Chapter 2 Reina
REINA
The NIHL headquarters building was all glass and steel, reflecting the gray morning sky like a mirror. I stood in the parking lot for a solid five minutes, camera bag slung over my shoulder, trying to convince myself to walk through those doors.
You need this job, I reminded myself. You need the money. You need the portfolio piece.
Slowly, I smooth down any fly aways of blonde hair, trying to find some confidence.
You need to stop being such a coward.
I pressed my hand against my hip, checking the suppressant patch one more time. Fresh as of this morning. Two pills already in my system. I was as stable as I was going to get.
The lobby was sleek and modern, with championship banners hanging from the ceiling and glass cases displaying historic hockey memorabilia. A receptionist directed me to the fourteenth floor, where the media operations department took up half the building.
The elevator ride felt like it lasted forever.
When the doors finally opened, I was greeted by organized chaos.
Photographers moved between editing bays and equipment storage, their voices overlapping as they debated lens choices and lighting setups.
The smell of coffee was almost strong enough to cover the faint scent of Alpha and Beta pheromones that permeated every professional space.
Almost.
"You must be Reina!"
I turned to find a woman about my age heading toward me, her smile bright and genuine. She had dark skin, box braids pulled back in a high ponytail, and the kind of energy that made you want to be her friend immediately.
"I'm Shayla," she said, extending her hand. "Head photographer. Welcome to the madhouse."
Her grip was firm and warm. Beta, I realized with relief. No complicated scent dynamics to navigate.
"Thanks," I managed, returning her smile. "I'm excited to be here."
"Liar," she laughed. "You look terrified. Don't worry, everyone does on their first day. Come on, I'll give you the tour."
Shayla led me through the department, introducing me to what felt like fifty people whose names I immediately forgot. The space was impressive, state-of-the-art editing stations and equipment that made my personal gear look like toys.
"So," Shayla said as we grabbed coffee from the break room, "where are you living?"
"North side. Parkview Apartments, actually."
Her eyes widened. "No way. I'm in that building too. Fourth floor."
"Sixth," I said, surprised. "Small world."
"Tiny world," she grinned. "Okay, new plan. Tonight, after work, you're coming out for drinks with me and a few of the other photographers. No arguments. You need to meet people who aren't your neighbor's cat."
Despite everything, I laughed. "Deal."
Shayla's expression softened slightly. "I know it's overwhelming. New city, new job. But you're good, Reina. I've seen your portfolio. You wouldn't be here if you weren't."
The words settled something in my chest that had been twisted tight since the airport. There was no need to really go into details about how Winter Crest wasn’t a new city…
"Thanks," I said quietly. "I needed to hear that."
"Anytime." She checked her watch. "Alright, let's get you your first assignment."
We headed back to her office, where she pulled up a scheduling interface on her computer. My stomach twisted as I watched her scroll through the day's coverage needs.
Please not the Frost Kings. And please, for the love of all that is fucking holy, not the Steel Wolves.
"Perfect," Shayla said, clicking on something. "The Frost Kings are in the training rink today. Captain's optional practice, so it'll be pretty low-key. Great way to ease into things."
The coffee in my stomach turned to acid.
"The Frost Kings," I repeated, trying to keep my voice level.
"Yeah, Captain Vale runs these optional sessions a few times a week. Super professional, great for shots." She glanced at me. "You okay? You just went pale."
"I'm fine," I lied. "Just, caffeine hit wrong."
Shayla didn't look convinced but she let it slide. "Training rink is connected to another part of the building we call The Pit. I'll walk you over, introduce you to their media liaison."
Twenty minutes later, I was standing rink side with a 400mm lens and a prayer that Luca Vale wouldn't show up to his own optional practice.
The prayer went unanswered.
He skated onto the ice with five other players, and even from across the rink, I knew it was him.
The way he moved, efficient and controlled.
The way the other players naturally deferred to his space.
Twelve years had changed him, added muscle and height and an edge of authority that hadn't been there before.
But I would have known him anywhere.
I lifted my camera, focusing on the group as they ran drills. Through the viewfinder, I could pretend this was just another assignment. That this was just another team. That this was just another captain who meant nothing to me.
Then Luca turned those blue eyes on me and suddenly I couldn’t swallow air.
He froze mid-stride, nearly causing a collision with the player behind him. Even from this distance, I watched his entire body go rigid. His head tilted slightly, nostrils flaring.
He was scenting me.
Oh God…
My suppressants were fresh. Weren’t they? They were working. Weren’t they? There I was still frozen in place, trying to remember if everything was in working order.
He couldn't possibly...
But Luca's eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my knees weak. His grip tightened on his stick, knuckles going white. One of his teammates called his name but he didn't respond, didn't move, just stared at me like I was a ghost he couldn't quite believe was real.
My Omega instincts flared to life without warning.
Heat pulsed through my body, sharp and sudden. My camera slipped in my grip. The scent that had been carefully suppressed for twelve years pressed against the edges of my control, trying desperately to break free.
Goddamn it, no here, and not now, I thought.
I lowered my camera and turned, heading for the exit with quick, purposeful steps that probably looked like running because that's exactly what I was doing.
"Reina!"
His voice carried across the ice, rough and commanding. The sound of it sent shivers down my spine and made my body respond in ways I'd trained myself to ignore.
I pushed through the door into the corridor, my breath coming faster. Behind me, I heard the slam of the rink door, the sound of skates being kicked off.
He was following me.
My legs carried me down the hallway on instinct, trying to put distance between us. But Luca was faster, always had been, and within seconds I felt his presence behind me.
"Reina, stop."
It wasn't a request.
I stopped, hating myself for it. Hating that some part of me still responded to the command in his voice.
Slowly, I turned to face him.
Luca stood ten feet away, chest heaving, still wearing his practice gear. His dark hair was damp with sweat, his jaw tight. Those ice-blue eyes I remembered were fixed on me with an intensity that felt physical.
"It's you," he said, and his voice cracked slightly on the words. "It's really you."
"Luca," I managed, trying to keep my own voice steady. "I can explain..."
"Explain?" Something dangerous flashed across his face. "You disappeared. Twelve years, Reina. Twelve fucking years and not a single word."
A million little excuses died on my tongue. "I couldn't..."
"Couldn't what?" He took a step closer and I backed up instinctively, my shoulders hitting the wall. "Couldn't send a text? Couldn't let us know you were alive? Do you have any idea what that did to us?"
Us.
The word hung between us like a blade.
"I had to leave," I said, my hands curling into fists. "You know why I had to leave."
"Because of the incident." His jaw ticked. "Because of what happened in the locker room."
"Because of what I caused," I corrected, heat rising in my voice. "Because my scent turned a dozen Alphas feral. Because you and Jaxon nearly killed each other. Because..."
His eyes softened a bit. "Because you thought it was your fault."
The quiet certainty in his words stopped me cold.
Luca took another step closer. Now he was only a few feet away, close enough that I could smell him. Cold cedar and clean ice and something underneath that was purely him. The scent hit my system like a drug, making my suppressants waver.
"It wasn't your fault," he said, his voice dropping lower. "It was never your fault, Reina."
"You don't understand," I whispered, pressing harder against the wall. "My scent, it's Category Red. It makes Alphas..."
"I know what it does." His eyes tracked over my face like he was memorizing every detail. "I remember."
The heat building in my core was getting harder to ignore. My suppressants were slipping, I could feel them failing under the weight of his proximity. Under the weight of twelve years of separation and a bond that had never been properly severed.
"Luca, you need to step back."
"Why?" He moved closer, invading my space completely. "What are you afraid of?"
"I'm afraid..." My voice caught as another wave of heat rolled through me. "I'm afraid of what happens when I lose control."
His hand came up, bracing against the wall beside my head. Not touching me, but caging me in. His scent was everywhere now, wrapping around me like smoke.
"Maybe," he said, his voice rough and low, "you need to stop trying so hard to stay in control."
My scent spiked.
I watched it hit him in real time. Watched his pupils dilate and his breathing change. Watched his carefully maintained control start to fracture at the edges.
"Fuck," he breathed, and there was something almost reverent in the word. "Your scent..."
"Luca." I pressed my hands against his chest, trying to push him away even though every instinct was screaming at me to pull him closer. "This is exactly what I was afraid of. This is why I left."
"This is why you should have stayed."
His head dipped, his nose tracing along my neck where my scent was strongest. Not touching, just breathing me in. The sensation sent electricity racing down my spine.
I was losing this battle. Losing it fast.
With the last shred of control I had, I shoved him. Hard.
Luca stumbled back, surprise flickering across his face.
"No," I said, my voice shaking. "I'm not doing this. Not here. Not like this."
"Reina..."
"I have a job to do," I continued, straightening my spine even though my legs felt like water. "And you have practice. So we're both going to walk away and pretend this didn't happen."
"Like hell..."
"Luca." I met his eyes, letting him see every ounce of fear and determination I had. "Please."
Something in my expression must have reached him because he stopped, his hands curling into fists at his sides. His jaw worked like he was physically fighting himself.
Finally, he stepped back.
"This isn't over," he said quietly.
"I know."
He held my gaze for another long moment, then turned and walked back toward the training rink. I watched him go, my heart hammering against my ribs.
The second he was out of sight, my knees gave out.
I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor, my camera bag forgotten beside me. My hands were shaking. My suppressants were still failing, my scent leaking out in waves I couldn't control.
This had been a shit show just like I’d been afraid of.
An impossible fucking shit show.
And somehow, I had to fucking survive it just like I always did.