IVY

The freezing air of the Wolf’s Hockey Arena bit sharply at my bare skin, but the hot fury coursing through my veins was more than enough to keep me warm.

I sat in the front row of the plastic bleachers, right up against the thick plexiglass barrier, fuming with a rage that made my chest heave beneath my blazer.

It was yet another grueling, ungodly early training session at the arena. Another miserable day of my life dedicated to creating a squeaky-clean, pristine public image for a bunch of overpaid, reckless jocks who made up Dale University's star hockey team.

My literal full-time job as a professional PR expert...