Summary:

After a big loss against Chicago, Ilya smoked with his teammates to calm down.

Ilya lowered his head and inhaled deeply. The harsh smoke rolled down his throat. He exhaled slowly and watched the gray rings twist in Ottawa’s cold night air. They dispersed until nothing remained.

He should have hated Shane.

The logic was flawless. The causal line was clear. It had been Shane’s plan. Shane had exiled him to this unfamiliar and dull ache of a present.

And yet, no matter how deeply he searched his heart, Ilya found no hatred. He did not find even a trace of it.