think it matters how it happened. It just… happened.
A small smile.
—And that’s the only thing that matters.
The doors opened. And the noise stayed behind. Inside, everything felt carefully controlled. Warm lighting. Perfect crystal glasses. Tables arranged with exact precision. Soft music, just enough to fill the room without interrupting anything. Conversations everywhere. Contained laughter. Looks that lasted a little longer than necessary. The players were starting to blend together.
Charlie Jones from the Seattle Wolves greeted a group of sponsors with effortless confidence. John Smith from the Miami Storm discussed plays with another player while holding a drink. Ethan Cole from Ottawa laughed loudly beside two teammates. The room filled quickly. Shane stood with one group. Ilya somewhere else entirely. Keeping a normal distance between them. Almost invisible to most people.
Shane pulled out his phone. Quick movement. Discreet. He typed something and sent it. Put the phone away. Didn’t look around. But his posture shifted slightly. Across the room, Ilya felt the vibration. Lowered his eyes. Read the message. Didn’t smile. Didn’t react. Just slipped the phone away and looked up again.
Scott saw it. Saw all of it. First the gesture. Then the response. Then the look. It wasn’t obvious. But it wasn’t random either. He kept watching. A little longer than normal. Then another detail. Small. Without realizing it, Shane looked for Ilya again.
Too synchronized. Too careful. Too… aware.
Scott tilted his head slightly, leaning closer.
—Told you.
—Told me what?” Kip murmured.
Scott never looked away.
—Something’s off.
He watched them again.
This time intentionally.
—And it’s not new.
Kip followed his gaze.
—You think…?
Scott didn’t answer immediately. Just let out a quiet breath.
—I’ve got a feeling.
One second.
—And I don’t think I’m wrong.
The sound of a glass being lightly tapped cut through the conversations. Slowly, the voices lowered.
A man at the front of the room—elegant, composed—lifted the microphone.
—Good evening, everyone.
A brief pause.
—It’s an honor to see this room full once again. Players, teams, sponsors… and everyone who’s part of this sport.
Several heads lifted.
—The Frozen Crown Gala isn’t just a celebration. It’s a reminder of what this game represents… on and off the ice.
He looked around the room.
—The new season is about to begin. New teams. New moves… new stories.
A faint smile.
—And if there’s one thing we’ve learned, it’s that this sport never stays the same.
He raised his glass.
—Enjoy the night… because what’s coming next will be even better.
—Cheers.
Everyone toasted, holding smiles that looked polished but barely believable. The echo was soft. Then the murmur returned. Conversations resumed like someone had loosened a tight rope. Glasses lifting. Laughter. People moving aimlessly across the room.
—I’m serious,” Marco Silva, defenseman for the Lisbon Titans, said while leaning against the bar. “That contract is ridiculously inflated.”
—You’re not paying for the ice,” Derek Vaughn, forward for the New York Arrows, replied. “You’re paying for the image.”
—That image doesn’t sell that much.
—He has five million followers.
Marco let out a short laugh.
—Then let him play on Instagram.
—Welcome to the business.
A third player approached, raising his drink. Liam O’Connor from the Dublin Wolves.
—Who are we tearing apart tonight?
—Anyone making more money than us.
Liam grinned.
—Then you’ve got a busy night ahead.
The three of them laughed.
—Hey,” Derek added, lowering his voice. “Did you see who showed up with who?”
Marco lifted an eyebrow.
—There’s always something.
—Yeah… but tonight feels different.
One second.
—Weirder than previous years.
The music continued. So, did the conversations. But underneath all of it… other things were moving too.
Kip approached Shane first.
—Hey.
Shane turned, slightly surprised.
—Hey.
—I’m Kip.
A small gesture.
—I’m with Scott.
—Yeah, I saw.
A brief pause.
—What’s it like?” Kip asked.
—What?
—All of this.
He gestured lightly around the room.
—The attention. The fame.
Shane let out a faint laugh.
—You get used to it.
—Do you like it?
One second.
—It has good parts.
Kip nodded.
—I can imagine.
Scott appeared beside him almost silently.
—Interesting night.
Shane looked at him.
—Yeah.
Then—
—You and Rozanov…” Scott said. “You two are getting closer, huh?”
Shane reacted immediately.
—What?
Too fast.
—Why would you say that?
Inside—
Fuck.
They know.
Scott’s expression didn’t change.
—I mean… he’s in Ottawa now.
A slight shrug.
—Closer.
A soft pause.
—About two hours away, if I’m not mistaken.
There. That was the moment everything clicked into place. The looks. The message. The measured distance. And now this. For Scott, it wasn’t suspicion anymore. It was confirmation. Shane held his gaze.
—I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Controlled.
—I barely even have time for that.
A pause.
—But now that you mention it…
He shrugged lightly.
—Maybe I should ask Rozanov about it.
See if he finally stops being an asshole to me.
Scott didn’t answer.
Didn’t need to.
—Excuse me,” Shane added. “I’m getting a drink.”
And he walked away.
The bar area was quieter. Darker. More intimate.
—Whiskey.
—Crown Royal or Forty Creek?
—Whatever.
He just needed something strong enough to calm his nerves.
Then suddenly, Shane turned with the glass in his hand.
A guy.
Young. Confident. Effortless.
—Sorry.
The guy had stepped forward and lightly bumped into him.
—It’s fine.
Shane looked at him curiously.
—Do you work here?” the younger guy asked.
Shane stiffened slightly.
—What?
—Sorry. Thought you were part of the staff.
Shane looked him over quickly from head to toe. Something about him… didn’t fit.
—No.
Flat. The guy shrugged.
—Alright.
Like it didn’t matter at all. He turned away. Shane stayed still.
Who the hell is this guy?
And then—
…he was attractive.
But that wasn’t what bothered him.
It was the indifference.
The fact that he didn’t recognize him.
—Hey.
The guy stopped.
—Yeah?
—You seriously don’t know who I am?
A faint smile.
—No.
Direct.
—Should I?
That was enough.
—Forget it.
—Perfect.
And he walked away without looking back. Shane stayed there with the glass still in his hand. Annoyed. Intrigued. And without wanting to admit it… interested.
Across another side of the room, Scott was already moving. Ilya stood alone.
—Last time we didn’t really talk.
—No.
Scott gestured lightly.
—This is Kip.
Ilya nodded once.
—Nice to meet you.
Short. Formal.
And then—
—So…” Scott said. “Now you’re gonna be a lot closer to Hollander.”
Direct.
Ilya looked at him.
—What are you talking about?
—Nothing specific.” Scott shrugged.
—I just didn’t hear a very convincing reason for you to move to Ottawa.
His voice stayed calm.
—So I figured… maybe you wanted to be closer to your rival.
Heavy silence.
Ilya didn’t answer. Didn’t deny it. Didn’t confirm it either. Just held his gaze. Scott stayed quiet too. But he already knew.
Across the room… Shane looked over again. Ilya didn’t look back. And in the middle of the entire gala— between the laughter, the drinks, the conversations— what actually mattered… still wasn’t being said out loud.