A/N: This snippet from Royce King, Jr. happens prior to Chapter 35 from Along Came a Spider 2, giving you a few more details about Vladdy’s trade.

/ /\ (oo) /\ \

Wednesday morning, I’m surprised when my father bursts through the door of my office.

“Hey, Dad.”

He waves off my greeting, slams the door shut, then points at me. “I want the Russian gone.”

“Who? Sokolov? He’s one of our best players. No. Absolutely not. And since when do you care about hockey players?”

“Did you hear what I said? I. Want. Him. Gone!” he demands angrily.

“No. Do you know what he means to this team? No. Unh-uh.” I dig in my heels because he isn’t going to win this fight.

“I don’t care what he means. You’ll do it because I said so.” His eyes narrow, as if he dares me to contradict him.

Losing Vladdy is not in the plan for this team.

Shaking my head, I know there’s no way I’m trading him. “Dad, this is my team. I make the decisions here, not you. I refuse to allow Alice to sign off on an idea as ridiculous as this one.”

“You’ll keep your damn mouth shut where Alice is concerned, or you’ll be replaced by that assistant of yours—Scott,” he threatens with an icy edge to his voice.

With contempt surging through my veins, I’m pissed over the fact that my father would even threaten taking this team away from me.

I don’t know what to do.

What recourse do I have?

He’s never involved himself here in the past, and I’m struggling for another option in this situation.

“But why do you—”

“Am. I. Understood?” He cuts me off, leaving little doubt of the only possible answer.

Fuck.

It’s Vladdy or me.

“Yes.”

“I’ll handle Alice. She’ll sign whatever I tell her to sign.” He smirks victoriously.

“Even if she agrees, the trade still has to be approved by the league,” I explain.

His expression shifts for a moment before he nods. “I’ll make a call.”

Shit.

I hold out my hands in question. “What am I supposed to tell him?”

“You’ll figure it out. You are the GM—for now.”

/ /\ (oo) /\ \

By late Sunday afternoon, the players should be arriving for tonight’s game, and I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to say to a player who I can’t believe is slipping through my fingers.

I’m helpless to prevent it.

The deal is done.

Approved less than an hour ago.

Alice signed off and so did the commissioner.

It’s going to be all over the news that I’m a fucking idiot for trading him.

It wasn’t my choice or ultimately my decision, but of my options, it was the least I could do—getting Vladdy on a team that I’m confident should be in the playoff hunt.

“Cap’s here,” Scott says, looking up from his phone from where he sits next to me.

After rubbing the tense muscles in my neck, I blow out a heavy breath, but continue to stare out at the empty arena.

“Tell him I need to see him immediately.”

I’m out of time, and I need to start breaking the news.

“You got it. I’m going to slip downstairs for a bit.”

“Send up Sokolov once he arrives.”

“Will do.” Scott nods.

“And have someone pack his bag.”

He’s no longer a Dallas Star.