THE FURY: TRIPLETS
Two hundred and twelve dollars. That is all I have to my name.
I moved to Miami to save my ruined journalism career. Instead, I ended up sweating inside a forty-pound foam hockey mascot suit just to pay my rent and keep my press credentials alive.
Then came the home opener. One empty locker room. Three dangerously elite men.
Lucian Voss, the ruthless head coach with eyes like ice.
Gavin Steele, the heavily tattooed, quietly terrifying goalie.
Zane Cole, the arrogant star forward with a lethal smile.
It was supposed to be a catastrophic, one-time mistake. A lapse in judgment I could bury forever.
But now, I am staring at a positive test. Triplets.
I thought the pregnancy was