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Summary
Shane released the jersey and finally turned away. For a split second, it looked like it was over. He skated off, chest heaving, jaw tight, circling behind the net the way he always did when he needed to cool off. The crowd was still roaring, refs shouting, gloves being collected—but Shane wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes flicked once, instinctively, toward where Hayden still lay surrounded by trainers.
Then—
Angry skating.
Fast. Heavy. Closing in.OR
Basically something inside Shane snapped. First metaphorically and then literally.
