Chapter 4 Remi
I'm still limping.
Not badly enough that anyone outside the rink would notice, but enough that every time I push off for a jump, my knee reminds me exactly how fucked I am.
Dr. Peters was useless. He ran tests, asked invasive questions about my heat cycle. Or lack thereof. And then went on to tell me what I already knew: my body is rejecting the suppressants. My hormone levels are wild. I'm a walking chemistry experiment gone wrong, and there's no quick fix.
"You need to stop taking the suppressants," he'd said, removing his glasses. "Let your body have a natural heat. It's the only way to reset your system."
"I have the Olympics in less than two weeks," I replied flatly.
He'd just shrugged. "Then you'll have to manage."
Manage. Right.
I'm back on the ice, trying to land a triple axel and pulling out of the rotation early, touching down on a double and feeling every centimeter of the shortfall in my knee. Nikki watches from the boards, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
She's stopped yelling.
That's somehow worse.
I land the double, which was a miracle considering my knee buckled on the touchdown. Only just though. I have to catch myself before I go down.
"Off the ice," Nikki calls.
I don't argue. I skate over, stiff, and sink onto the bench beside her.
"This isn't working," she whispers.
"I know." I press my palms against my thighs. "I know, Nikki. I just... I don't know what to do."
She's silent for a moment, then pulls out her phone. "I'm calling my sister."
I blink. "Marilyn?"
"She's dealing with the same problem on her hockey team," Nikki says, scrolling through her contacts. "Alphas who need stability. Players whose performance is lacking because they're too wound up and aggressive without omegas around to balance them out."
"What does that have to do with me?"
Nikki looks at me as if I'm being deliberately obtuse. "Remi. You're an omega. Your body is screaming for alpha interaction. Maybe all you need is to be around some alphas for a while. Not forever. Just... enough to stabilize your hormones."
"You want me to live with alphas?"
"No, we don't have time for that. I want her advice.
Maybe, just one night…" She inhales sharply.
So do I. "I want you to stop limping around my rink like a wounded animal," she snaps.
Then she softens. "Look, I don't know if it'll work.
But Marilyn's been talking about it for months.
The science is there. Omegas and alphas balance each other. It's biology."
Before I can respond, she's already walking away, phone pressed to her ear.
I slump back against the boards.
Live with alphas.
Insane. And yet a small, traitorous part of me wonders if maybe, just maybe, it's exactly what I need.
Movement catches my eye. Isabella glides onto the ice, ponytail swinging. She's smiling.
Isabella doesn't smile unless she's up to something.
"Rough morning?" she asks, skating over.
"Something like that."
She sits beside me, unlacing her skates. "Still taking those suppressants?"
"Still none of your business."
"Mmm." She glances toward Nikki, who's still on the phone. "Your coach is smart. Alphas do help. Though I'm surprised she's suggesting you have the time to spend one night with an alpha. Not with your schedule."
I frown. "How do you know?"
"I can hear, Remi." She rolls her eyes. "This place isn't exactly soundproof."
"I couldn't. My brother would kill me and him," I snap.
"Your brother isn't here."
"That doesn't matter." I shake my head. "I also don't have the time, as you've just pointed out. Unless you're trying to get me to lose any chance of a medal on purpose."
"I'm trying to help you." Isabella rolls her eyes. "If you want a chance at beating me, you still need to do something, Remi. You're running out of time."
"I know," I mutter.
She's quiet for a moment, her gaze flicking toward Nikki again. Then she reaches into her gym bag and pulls out a small black card.
"What's that?" I ask.
Isabella holds it out. "Insurance."
I take it reluctantly. Matte black, expensive, a single line of silver text embossed on the surface.
Where masks are worn and desires run free.
"What is this?" I turn it over. An address on the back. No phone number.
"The best place to let off steam," Isabella says, her voice dropping. "No one knows who you are. Everyone wears masks. No cameras. No press. Just you and whatever, or whoever, you need."
"Isabella, what the hell is this?"
"I told you that you need to be fucked." She says it the way someone else might say you need more iron in your diet. "This is your chance to stop pretending you're something you're not. Give your body what it's been begging for. And actually beat me at the Olympics."
"I don't know."
"You don't have to decide now." She stands, slipping her skates back on. "But if you change your mind, flip the card over. There's a number on the back. All you have to do is hold it up to the light and give that number to the door staff for entry."
I tilt the card. Faint silver numbers appear; it's barely visible unless you're looking.
"What is this place?" I ask, turning the card over in my hand.
Isabella smiles. "Somewhere you can stop being Remi Silver, Olympic hopeful. And just be... you. An omega."
She skates off before I can ask anything else, leaving me with the card burning in my hand.
Nikki returns minutes later, her expression a little more optimistic.
"Good news," she says. "Marilyn's on board. She has a single alpha who would be willing for you to stay for one night."
"Nikki!"
"It will be professional, Remi. Alphas know what they're doing. And honestly? I wish I'd thought of it before now. I'm worried about you. I'd hate for you to withdraw."
Withdraw.
I've worked my entire life for this. Sacrificed everything. My childhood. My friendships. My parents would've been so proud to watch me compete. Mom was the reason I first put on those skates, when Dad took River to the ice and she wanted me to have the same.
And now I'm supposed to just give up?
"I'll think about it," I say finally.
Nikki nods. "That's all I'm asking. But we could organize it for one night next week."
She leaves me alone.
I look down at the black card.
Where masks are worn and desires run free.
Safe hasn't gotten me anywhere.
I slip the card into my pocket and stand, ignoring the feeling of a needle that is inside my knee.
Two weeks until the Olympics.