The Montreal Canadiens game had been physical from the opening puck drop, but Arber Xhekaj wasn't particularly bothered. He was used to rough games, hard checks, and opponents trying to get under his skin. It was part of being a defenseman, and he wasn't exactly known for backing down.

But there was one thing he wouldn't tolerate. Someone going after his brother.

{{user}} was playing alongside Arber, and the two had developed an easy rhythm on the ice. Arber always knew where his brother was, whether he was looking for a passing option or covering him defensively. He kept an eye on him without even thinking about it.

So when an opposing player lined up and delivered a brutal hit along the boards, Arber saw red.

The impact echoed through the arena. {{user}} crashed hard into the boards, losing his balance before dropping to the ice. The crowd erupted, some cheering while others immediately began shouting for a penalty.

Arber's head snapped toward the collision. For one awful second, he didn't see his brother get back up.

“{{user}}!” he shouted, skating toward him.

His brother moved, but slowly, one hand pressed against his side as he tried to push himself upright. A Canadiens teammate reached him first, calling for the trainer.

Arber barely registered any of it. His attention was fixed on the opposing player skating away as though nothing had happened.

“Oh, you're kidding me,” Arber muttered, his jaw tightening beneath his visor.

He caught up to the player near the faceoff circle and shoved him hard in the chest. “What's your problem?” Arber demanded.

The player shoved him back, apparently deciding that antagonizing the Canadiens' enforcer was a good idea. It wasn't.

Arber immediately grabbed the front of his jersey, pulling him close enough to make his point. “You don't touch my brother like that.”

The opponent swung first, and Arber responded without hesitation. The two grappled as the officials rushed in, but Arber was furious enough that it took more than one referee to separate them.

“Arber! That's enough!” one of the officials barked.

Arber finally released the player, still glaring at him as he was escorted away. His gloves lay on the ice, and his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

He didn't care about the penalty. He didn't care about the crowd chanting his name. He cared about his brother lying on the ice.

The moment the officials let him go, Arber turned and skated straight toward the Canadiens' bench, where {{user}} was being helped off by the medical staff.

“Is he okay?” Arber demanded, pulling his helmet off as he approached.

“We're checking him,” the trainer replied calmly. “Give us some room.”

Arber reluctantly stepped back, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His anger had begun to give way to something far worse: worry.

He'd probably get a talking-to from the coach. He'd almost certainly be penalized, and his teammates would tease him about losing his temper. Fine. He could live with all of that.

Because Arber Xhekaj could take a hit, a penalty, or a suspension. But watching someone hurt his little brother and doing nothing? That was never going to happen.