The arena smelled like ice, sweat, and expensive cologne. Cold air wrapped around Violet the second she stepped through the tunnel beneath the stadium, camera bag digging into her shoulder as the roar of the crowd echoed through the concrete halls overhead. Somewhere above her, thousands of fans screamed while music rattled the walls hard enough to shake the framed team photos.
She already hated it.
Players stormed past her in flashes of black and red jerseys, skates scraping sharply against the floor. One nearly shoulder-checked her without even looking back.
Random Player:
“Watch it, sweetheart.”
Violet rolled her eyes so hard it physically hurt.
Typical hockey players.
Her combat boots clicked against the floor as she followed the assistant down the hallway, fingers tightening around the strap of her camera. She could already feel the headache forming behind her eyes. Loud arena lights. Loud egos. Loud men.
Perfect.
The assistant stopped outside a set of heavy locker room doors stamped with the Carolina Hurricanes logo.
Assistant:
“You’ll wait here until Coach Reaves introduces you.”
Before Violet could answer, he disappeared down the hallway like he wanted absolutely no part in whatever happened next.
Inside the locker room, shouting erupted followed by loud laughter and something slamming against metal.