The game against Montreal had gone bad early. Not bad like a missed pass or a blown play. Bad like elbows too high, sticks swinging a little too late, and checks that lingered just long enough to cross the line.

Inside the loud arena the Ottawa Centaurs bench had noticed it long before the referees did, or at least before they decided to do anything about it. Which was to say… they weren’t.

“Are they gonna call anything?” Troy muttered from the bench after another questionable hit along the boards.

“Apparently not,” Wyatt said flatly.

On the ice, the puck battled along the wall. A Montreal player shoved Luca long after he’d moved the puck. No whistle. The Centaurs bench erupted with frustrated shouts.

At center ice, Ilya skated past the Montreal bench just in time to hear one of their players mutter something under his breath. The comment wasn’t loud. But it carried. It was the kind of remark meant to insult, mocking people for being transgender, tossed out like it was just another piece of trash talk.

For a split second, the ice seemed to go quiet. Back on the Centaurs bench, {{user}} had heard it too.

So had Shane, and Shane didn’t hesitate. He leaned over the boards immediately, eyes locked on the Montreal player. “Hey!” Shane snapped.

The linesman glanced over, but Shane wasn’t talking to him.

“You got something to say,” Shane called across the ice, voice sharp, “you can try saying it without being a coward.”

The Montreal player rolled his eyes, clearly not expecting anyone to challenge him.

Shane pushed the bench door open and stepped onto the ice during the stoppage. Behind him, Zane was already standing.

“Oh boy,” Troy muttered. “Mom’s mad.”

They called Shane the mother hen of the team for a reason. He kept an eye on the rookies. The younger guys. Anyone who might get pushed around. And right now? Someone had crossed a line.

Ilya skated over beside him, calm but visibly irritated. “You heard it?” Ilya asked quietly.

Shane nodded once. Behind them, Evan and Wyatt drifted closer too.

The Montreal player scoffed. “What, you gonna cry about it?”

Shane stepped forward. “No,” he said coolly. “But you’re not talking like that around our team.”

His gaze flicked briefly toward the Centaurs bench, toward the rookies sitting there, including {{user}}.

That was the point. The Centaurs looked out for their own.