Work Text:
It started at 2:14 AM on a Tuesday.
A burner account on X dropped a link to a massive, encrypted folder. It wasn't just a few stray comments; it was two years’ worth of a private group chat titled "The Habs-Nots" belonging to six core players of the Montreal Voyageurs.
The contents were a toxic cocktail of locker room "humor" that had curdled into blatant homophobia, much of it directed specifically at Shane and Ilya.
***
[TEXT MESSAGE GROUP CHAT: THE PR BUNKER]
Harris [2:19 AM]: Sarah. Wake up. Please tell me you aren’t seeing what I’m seeing.
Sarah [2:21 AM]: I’m seeing it. 40 gigabytes of screenshots. It’s bad, Harris. It’s "legal-department-is-calling-the-league-offices" bad.
Harris [2:22 AM]: Miller is in there. Their star goalie is in there. They’re using slurs I haven’t heard since the 90s. And they’re talking about Shane and Ilya’s wedding like it was a marketing seminar.
Sarah [2:24 AM]: Do not let Ilya see this. Whatever you do, keep him off his phone. If he sees what Miller said about Shane’s "performance" in the playoffs vs. their marriage... Ilya will catch a flight to Montreal tonight.
Harris [2:25 AM]: It’s too late. I just saw Ilya’s "Active" status on Instagram. He’s awake.
Harris [2:26 AM]: God help us all. 😑🙄
***
@HockeyLeakz: 🚨 MAJOR LEAK: Private group chat of 6 Montreal Voyageurs players leaked. Includes homophobic slurs and targeted harassment of Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov. The MLH is silent so far. #MontrealLeak #MLH #HollanderRozanov #Centaurs
@CentsFan_99: I’m reading the screenshots... Miller really called Shane a "corporate puppet"? And the stuff they said about Ilya’s accent? I’m sick. 🤢 Where is the league statement?! #Centaurs #HockeyEquality #FireMiller
***
[TEXT MESSAGE: ILYA TO SHANE]
Ilya [2:34 AM]: Shane. Are you awake?
Shane [2:35 AM]: I am now. Where are you? Harris just texted me. He’s losing it.
Ilya [2:36 AM]: I am down in the gym. Do not read the folder, Shane. I mean it. I have read enough for both of us.
Shane [2:37 AM]: Too late, Ilya. I’m looking at Miller’s chat from last October. He’s a coward. He’s always been a coward.
Ilya [2:38 AM]: A coward who will have no teeth by Friday. 🦴
Shane [2:39 AM]: Ilya. Stay off Twitter. Harris is already threatening to have us benched for the season if we engage. The league is "investigating."
Ilya [2:40 AM]: "Investigating" is what you do when you want to wait for the news cycle to die. I am not a "marketing stunt," Shane. And you are not what they called you in that chat.
Shane [2:41 AM]: I know what I am. I’m your husband. And right now, I’m am your Co-Captain who has to tell you: do NOT tweet. Let the league handle it first. Please come back to bed. We can cuddle, I need you right now.
Ilya [2:41 AM]: Coming Now Moya Lyubov!!!!!
***
[X TRENDING]
- #MontrealLeak
- #FireMiller
- #HollanderRozanov
- #CentaursPride
- #VoyageursScandal
***
@IlyaRozanov81_official: [2:42 AM] The silence from the head office in Montreal is louder than the words in that folder. 😶 #MLH #Accountability #Centaurs
@Harris_PR_Cents: [Reply to @IlyaRozanov81_official] I AM RETIRING. I MEAN IT THIS TIME. 😑🙄
***
The dawn at the Centaurs practice facility was a circus of flashing lights and shouting voices. Usually, the morning skate was a quiet affair, but today, the barricades were straining against the weight of every sports reporter from Ottawa to Montreal.
The black SUV pulled up to the player entrance with a screech of tires. The doors hadn't even fully opened before the wall of sound hit them.
"Shane! Shane! Have you seen the Montreal leak?"
"Ilya! Did you read what Miller said about your wedding night?"
"Co-Captain Hollander! Is the team planning a boycott of the Montreal game?"
Shane stepped out first, his face a mask of cold, professional granite. He didn't look at the cameras. He didn't look at the microphones being shoved over the yellow tape. He reached back, his hand finding Ilya’s as the other Co-Captain stepped out beside him.
Ilya looked like a coiled spring, his blue eyes dark and fixed straight ahead. His jaw was set so tight it was a wonder he could breathe.
"Ilya! Was the 'marketing stunt' comment the reason for the locker room fight last season?"
"Shane! Is the league doing enough to protect gay players?"
Harris was already at the door, waving them in like a man directing traffic in a hurricane. "No comments! No statement! Back up!"
The two Co-Captains moved as one, a silent, unified front that ignored the chaos. They didn't stop, they didn't flinch, and they didn't give the press a single syllable to misinterpret. They were inside the heavy security doors in seconds, the slamming of the locks finally muffling the screams of the reporters.
***
The locker room was deathly quiet. No music. No chirping. Just the heavy, rhythmic sound of players taping sticks and the low hum of the television in the corner, which was currently muted on a 24-hour news cycle showing Miller’s face.
Shane pulled his jersey over his head, the "C" on his chest mirroring the "C" on Ilya’s stall right next to him. They texted each other instead of saying things out loud, it was easier for now.
Ilya [8:14 AM]: They are vultures, Shane.
Shane [8:15 AM]: I know. Don't look at the TV, Ilya.
Ilya [8:16 AM]: I do not need to look at TV. I have the words burned into my head. "Marketing stunt." "Diversity hire." Miller is a dead man. 🦴
Shane [8:17 AM]: We are Co-Captains, Ilya. We lead this team. If we go out there and start a war in the media, Harris will actually have a heart attack.
Ilya [8:18 AM]: Maybe he needs one. Maybe everyone needs to wake up.
***
The Digital Fallout: 9:00 AM
While the boys were on the ice, the internet was tearing the Montreal Voyageurs apart piece by piece.
@HockeyInsider_1: Source: The Montreal Voyageurs have cancelled their morning presser. Rumors of a "private meeting" with the league office are swirling. Miller is reportedly "unavailable for comment." 🚫🏒 #VoyageursLeak #MLH
@CentsGoalie: If the league doesn't suspend every player in that chat, they’re basically saying it’s okay to target the Co-Captains. This isn't "locker room talk." It's hate. 🌈🏒 #Centaurs #Hollander #Rozanov
@Harris_PR_Cents: [Internal Memo Leaked] All Centaurs staff and players are under a total media blackout. Any unauthorized tweets will result in immediate fines.
@IlyaRozanov81_official: [9:42 AM] [Posted a photo of his and Shane’s hands on the ice, their wedding bands on full display while holding their hockey sticks . No caption.]
[TEXT MESSAGE: HARRIS TO SARAH]
Harris [9:45 AM]: HE POSTED THE RINGS, SARAH. 😑🙄
Sarah [9:46 AM]: It’s not a bone emoji, Harris. It’s one of their wedding photos. Technically, he’s following the rules.
Harris [9:47 AM]: He’s baiting them! He knows exactly what he’s doing. And Shane liked it within thirty seconds. I’m going to go drink a bottle of antacids and sit in a dark room.
***
The air in the Centaurs' media room was thick with the smell of stale coffee and Harris’s palpable anxiety. He was pacing in front of a teleprompter, holding a piece of paper that looked like it had been handled by a man with very sweaty palms.
Sarah stood by the camera, her arms crossed, watching the Co-Captains as they sat side-by-side on the high stools. They looked identical in their post-practice gear, both wearing their "C" with a grim, unified stillness that made the room feel small.
"Okay, boys," Harris said, his voice reaching a frantic pitch. "The league has vetted this. We need to stay above the fray. No names, no specifics about the folder, just a general 'we believe in a game for everyone' vibe. Shane, you lead, Ilya, you nod and say 'we are focused on the next game.' Got it?"
Harris hit the remote, and the text scrolled up:
"We are aware of the recent reports regarding private communications from members of the Montreal organization. While these comments are disappointing, the Ottawa Centaurs remain committed to an inclusive environment. We trust the league's investigation and are focusing on our upcoming schedule..."
Shane stared at the screen for a long, heavy beat. He didn't blink. He didn't even lean in. Beside him, Ilya made a sound in the back of his throat, a low, rhythmic growl that usually preceded a game-misconduct penalty.
"Harris," Shane said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "This is garbage."
"It’s safe, Shane!" Harris hissed. "It’s 'Gold Standard' PR. It protects the brand."
"The brand is being called a 'marketing stunt,' Harris," Ilya snapped, his Russian accent sharpening into a blade. "My marriage is being called a 'PR seminar.' You want me to nod and say I am focusing on the next game? I am focusing on the fact that Miller thinks my husband is a 'corporate puppet.' I am not a monk today."
Ilya reached out and physically turned the teleprompter screen away.
"Shane," Sarah said, stepping forward. "If you go off-script, the league will fine you. They might even suspend you for 'detrimental conduct' if you name Miller specifically."
Shane looked at Ilya. It wasn't a question; it was a silent synchronization. Then he looked back at Sarah.
"Let them fine us," Shane said, his eyes turning into that cold, dangerous granite that Nashville had learned to fear. "Ilya and I have spent our entire careers playing by the rules so the 'brand' wouldn't get hurt. But those rules don't seem to apply to the guys in Montreal. So, we’re changing the play."
***
1:45 PM
Harris didn't even have time to pull the plug. Shane reached out, hit the "Go Live" button on his official Instagram account, bypassing the PR laptop entirely, and propped his phone against a water bottle.
@ShaneHollander is LIVE
Watching: 42.8k... 85.1k... 112k...
Shane didn't look at a script. He looked directly into the lens.
"We were told to give a prepared statement," Shane began, his hand resting firmly on Ilya’s shoulder. "But as Co-Captains of this team, we feel that silence is just another way of agreeing with what was said in those leaks."
"The Montreal Voyageurs have a culture problem," Ilya added, his voice vibrating with restrained fury. "It is not 'locker room talk' to target a man’s family. It is not 'chirping' to use slurs because you are losing on the scoreboard. We are not a 'stunt.' We are a family."
Shane leaned in closer. "To the league: an 'investigation' isn't an action. To the Voyageurs: we see you. We’ll see you on Friday in Montreal. And to the fans who are hurt by what’s in that folder, we’re not going anywhere."
Shane reached out and killed the feed, grabbed Ilya’s hand and walked out.
Harris followed behind, heading straight for his office to grab those antacids.
***
[TEXT MESSAGE: HARRIS TO SARAH]
Harris [2:16 PM]: I’m not even going to the goat farm anymore. I’m just going to walk into the woods and let a bear eat me. 😑🙄
Sarah [2:17 PM]: Harris... look at the numbers.
Sarah [2:18 PM]: 500,000 views in four minutes. Every major news outlet is carrying it. They didn't just break the script, Harris. They set the script on fire.
***
@IlyaRozanov81_official: [2:20 PM] I am not quiet today. 🦴💍 #Centaurs #CoCaptains #Husbands
@ShaneHollander: [Retweeted @IlyaRozanov81_official] Always with you. 🏒🏳️🌈
***
The air in the windowless meeting room was thick enough to choke on. Harris wasn't pacing this time; he was sitting perfectly still, staring at two burner phones on the table like they were unexploded ordnance. Sarah was leaning against the door, her arms crossed, looking more like a co-conspirator than a media consultant.
Shane and Ilya sat opposite them, the weight of their "unscripted" Instagram Live still hanging in the room. The fine from the league had already hit their inboxes, a staggering $15,000 to each of them, but neither Co-Captain looked like they regretted a single word.
"We can't stop you," Harris said, his voice unusually quiet. It wasn't the sound of defeat; it was the sound of a man who had finally decided to stop fighting the tide and start steering the boat.
"Harris?" Shane asked, his brow furrowing. "If this is the part where you tell us to apologize…"
"It isn't," Sarah interrupted. "We know the 'Gold Standard' is dead. Montreal killed it, and you buried it. But if you keep posting from your verified accounts, the league is going to escalate from fines to suspensions. They’ll sideline the Co-Captains right before the playoffs to 'protect the image of the game.'"
Harris pushed the two phones across the table.
"Sarah and I have been at this a long time," Harris said, a small, dangerous glint appearing in his eyes. "We knew a day would come when the official channels wouldn't be enough. We’ve had these active for eighteen months. They look like fan accounts. They have followers, they have history, and they have zero 'blue checkmark' oversight."
Ilya picked up one of the phones, his thumb sliding over the screen. The handle was @Cents_DefensiveZone81. The profile picture was a blurry shot of the Ottawa rafters.
Shane picked up the other: @Hollander_HighStick. It looked like a typical hockey-nerd account, filled with stats and grainy practice clips.
"No one knows these exist," Harris whispered. "Not the coaching staff, not the owner, and definitely not the league offices. You have the logins. You can say whatever you want, chirp whoever you want, and leak whatever 'fan theory' you feel like."
"But," Sarah added, pointing a finger at both of them, "there are rules. Rule one: You keep this to yourselves. If a teammate finds out, the leak starts with them. Rule two: No personal photos. No 'Ilya’s cooking' shots, no 'Shane’s freckles' close-ups. If it looks like it came from inside your house, you're dead."
"And rule three," Harris said, leaning in. "Do not, under any circumstances, tag yourselves. Make it look like you’re just two very observant, very angry fans who happen to have a lot of 'insider' theories."
Ilya’s face slowly split into the widest, most predatory grin Shane had ever seen. It was the look of a wolf who had just been given the keys to the sheep pen.
"Harris," Ilya purred, his Russian accent thick with delight. "I have never liked you more than in this moment."
"Don't tell me that," Harris groaned, rubbing his temples. "I’m still retiring. But if we’re going to war with Montreal, I’d rather we do it with some deniability."
Shane looked at the phone in his hand, then at Ilya. The "Steady Anchor" was gone. In its place was a Co-Captain who was ready to play dirty.
"We’re in," Shane said.
***
The Digital Guerrilla War: 11:45 PM
While the official @ShaneHollander account was posting a polite "Thank you for the support" graphic, the shadows of the internet were getting a lot more interesting.
@Cents_DefensiveZone81: Anyone else notice that Miller’s 'save percentage' drops by 20% when he’s playing against a team with a Pride night? 🏳️🌈🤔 Maybe he’s not 'distracted,' maybe he’s just terrified of losing to a 'marketing stunt.' #MontrealLeak #MLH #Centaurs
@Hollander_HighStick: [Replying to @Cents_DefensiveZone81] It’s the glove side. He leaves it open every time he tries to chirp a player with something homophobic . It’s like his ego is too heavy for his arm to lift. 🏒📉 #VoyageursScandal
@HockeyFan_X: Damn, these two accounts are ruthless. Do they know Miller’s glove side stats from the 2nd period last March too?! 😳🔥
***
The blue light of their phones was the only thing illuminating the bedroom, reflecting off the white duvet as they leaned against the headboard. The silence of their Ottawa home was a sharp contrast to the digital war they were currently waging under the covers.
Ilya let out a sharp, triumphant huff, his thumb hovering over the screen of his burner phone. "Shane. Did you see what I said about his pads? I think @Cents_DefensiveZone81 is officially his biggest nightmare."
Shane didn't look up from his own screen, but a small, dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I saw it. I also saw you almost used a bone emoji in that reply. Careful, 'Saint.' If you start dropping femurs on a fan account, people are going to start connecting the dots."
Ilya shifted, his shoulder brushing Shane’s as he leaned in to show him the latest notification. "I am not a saint tonight, Shane. I am a fan with a very loud voice and a very high-speed internet connection. It is... liberating." He tapped the screen with a grin. "And on the burner phone, Harris says it does not count against my 'monk' record."
Shane finally locked his screen and set the phone on the nightstand, turning his head to look at his husband. The playful, predatory light in Ilya’s eyes was the most relaxed he’d looked since the leak dropped.
"Go to sleep," Shane murmured, reaching out to pull the burner phone from Ilya’s hand. "We have a game to win in Montreal on Friday. And I think @Hollander_HighStick has posted enough 'theories' about the Voyageurs' defensive collapse to keep the Montreal press busy until morning."
Ilya let him take the phone, sliding down into the pillows and pulling Shane with him. "You are a very good Co-Captain, Shane. Very bossy. I like it."
"Shut up, Ilya," Shane breathed, but he was smiling as he reached for the lamp.
***
The Bell Centre was a powder keg. Every time a Centaurs jersey appeared on the jumbotron during warm-ups, the boos were deafening, a wall of sound designed to swallow the visitors whole. But in the middle of the ice, Shane and Ilya moved in a synchronized, terrifyingly calm circle, their Co-Captain "C"s catching the arena lights.
They weren't looking at the crowd. They were looking at the Montreal bench, where Miller was pointedly avoiding eye contact, his gloved hands shaking slightly as he took his position in the crease.
High in the press box, tucked behind a pillar where the Montreal PR team couldn't see them, Harris and Sarah sat with four phones laid out on a cramped desk. Harris looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin, but his thumbs were moving with professional precision.
"They're on the ice," Harris whispered, his eyes darting to the screen. "The Voyageurs look like they’ve seen a ghost. Miller’s warming up like he’s playing with a broken stick."
"Then let's give the fans something to talk about," Sarah said, her face illuminated by the glow of the @Hollander_HighStick account. "You take the defensive breakdowns, I’ll take the psychological warfare."
***
6:45 PM
@Cents_DefensiveZone81: Just watched Miller take three pucks to the five-hole in warm-ups. 😬🏒 Looks like someone spent more time in the group chat this week than in the film room. #MontrealLeak #Centaurs #Voyageurs
@Hollander_HighStick: Notice how the Voyageurs bench isn’t even talking to each other? That locker room is a graveyard. 🪦 Meanwhile, the Co-Captains are looking like they’re out for a Sunday skate. The contrast is embarrassing. #MLH #MontrealVSCentaurs
@HabsFan_MTL: [Replying to @Hollander_HighStick] Shut up. We’re going to crush them. Miller is just focused.
@Cents_DefensiveZone81: [Replying to @HabsFan_MTL] Focused on what? His early retirement? 🦴 Because Shane just ripped a wrister past his ear and he didn't even flinch. It’s going to be a long night for Montreal. 🏒🔥
***
Puck Drop: 7:07 PM
The game was brutal from the first whistle. It wasn't just hockey; it was an exorcism. Every hit was a second longer than necessary. Every scrum along the boards felt like it was one shove away from a bench-clearing brawl.
Shane took a cross-check to the ribs in the first five minutes that went uncalled. He didn't look at the ref. He didn't even look at the player who hit him. He just got up, adjusted his glove, and caught Ilya’s eye. A silent command passed between the Co-Captains: Don't get mad. Get even.
The first goal came with 12 minutes on the clock still of the first period.
Shane carried the puck over the blue line, drawing two defenders toward him. It was a classic Hollander move, the "Steady Anchor" pulling the gravity of the game toward himself. Just as the defenders closed in, he spun and sent a blind, backhand pass directly onto the tape of Ilya’s stick.
Ilya didn't hesitate. He wound up and unleashed a slap shot so hard it sounded like a gunshot echoing through the arena. The puck beat Miller clean on the glove side, the exact weakness the burner accounts had been mocking for three days.
The Centaurs' bench exploded. Shane was the first one to reach Ilya, hauling him into a celebratory embrace that lasted just a beat too long for a "professional" environment. It was a statement.
***
The First Intermission: 7:45 PM
@Cents_DefensiveZone81: GLOVE SIDE. 🥊 I told you. He’s reaching for it like he’s trying to catch a fly in a hurricane. Ilya Rozanov just put that puck exactly where the leak said Miller’s ego was hiding. 🦴🏒 #Centaurs #Rozanov #Goal
@Hollander_HighStick: Did you see the look on Shane’s face after that goal? 💍 That wasn't just a Co-Captain celebrating. That was a man watching his husband bury the hate under a pile of rubber. Montreal is silent. We love to see it. 🏳️🌈🏒 #Hollander #TheLeak #CentaursPride
@TSN_Hockey_Update: The atmosphere in Montreal is toxic, but the Centaurs are playing flawless hockey. Hollander and Rozanov are leading with a level of intensity we haven't seen all season. Miller has been pulled after the first period. 📉 #MLH
***
The Second Period
The Voyageurs’ backup goalie was no better. The frustration in the arena was boiling over. Late in the second, a Montreal defenseman took a run at Ilya behind the net, catching him high.
Shane was there in a heartbeat. He didn't wait for the whistle. He dropped his gloves and stepped directly into the defenseman’s path, his face a mask of cold, calculating fury. He didn't throw a punch, he just stood there, his chest inches from the other player’s, the "C" on his jersey practically glowing.
He said something, one short, sharp sentence that made the Montreal player turn pale and skate away without a word.
***
@Cents_DefensiveZone81: I’d give anything to know what Shane Hollander just said to Stedlund. 😶 Stedlund looked like he just saw his own career end in Shane’s eyes. The Co-Captain is NOT playing tonight. #DangerousCaptain #Centaurs
@Hollander_HighStick: Whatever he said, it worked. The Voyageurs have officially stopped hitting. They’re scared. They should be. You don't come for the family. 🏒😤 #ProtectTheGold #Centaurs
***
The silence in the Centaurs' locker room following the win in Montreal wasn't the usual celebratory roar. It was a heavy, triumphant hum, the sound of a team that hadn't just won a hockey game, but had successfully defended their own.
Shane and Ilya sat side-by-side at their stalls, still dripping with sweat, chests heaving. They didn't head for the showers. Instead, they reached for their phones with a synchronization that made the rookies give them a wide berth.
Beside them, Harris was leaning against a gear trunk, his own phone clutched in a hand that was finally, mercifully, still. He looked exhausted, but for the first time in weeks, he wasn't vibrating. Sarah stood by the door, tapping a rhythm against her iPad, a small, victorious smirk playing on her lips.
***
Shane swiped into the @Hollander_HighStick account, his eyes widening as he saw the notification count. It was a landslide.
@Hollander_HighStick: Final: Centaurs 5, Voyageurs 1. 🏒🔥 Miller pulled in the 1st. Stedlund scared to finish his checks. The Co-Captains didn't just play hockey; they gave a masterclass in how to bury a coward. #Centaurs #MontrealIsDone #HollanderRozanov
@Cents_DefensiveZone81: [Replying to @Hollander_HighStick] Did you see the embrace after the third goal? 💍 That wasn't a "marketing stunt." That was a "stay the hell away from my husband" moment. I hope the league office enjoyed the show. 🦴🏒 #CentaursPride #DangerousCaptain
@HockeyGeek_MTL: I don’t know who runs these two accounts, but they’ve been ten steps ahead of the official broadcast all night. 🤯 They knew Miller was rattled before he even hit the ice. #TheLeak #Centaurs
***
Ilya let out a low, gravelly chuckle from the next stall, his thumb scrolling through the @Cents_DefensiveZone81 mentions. He looked over at Shane, showing him a tweet from a Montreal fan who was currently calling for Miller’s trade.
"Harris," Ilya said, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You are a very devious man. I think I am rubbing off on you. It is a good look."
"Don't get used to it," Harris muttered, though he didn't pull his eyes away from the screen. "I’ve spent the last three hours pretending I don't know why two random fan accounts are live-tweeting the Co-Captains' private conversations from the bench. I have ten missed calls from the league's VP of Communications. I’m ignoring all of them until I’m back in Ontario."
Sarah stepped closer, lowering her voice. "The 'Dangerous Captain' narrative is trending number one in Canada, Shane. People aren't talking about the slurs in the leak anymore, they’re talking about how you stood down Stedlund without throwing a single punch. You made them look small."
Shane locked his burner phone and set it carefully in his glove. He looked at Ilya, whose blue eyes were finally bright and clear, the darkness from the leak replaced by a sharp, predatory pride.
"We didn't just make them look small, Sarah," Shane said, his voice quiet but firm. "We made them look irrelevant."
Ilya leaned in, his shoulder heavy against Shane's, his damp hair curling at the nape of his neck. "And the best part? They have no idea it was us. They think the whole world is laughing at them. Because the whole world is laughing at them."
***
The Midnight Leak: 12:00 AM
Just as the team bus was pulling away from the Bell Centre, one final notification pinged across every phone in the MLH.
@Cents_DefensiveZone81: [A blurry, high-res photo from the tunnel, showing Miller sitting on the bench with his head in his hands after being pulled.]
Caption: This is the face of a man who realized that "marketing stunts" play harder than bigots. 🦴👋 See you in the playoffs, Montreal. If you make it that far. #Centaurs #TheEnd #CoCaptains
***
[TEXT MESSAGE: HARRIS TO SARAH]
Harris [12:05 AM]: Okay, the Miller photo was too much. I'm deleting the app. I'm throwing the burner phones into the Ottawa River. 😑🙄
Sarah [12:06 AM]: You’re not doing either of those things, Harris. We still haven't dealt with the Voyageurs' private accounts that are supposedly leaking tomorrow.
Harris [12:07 AM]: ...There are more?
Sarah [12:08 AM]: Oh, Harris. We’re just getting started. 🏒🔥
***
The Saturday morning sun in Ottawa was pale and cold, but the interior of the Centaurs’ briefing room was white-hot.
The "Voyageurs' Revenge" had dropped at 6:00 AM. It wasn't a group chat this time; it was a curated, malicious gallery of "candid" shots, Shane and Ilya caught in private moments over the last two years. Photos of them arguing in a parking lot, a blurry shot of Shane looking exhausted in a hospital waiting room, and, most cuttingly, a series of zoomed-in photos of their home windows in Ottawa with captions questioning their "stability."
Harris wasn't vibrating today. He was remarkably still, his eyes fixed on a printout of the latest Montreal-affiliated "fan" post that called Shane a "PR-managed shell of a man."
Sarah stood next to him, her fingers hovering over a tablet. "They went for the house, Harris. They went for the marriage behind closed doors."
Shane and Ilya sat across from them. Ilya looked like he was ready to breathe fire, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table. But it was Shane who was truly terrifying. The "Steady Anchor" was gone. His eyes were flat, cold, and possessed a predatory stillness that made even Harris take a half-step back.
"The burners were a good shield," Shane said, his voice dropping an octave into a dangerous, quiet rasp. "But they’re cowards hiding behind anonymous accounts too. If they want to talk about my marriage, they can talk to me now. Face to face. On main."
"Shane," Harris said, and for the first time, it wasn't a warning. it was a prompt. "If you do this, there is no 'Gold Standard' left. You are burning the bridge to the league office. You are becoming the story."
"The bridge is already on fire, Harris," Shane said, standing up. "Ilya, give me the phone."
Ilya blinked, startled. "Shane?"
"Give it to me. We’re not using the burners anymore. We’re not hiding. If Montreal wants a menace, they’re about to find out that you’ve been the 'nice' one this whole time."
Ilya’s face slowly split into a look of pure, unadulterated awe. He handed over the burner phone like he was handing a loaded weapon to a marksman.
***
10:42 AM
@ShaneHollander: [Posted a high-res, professional photo of the Montreal Voyageurs' front office building.]
Caption: You spent two years digging through our trash and lurking outside our windows just to find out we’re human. Next time, just ask. I’ll give you a tour of the trophy room while I’m at it. 🏒💍 #Centaurs #CoCaptains #NoMoreHiding
@IlyaRozanov81_official: [Replying to @ShaneHollander] My husband is being polite. I am not. Miller, if you want to see what a "marketing stunt" looks like, check the scoreboard from last night. Or check your closet, because I think your dignity is still hiding in there. 🦴😤
***
11:15 AM
The league issued a "Urgent Reminder of Social Media Conduct" via a mass email. Shane didn't even read it. He took a screenshot of the "Reminder" and posted it directly to his story.
@ShaneHollander [Instagram Story]: [Screenshot of the League's Warning] Text Overlay: "Funny how the 'reminders' only go out when the Gay Co-Captains start talking back. Where was this energy when the slurs about them leaked? We’re done playing the 'Standard.' ✌️🏒"
***
[TEXT MESSAGE: HARRIS TO SARAH]
Harris [11:20 AM]: Sarah. Shane just told the VP of Communications to "check the tape" in a public comment section.
Sarah [11:21 AM]: I know. I’m currently drafting a press release that basically says 'The Centaurs stand with their Co-Captains.' We’re going all in, Harris.
Harris [11:22 AM]: I’ve never seen Shane like this. He’s... he’s out-menacing Ilya. He just called the Montreal GM a "glorified accountant" on a live thread.
Sarah [11:23 AM]: He’s protecting his home, Harris. The 'Steady Anchor' just became the storm. ⛈️🏒
***
12:00 PM
The team was buzzing. The rookies were staring at Shane like he was a god. Ilya was sitting at his stall, leaning back with his arms behind his head, watching Shane systematically dismantle a Montreal sports reporter on Twitter with the surgical precision of a man who had been holding back for a decade.
"Shane," Ilya murmured, his eyes glowing with pride. "You are being very, very 'unprofessional.' Harris is going to have to buy a new heart."
Shane didn't look up from his screen. "Harris told us to handle it, Ilya. I’m handling it. By the time I’m done, no one in Montreal will even be able to say our names without checking their pulse."
Shane tapped the screen one last time, a dark, satisfied smirk crossing his face.
@ShaneHollander: To the Voyageurs fans wondering why your team is falling apart: It’s hard to win games when your leadership is obsessed with my marriage. Focus on the puck. I’ll focus on the ring. 💍🏒👋
***
The letter didn’t arrive via email. It was delivered by a private courier directly to the Centaurs’ front office, printed on heavy, cream-colored stationery with the embossed gold seal of the Commissioner of the MLH.
Harris held the envelope like it was laced with anthrax. He walked into the player lounge where Shane and Ilya were mid-film study, though both had their phones out, still monitoring the digital wreckage they’d left in Montreal’s wake.
"It’s here," Harris said, his voice flat. He didn't even look at the paper as he handed it to Shane.
Shane took it, his face unreadable, and read it aloud while Ilya leaned over his shoulder, his blue eyes narrowing with every word.
***
OFFICE OF THE COMMISSIONER — OFFICIAL SUMMONS
TO: Co-Captain Shane Hollander-Rozanov & Co-Captain Ilya Hollander-Rozanov
FROM: Commissioner Roger Crowell
RE: Formal Disciplinary Hearing — Conduct Detrimental to the League
Gentlemen,
The events of the past 72 hours have transitioned from a team-level disciplinary matter to a crisis of league-wide integrity. While the league does not condone the unauthorized leaks involving the Montreal organization, your subsequent "unprofessional" responses on verified social media channels have brought the MLH into disrepute.
The "Steady Hand" of this league is not a suggestion; it is a requirement of your contract. Your public defiance of the Social Media Conduct Policy and your targeted harassment of Montreal staff and league officials are unacceptable.
You are hereby ordered to appear before the Board of Governors at the League Offices in New York City on Monday at 9:00 AM. This is not a discussion. This is a hearing to determine your eligibility for the remainder of the season and the upcoming playoffs.
Failure to appear will result in immediate and indefinite suspension.
Roger Crowell, Commissioner, MLH
***
The room was silent for a long beat. Ilya let out a sharp, jagged laugh that sounded more like a bark. "Eligibility? They want to talk about our eligibility while Miller is still starting games in Montreal? Crowell is a joke."
"He’s not joking, Ilya," Sarah said, stepping in from the hallway. "He’s backed into a corner. The sponsors are calling, the Voyageurs' owners are screaming 'harassment,' and the 'Dangerous Captain' narrative is making the league look like they’ve lost control of you two."
Shane slowly folded the letter, the crisp paper snapping in the quiet room. He didn't look worried. He didn't even look annoyed. He looked like a man who had just been given the exact coordinates of the enemy's headquarters.
"He wants a 'Steady Hand'?" Shane asked, a dark, razor-sharp smirk spreading across his face. He looked at Ilya, a silent communication passing between them that made Harris shiver. "I’ll give him the steadiest hand he’s ever seen. Right before I use it to take his league apart."
***
Sunday, 10:00 PM
The night before the hearing, things reached a fever pitch.
@ShaneHollander: Heading to NYC. 🗽 Apparently, the Commissioner wants to talk about "integrity." I’ve got forty gigabytes of "integrity" saved on a thumb drive. See you in the morning, Crowell. 🏒💼 #Centaurs #TheHearing #Accountability
@IlyaRozanov81_official: [Posted a photo of his and Shane’s suits laid out on the bed, sharp, dark, and expensive.] Caption: We are dressing for a funeral. I wonder if the Commissioner knows it is his. 🦴👞 #CoCaptains #NewYork #MLH
***
[TEXT MESSAGE: HARRIS TO SARAH]
Harris [11:15 PM]: I’m on the plane to New York. Shane is currently reading the MLH Bylaws like they’re a playbook for a Game 7.
Sarah [11:16 PM]: He found the loophole, didn't he?
Harris [11:17 PM]: He found three. He told me to tell the press to be outside the league office at 8:45 AM. He’s not going in there to beg for his job, Sarah.
Harris [11:18 PM]: He’s going in there to take over the room. I’ve never seen the "Dangerous Captain" this focused. Crowell has no idea what’s walking through that door. 😑🙄
***
The SUV came to a halt exactly at 8:45 AM. The swarm of cameras was so thick the security detail had to physically shove a path toward the microphones set up on the bottom step.
Shane stepped out first, looking every bit the the one in charge in a charcoal suit that cost more than a rookie’s signing bonus. He didn't wait for the questions to start. He didn't wait for the shouting to die down. He reached back for Ilya’s hand, pulled his husband to his side, and stepped directly up to the cluster of mics.
The silence that fell over the sidewalk was instantaneous.
"We’re here today because the MLH office believes 'unprofessionalism' is a greater threat to this game than the targeted harassment of its players," Shane began, his voice projecting with a cold, steady resonance that caught every recorder in the radius.
He didn't look at the cameras; he looked through them. Beside him, Ilya stood like a silent sentinel, his eyes dark and sharp.
"Commissioner Roger Crowell sent us a letter about 'integrity,'" Shane continued, a razor-thin smirk touching his lips. "So, I’d encourage everyone here, and everyone in that building, to spend their morning reading the MLH Charter. Specifically Section 14, Paragraph 4."
A reporter shouted from the back, "Shane, what’s in Paragraph 4?"
Shane didn't blink. "It’s the part Roger seems to have forgotten. We’re going inside now to remind him. We aren't here to apologize. We’re here to hold the league to its own standard."
With that, Shane turned, his hand still locked with Ilya’s. They didn't take another question. They marched up the steps, the heavy brass doors of the MLH Headquarters swinging open for them like they were the ones who held the keys.
***
Monday, 8:55 AM
While they were in the elevator, the internet was in a state of absolute meltdown.
@HockeyInsider_NYC: Did Shane Hollander just drop a legal citation on the steps of the league office? 🤯 I’ve never seen a player look that composed while declaring war. #Section14 #MLH #TheHearing
@Cents_DefensiveZone81: [Photo of the MLH Charter PDF Cover] Caption: Section 14, Paragraph 4: "The League shall maintain a workplace free of hostility and discrimination." 📜🏒 Roger is about to find out that the Co-Captains read the fine print. #Accountability #DangerousCaptain
***
Inside the Boardroom: 9:02 AM
The room was a cavern of mahogany and judgment. Roger Crowell sat at the head of a long table, surrounded by twelve owners and the league’s top legal counsel. The air was frigid, designed to make players feel small.
"Sit down, gentlemen," Crowell said, his voice like dry parchment. He didn't look up from the thick file in front of him. "We are here because you have turned a team rivalry into a PR catastrophe. Your unprofessional conduct has cost this league millions in sponsor confidence."
Shane didn't sit. He walked to the foot of the table, placed his hands flat on the polished wood, and leaned in. The "Steady Anchor" was perfectly still, his eyes locked on Crowell’s.
"Millions?" Shane asked, his voice low and echoing in the high-ceilinged room. "That’s interesting, Roger. Because as I just mentioned to the press outside, Section 14, Paragraph 4 makes the league legally obligated to provide a safe and professional environment. If sponsors are losing confidence, it’s because you failed to provide that for us."
Ilya stepped up beside him, crossing his arms. "And yet," Ilya added, his Russian accent sounding like a low growl, "when the Montreal Voyageurs' group chat leaked, containing two years of targeted harassment, you didn't call a hearing for them. You called it for us. Because we dared to talk back."
"This is about the social media policy!" Crowell snapped, finally looking up, his face reddening. "You are in violation of your contracts!"
"The contracts you're referring to," Shane countered, pulling a slim thumb drive from his pocket and sliding it across the table toward the Commissioner, "are built on the premise of mutual integrity. If you want to talk about 'Conduct Detrimental to the League,' let’s talk about the internal emails on that drive. The ones where your office discussed 'downplaying' the Montreal leak to protect the television deal."
The room went deathly quiet. One of the owners at the far end of the table visibly paled.
"Where did you get that?" Crowell whispered.
"Does it matter?" Shane asked, a cold, predatory smirk finally breaking his mask. "I told you I was the Co-Captain, Roger. I handle the play. And right now? You’re playing shorthanded. You can either drop the 'unprofessional' charges and issue a real suspension for the Voyageurs involved in the leak... or I can walk out those doors and give that thumb drive to The New Yorker.”
***
[TEXT MESSAGE: HARRIS TO SARAH]
Harris [9:15 AM]: I’m standing outside the boardroom. I can’t hear everything, but I just saw a lawyer run out of the room looking like he’s going to be sick.
Sarah [9:16 AM]: Shane found the internal emails?! I thought those were encrypted.
Harris [9:17 AM]: He didn’t find them. He leveraged them. I told you, Sarah... the 'Dangerous Captain' is the biggest menace we’ve ever seen. Ilya is just the muscle. Shane is the mastermind. 😑🙄🏒
***
The air in the boardroom turned to ice as Shane took a slow, deliberate step toward the head of the table. Roger Crowell let out a dry, hollow laugh, leaning back in his leather chair with the smug confidence of a man who thought he held all the cards.
"You’re good, Hollander," Crowell sneered, pushing the thumb drive back toward the center of the table with the tip of a gold pen. "But you’re a Boy Scout. You’ve spent your whole career protecting the 'Standard.' You won’t leak those emails because you know it would burn the whole league down, not just me. You’re bluffing. You’re too 'professional' to be the one who kills the MLH."
Shane didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. He reached out, picked up the drive, and tucked it back into his pocket with a clinical, detached pity.
"You're wrong, Roger," Shane said, his voice a low, terrifyingly steady rasp. "This isn't going to bring the league down. The fans love this game. The players love this game. It’s only going to bring you down. You just committed career suicide. I hope the pension was worth it."
Shane didn't wait for a response. He reached out, grabbed Ilya’s hand, and pulled him toward the door.
***
9:34 AM
Harris was standing by the heavy double doors, his face pale and his tie loosened. When the handles turned and the Co-Captains emerged, he nearly choked.
He saw the look on Shane’s face, a cold, focused granite that signaled a man who had already moved on to the execution phase. Beside him, Ilya was wearing a grin so wide and predatory it was bordering on manic. It was the smile of a man who had finally been given permission to tear the world apart.
"Shane…" Harris started, reaching out a hand.
"Call The New Yorker," Shane said, walking past him without slowing down. "Tell them the drive is on the way."
Harris stood frozen in the hallway for three seconds. "FUCK," he whispered, his voice echoing off the marble.
***
[TEXT MESSAGE: HARRIS TO SARAH]
Harris [9:36 AM]: Here we go. 😑 Crowell didn't think Shane would share the docs with The New Yorker. He called his bluff.
Sarah [9:37 AM]: It was definitely not a bluff.
Harris [9:38 AM]: He’s done, Sarah. Shane is actually doing it. He’s burning the house down to kill the spiders.
Sarah [9:39 AM]: Deep breaths, Harris. Keep your heart steady. We’re in the storm now. Just follow the Co-Captains. ⛈️🏒
***
The Steps of the MLH Headquarters: 9:42 AM
The crowd of reporters surged forward as the glass doors swung open. The noise was a physical wall, but the Co-Captains walked into it like they were stepping onto the ice for a Game 7.
Shane stopped at the top of the steps, raised his and Ilya’s joined hands for every camera to see, and looked directly into the lens of the lead news pool.
"Roger Crowell had his chance to do the right thing," Shane shouted over the roar of the city. "He chose the wrong side. The truth about Montreal, and the league's role in covering it up, will be live on The New Yorker’s website within the hour. No more 'Standard.' No more silence."
The reporters scrambled, but Ilya stepped forward, leaning directly into the cluster of microphones. His blue eyes were lethal, his Russian accent thick and unyielding.
"You can say whatever you want about me," Ilya growled, his voice vibrating through the speakers. "You can call me a menace, you can call me a villain. I do not care. But you do not come for my husband. You do not come for my family. If you try to touch my home, I will bury you. Understood?"
@HockeyInsider_NYC: [BREAKING] Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov have left the league hearing. Hollander confirms he has leaked internal MLH documents to The New Yorker. Rozanov just issued a direct warning to the league. The "Steady Hand" is officially dead. 🤯🔥 #MLH #TheLeak #CoCaptains #Section14
@TheNewYorker: [COMING SOON] The Empty Crease: Inside the MLH’s Hidden Culture of Hostility. By Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov. 🏒🏳️🌈
***
The fallout was swift, surgical, and absolute. Within two hours of The New Yorker article dropping, the MLH servers crashed from the sheer volume of traffic. By sunset, the "Standard" wasn't just broken, it had been dismantled by the very men who had spent a decade upholding it.
The Purge
@MLH_Official: [4:12 PM] The Board of Governors has voted unanimously to terminate the contract of Commissioner Roger Crowell, effective immediately. An interim committee has been formed to oversee the league’s restructuring. 🏒⚖️
@MTL_Voyageurs_News: [4:45 PM] BREAKING: The Montreal Voyageurs have officially revoked the contract of goaltender Miller following the internal evidence of harassment and breach of the league’s Ethics Code. Four other players have been placed on indefinite suspension. 🚫🏒 #Accountability
***
The NYC skyline was beginning to glow with amber light. Shane leaned against the railing of their suite, his suit jacket gone and his shirt sleeves rolled up. For the first time in weeks, the tension in his shoulders had vanished.
Ilya stepped out behind him, resting his chin on Shane’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist. He smelled like expensive cologne and victory.
"Harris just texted," Ilya murmured, his voice a low, peaceful rumble. "He says he is officially not retiring. Sarah convinced him that managing the 'New Era' of the Co-Captains will be better for his legacy than a goat farm."
Shane laughed, a real, light sound that carried over the city noise. He turned in Ilya’s arms, tracing the line of his husband’s jaw. "He’s probably just staying for the book deal. But I’ll take it."
"We did it, Shane," Ilya whispered, his blue eyes softening as they locked onto Shane’s. "No more hiding. No more 'context' excuses. Just us."
"Just us," Shane agreed, leaning in to press a slow, deep kiss to Ilya’s lips, a kiss that wasn't for a camera, a fan, or a PR strategy. It was just for them.
***
9:00 PM
The burner accounts had one last job to do before they went dark for now.
@Cents_DefensiveZone81: Final update: Miller is out. Crowell is gone. The ice is clean. 🧹🏒 My work here is done for now. See you at the parade, Ottawa. 🦴💍 #Centaurs #TheEnd #CoCaptains
@Hollander_HighStick: [Replying to @Cents_DefensiveZone81] Turns out the "Dangerous Captain" was right. It didn't bring the league down. It just let the light in. 🏳️🌈🏒 Signing off. Protect the home. #Accountability #Victory
***
@IlyaRozanov81_official: [Posted a photo of himself and Shane on the hotel balcony, the NYC skyline behind them. No suits, just hoodies, looking exhausted and happy.] Caption: I told you I was a saint. 😇 I just didn't tell you I was the kind that brings the fire. To everyone who stood with us: Thank you. To everyone else: Stay off the tracks. The Co-Captains are just getting started. 🏒💍 #Centaurs #OurHome #NoSilence
@ShaneHollander: [Replying to @IlyaRozanov81_official] I love you, Ilya. Now put your phone away. We have a flight to catch. 💍🏒
@Harris_PR_Cents: [Reply to @ShaneHollander] For the love of god, listen to your husband, Ilya. I’m going to sleep for three days. Don't tweet. 😑🙄
***
The Ottawa airport was freezing, just as it had been when the tour started. But as the private terminal doors opened, there was no pacing Harris and no "three-foot" rule.
There was only a small group of fans holding "Co-Captain" signs and a quiet, snowy night waiting for them. Shane reached out and tangled his fingers with Ilya’s.
"Home?" Ilya asked, flashing that signature, wicked wink, the one that promised a very long, very unprofessional night.
"Home," Shane replied, pulling Ilya close as they walked toward the car.
The "Steady Anchor" and the "Menace" were gone. In their place stood the two most dangerous men in hockey, finally at peace, and entirely, unapologetically themselves.