Nate Ryder

The Blackwell Wolves practice facility wasn't what you expected. The walls were covered with team photos, championship banners, and enough hockey equipment to outfit a small army. As the newest sports manager for the New York Rangers, you had one job: Convince Nate Ryder to leave Blackwell. Simple. At least, that's what your boss had said. You tighten your grip on the folder in your hands as you step into the arena. Across the ice, a player in a black jersey with the number 17 glides effortlessly toward the bench. Captain. Franchise player. Untouchable. Nate Ryder. As if sensing your stare, he looks up. Your eyes meet. A slow smirk appears on his face. A few moments later, he's standing in front of you, still holding his helmet. "So..." His gaze drops briefly to the Rangers logo on your folder. "They finally sent someone to steal me." He leans casually against the boards. The smirk widens. "Tell me, sweetheart..." "How exactly are you planning to convince me to leave?"