14. Maverick
Chapter 14
T he softest whimpers I have ever heard break the silence of the night, and it takes a moment for my sleep-fogged brain to realize it's coming from Anya. She's curled up between Leo and me in her nest. Jenson, who's on Leo's other side, stirs as well. This nest of hers is huge, taking up most of the space in her bedroom, but I don't mind. We all fit on it pretty comfortably, and it's become a nightly routine for us to all pile in here, surrounding her with our presence.
"Nightmare," Leo mumbles, his voice thick with sleep, already reaching for her.
He's right. Her whimpers turn into soft cries, and her body starts to thrash. My inner alpha whines, wanting to soothe her, to protect her from whatever demons are haunting her sleep.
Ours. Must protect. Keep safe.
"Anya, sweetheart, wake up." I gently shake her shoulder.
Her eyes fly open, wide and panicked, and she scrambles backward, away from us, until she hits the wall at the head of the bed. Her chest heaves, and she gasps for breath, her eyes darting around the room as if she doesn't recognize where she is.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Jenson says, his voice calm and reassuring, shifting to try and get closer without crowding her. He scoots over as much as he can on Leo's far side. "You're safe. It was just a dream."
Leo and I sit up, careful not to crowd her. We move slowly, giving her space, letting her realize where she is and who she's with.
Safe with us, my inner alpha insists.
"You're with us, Anya. You're safe," I repeat, keeping my voice low, trying to project calm, to be the anchor she needs right now.
It takes a few minutes, but eventually, her breathing starts to even out, and the fear in her eyes recedes. She looks at us, really looks at us, and recognition dawns. The tension slowly starts to leave her small frame.
She buries her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. My heart aches for her. I want to pull her into my arms, to hold her close and never let go, but I know better. We have to go at her pace. This isn't the first time she's had a nightmare, but it never gets easier to see her like this.
Leo scoots closer, and reaches out a hand, hovering it near her shoulder. She doesn't flinch away, so he rests his hand on her, a silent offer of comfort. His touch seems to ground her.
After a few more minutes, she lowers her hands, her eyes red and swollen. She looks so lost, so vulnerable, that it takes all my willpower not to scoop her up and carry her away from whatever is causing her so much pain.
She reaches for her phone on the nightstand, her hand trembling. She types something, then turns the phone to us. The text-to-speech app, a robotic female voice, fills the quiet room.
"It was a nightmare. About them. The alpha pack that did this to me." She motions to her neck.
My gut clenches. We know, generally, what happened to her. But we don't know the details. And we haven't pushed her to talk about it. It's her story to tell, when and if she's ready.
Leo's hand tightens on her shoulder, his voice soft yet firm. "Do you want to talk about it, sweetheart?"
She hesitates and types again, her fingers flying across the screen, fast and urgent, as if the words can't come fast enough.
"They said they wanted to court me. To bond with me, properly. I was so alone then. Foster care was...hard. My parents died when I was young, in a car accident. My grandparents were too old to take care of me. The alphas promised they would be my family, that they would take care of me, no matter what. They said it didn't matter that we weren't compatible. They seemed so nice, at first."
The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken pain. My inner alpha growls, a low, menacing sound, the urge to hunt down those bastards almost overwhelming.
Ours. Hurt. Punish.
I clench my fists, trying to control the rage.
She continues typing, her face pale, her lower lip quivers. The light from the phone illuminates the tears that are now freely falling down her cheeks.
"They tried to kill me. They cut my throat. I played dead, and they dumped me in some alley. A homeless woman found me and got me help. They went to prison because of her, because I survived. I testified against them in court."
The details, even so brief, are brutal. I can't imagine the terror she must have felt, the betrayal. Never again. We protect, my inner alpha vows, and I echo the sentiment in my heart.
Jenson, who's been quiet until now, speaks up, his voice rough with anger. "They're still in prison, right? They can't hurt you anymore."
She nods, then types again, her fingers moving slower this time, as if the energy is draining out of her.
"The leader, Luis Salama, he's getting executed soon. The two others, Gent and Luvo, they have appeals coming up."
"Appeals?" I repeat, a cold dread spreading through me. "When did you find out about this?"
We'll kill them! My inner alpha is on high alert, ready to defend our omega at any cost.
She types more.
"I got an email about it. The day you found me outside crying. I couldn't read it all, I panicked."
I swallow hard. "Do you want me to read it for you? So you know what's going on?"
She hesitates, her eyes flickering with fear, then nods. Her fingers tap around the screen before she holds her phone out to me.
I take the phone, my fingers brushing hers, and start to read. It's from a detective, the lead on her case, apparently. My eyes scan the text, my heart sinking with each word.
"It says here," I begin, my voice low, "that the leader, Luis Salama, his execution date is set for July 24th."
Anya flinches. Leo pulls her closer, wrapping his arm around her. She leans into him, seeking his comfort. My inner alpha approves.
Good. Pack comforts.
Jenson scoots over to rub her back from his spot beside Leo.
"The other two, Gent and Luvo," I continue, "they have appeals coming up, but the detective says here that he's certain they'll be denied. He says you don't have to worry about taking the stand again."
I look up at her, gauging her reaction. She's pale, her eyes wide, but she nods slowly, as if absorbing the information.
"He says there's no obligation for you to be there, at the execution," I add, "but he wanted to let you know, so you could have some peace of mind."
She closes her eyes for a moment, her body sagging with a mixture of relief and exhaustion.
"Do you...do you want to go?" I ask, the question hesitant. "To the execution? We could go with you. As your mates."
It feels strange, saying those words out loud. We haven't officially declared anything, but it's the truth. We're her mates, her pack, and we'll do whatever it takes to protect her, to help her heal.
Ours.
She opens her eyes and looks at me, her gaze searching. She takes back her phone. "Maybe. I think it might give me closure," the robotic voice says.
Jenson hums. "We'll be right there with you, Princess. We support you either way."
Leo nods. "Always, sweetheart."
She gives us a small, watery smile. It's the most genuine smile I've seen from her since we found her, and it makes my heart ache even more.
I reach out and grasp her hand. "We'll protect you, Anya. No matter what. Those bastards will never hurt you again." Never, my inner alpha agrees, a fierce, protective surge.
She leans forward and buries her face in my shoulder, her body shaking with silent sobs. I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight, letting her know that she's not alone anymore. Leo and Jenson join in, surrounding her with their warmth and strength. We stay like that for a long time, a silent promise passing between us. Protect. Always. Forever.
Eventually, her sobs subside, and she pulls back, wiping her eyes. She looks exhausted, drained, but there's a new spark of determination in her eyes.
She types on her phone again, her fingers moving with a newfound purpose.
"Thank you. I'm really glad you're my pack."
The words, spoken by the robotic voice, send a thrill through me. My pack. She's accepting us. My inner alpha purrs in contentment, a deep rumble in my chest.
We stay like that for the rest of the night, holding her, comforting her, letting her know that she's safe, that she's loved. My inner alpha is still restless, still on edge, but it's quieter now, soothed by her presence, by the knowledge that she's here, with us, where she belongs.
It's going to take time, a lot of time, for her to heal from the trauma she's endured. But we'll be here, every step of the way. We'll be her strength, her comfort, her protectors. We'll be her pack.
It's been a whole month since we officially started courting Anya. A month of movie nights, of gentle touches, of learning her likes and dislikes, of building trust.
And now, here we are, at the arena, ready to face off against the Bears. It's a big game, one that could bring us closer to the playoffs. The energy in the building is electric, the stands packed with screaming fans. But my focus is split. Part of me is hyped for the game, ready to hit the ice, but another part is focused on the bench, where Anya's sitting, watching us with wide, curious eyes.
We decided against putting her in a private box tonight. She wants to be closer to the action, to experience a real game, and we want her close, where we can keep an eye on her. So, she's sitting on a folded chair next to the bench. It's a different kind of thrill, having her here, witnessing the game we love.
The ref blows the whistle, signaling the face-off. The puck drops, and the game begins. The Bears win the initial face-off, gaining possession. It's a brutal match-up, fast and physical. The Bears are a tough team, known for their aggressive play. They're not afraid to throw their weight around, and within minutes, the first fight breaks out. Rhys, always ready to defend his teammates, drops his gloves and goes at it with a big Bears defenseman. They exchange blows, their fists flying. The crowd roars, a mix of cheers and boos.
I glance over at Anya. She's watching the fight, her expression unreadable. I hope it's not too much for her. We've explained that fights happen sometimes, that it's part of the game, but it's different seeing it up close.
The refs break up the fight, sending both Rhys and the Bears player to the penalty box. The game resumes, the tension on the ice thick enough to cut with a knife.
We're down by one in the first period, and my frustration is building. We need to turn this around. My inner alpha is restless, pacing.
Win. For her.
I take a deep breath, trying to focus. We get a power play, a chance to even the score. Jenson passes me the puck, and I see an opening. I skate hard, dodging a check from a Bears player, and fire a shot. It goes in! The crowd erupts, and I raise my stick in the air, a surge of adrenaline coursing through me.
We're tied. Game on.
The second period is a back-and-forth battle. Both teams are playing hard, determined to win. Leo takes a nasty hit, sending him sprawling to the ice. My inner alpha snarls, wanting to retaliate, but I hold back. We need to keep our heads in the game.
Leo gets up, shakes it off, and gets back in the play. He's tough, my pack brother. We all are. We have to be.
Later in the period, I get another chance. I steal the puck from a Bears player, skate down the ice, and fake out the goalie, sending the puck into the back of the net. Another goal! The crowd goes wild, chanting my name.
I spot Anya in her chair, clapping and smiling. My heart swells. For her, my inner alpha purrs.
The third period is even more intense. The score is tied, and both teams are fighting for every inch of ice. The clock ticks down, and the tension is palpable. Every check, every shot, every save is crucial. We are so close to winning, I can taste it.
Then, with less than two minutes left, Jenson gets called for a penalty. A questionable call, in my opinion, but the refs are sticking to it. We're shorthanded.
My inner alpha is furious. Not fair. We need to win. But I know we can't lose our cool. We have to play smart.
The Bears are pressing hard, trying to capitalize on the power play. They're firing shot after shot at Finn, but he's holding strong, making save after save. He's playing like a beast tonight.
I glance over at Anya, and see her biting her lip, her brow furrowed with worry. I give her a quick nod, trying to reassure her. We've got this.
With seconds left on the penalty kill, I see my chance. I intercept a pass, a risky move, but it pays off. I'm on a breakaway.
It's just me and the goalie. I skate towards him, my heart pounding. I deke left, then right, and fire a shot.
Time seems to slow down as the puck sails through the air. It hits the back of the net.
The buzzer sounds.
We won!
The crowd goes insane, the noise deafening. My teammates mob me, screaming and cheering. I can barely hear myself think. I did it. I got a hat trick.
But the only thing I really care about is getting back to Anya.
I scan the bench area and spot her, still smiling, her eyes shining with excitement. I make my way over. "Hey," I say, my voice a little hoarse. "You were amazing, cheering us on. Our lucky charm."
She blushes and ducks her head, but she still smiles. She signs, "Thank you. You played so well."
"We won it for you." I want to stay here, just basking in her presence, but I know the guys are waiting, and there's the post-game protocol to get through. "Listen," I say, "I need to head to the locker room. But if you come with me, I can get you somewhere safe, away from the crowd."
I take hold of her hand, the contact sending a jolt through me, and lead her down to the Hall for our dressing room and everything else. She hesitates for a moment, as we draw near, her eyes darting around at the fans who press in closer near the Hall entrance. Some are calling my name, holding up jerseys and pucks for me to sign. I whistle sharply, and motion for Jenson and Leo to come over. It'll take all three of us to get through this crowd.
Jenson and Leo quickly join us, their eyes widening when they see the throng of fans. We form a protective barrier around Anya, shielding her from the worst of the crowd.
"Alright, everyone," I say, raising my voice to be heard. "I'll be right back out to sign autographs and take pictures. Just need to make sure my friend here is okay first."
A few groans of disappointment, but most of the fans seem to understand. With Leo and Jenson clearing a path, we slowly make our way through the excited crowd, their hands and voices reaching for us. I keep a firm grip on Anya's hand, my inner alpha soothed by her closeness.
Ours. Safe.
We finally reach the relative quiet of the players' tunnel. We lead Anya to a small, private room near the locker rooms— the family room. It's where players' families and friends can wait during and after games.
"You okay?" I ask, once we're inside.
She nods, and signs, "Thank you. It's a bit much out there."
"Yeah, it can get crazy after a game," I agree. "You're safe in here, though. No one will bother you."
I gesture around the room. It's small, but comfortable, with a couple of couches, a TV, and a small table with some snacks and drinks.
"Just text one of us if you need anything, okay?" I say.
She nods, a small smile playing on her lips. She signs, "Go. Have fun."
I chuckle. "We'll try."
We each give her a kiss and then leave to head back to the fans and the chaos.
After the media interviews, which are mostly a blur of questions about the hat trick, we finally escape the press room. Leo, Jenson, and I practically sprint towards the family room, eager to get back to Anya.
As we approach, we hear voices. One, we recognize as Anya's robotic text-to-speech, but the other is male, unfamiliar, and unwelcome. My inner alpha bristles, a low rumbling growl enters my chest.
We push open the door. Anya sees us, but he doesn't.
A man, tall and slim, with slicked-back hair and a predatory smirk, stands over Anya, his body language aggressive. He holds out his phone as it records, clearly a journalist who's managed to sneak in here.
"...just a few questions, love." His voice drips with false charm. "About the Salama case. It's a big story, you know. Ten-year anniversary just passed. People want to know how you're doing. And, of course, about your relationship with the Gold Trio. Quite the catch for a little omega like you, isn't it?"
She gives us a look to wait before she types on her phone. It takes everything in me not to grab him by the back of his neck and slam his head through the wall.
Anya's robotic voice replies, "I have no comment on the Salama case. As for my relationship with the Gold Trio, I am very happy with my mates. I would appreciate it if you would respect my privacy and leave me alone now."
The man chuckles, a condescending sound that makes my blood boil. "Come on, sweetheart, don't be like that. Just a few questions. It'll be good for your mates' image, too. Show they're taking care of a survivor-"
"She said," Leo's voice cuts through the room like a whip, sharp and dangerous, "to leave her alone."
The journalist turns, startled, and takes in the sight of the three of us, our faces hard, our eyes blazing. He pales, but tries to maintain his arrogant facade.
"Just doing my job, boys," he says, holding up his phone, a flimsy shield. "Public interest and all that."
"Her well-being is our priority, not your story," Jenson growls, stepping forward, his fists clenched, his large frame radiating menace.
"Get out," I say, my voice low and dangerous. "Before we have security escort you out. And if you ever bother her again, you'll have to deal with us. And trust me, you don't want that."
The journalist's eyes flicker with a hint of fear, and he finally backs down, muttering something about "overprotective alphas" under his breath. He practically scurries out of the room, and we're instantly at Anya's side.
She's shaking, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white.
Jenson crouches down beside her, his hand coming to rest on her arm. "Hey, it's okay," he says softly. "He's gone. You're safe, Princess."
Leo perches on the arm of the couch to her right and places his hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"
She nods, but her eyes are wide and frightened, and tears well up in the corners.
I kneel before her, taking her hand in mine, my thumb rubbing soothing circles on her skin. "We're here, Anya. We won't let anyone hurt you."
She looks up at us, her gaze searching, and then she types on her phone, her fingers trembling.
"Thank you. For defending me," the robotic voice says.
"Always." I squeeze her hand, my heart aching for what she's been through.
Leo and Jenson nod, their faces mirroring my own fierce protectiveness.
"We'll defend you for life, sweetheart," Leo adds, his voice thick with emotion, his gaze intense.
"Always and forever." Jenson takes her other hand.
She looks at each of us, then her hand leaves mine and goes to her covered throat. She looks so incredibly vulnerable right now.
She types on her phone again, before she hits play.
"When we get home, I want to bond. I want you to replace the marks on my neck. I don't want to see them anymore."
My breath catches in my throat. This is it. What we've been waiting for, hoping for. She's ready.
"Are you sure, Anya?" My voice is husky.
She nods and a questioning look enters her eyes as she motions to us.
"We're sure," Leo says, speaking for all of us, his voice unwavering.
Jenson nods, his green eyed gaze intense. "More than anything."
A small, watery smile graces her lips. And in that moment, I know that we've finally broken through the walls she's built around herself. We're her pack. Her protectors. Her mates. And we'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe, to make her happy, to give her the life she deserves, a life free from fear. The life that was almost stolen from her. It is time she has a pack to rely on, and we will make sure she knows we are there for her, always.