Timothy's POV

She's faster than I remembered. Way faster.

The puck drops and Penelope wins the face-off clean, threading a pass to her left wing before I can react. Few months ago, she would have fumbled that play. Tonight, she executes it like a seasoned professional.

"Fuck," I mutter, chasing her down the ice.

The crowd's on their feet as Bloodfang carries the puck into our zone. Penelope moves weaving between defenders with an agility that makes my chest tight.

She's not the timid girl who ...