Chapter 9 – THANE #2
"Management can kiss my ass!" Coach spits. "I've got a reporter from Blade Magazine coming to evaluate our lines, see how we work together as a team. How the hell am I supposed to show that when our biggest power forward isn't even here?"
I resist the urge to point out that Wraith's absence might actually make the journalist more comfortable. Instead, I keep my voice level. "Have the non-core players run defense drills. Show us our depth."
"People want to see the Ghosts, Belmont!
The core! The four horsemen of the fucking apocalypse.
They want to see the chemistry between you, Plague, Whiskey, and Wraith.
You want me to show one of the biggest names in sports journalism our 'depth' by running drills without the player that stands out the most the moment he steps onto the fucking ice?
The day before we debut our new winger? A new player you'll be meeting pretty damn soon, by the way. "
He's not wrong about that. The timing couldn't be worse. Valek's incoming arrival is already causing ripples throughout the league. Having Wraith disappear right before he shows up sends all kinds of messages we don't need right now. Especially if he's not here for tomorrow's press conference.
"If Wraith doesn't show up for practice," Coach continues, jabbing a finger into my chest, "he's benched for the next game. I don't care how good he is or how much the fans love his feral monster act. No one is bigger than the team. Not even your foster brother."
Each of Coach's words stokes the burning flames of rage building in my chest.
"My brother." The words come out as a low growl, my lip curling and control slipping. "Not my 'foster' brother."
Coach takes a half-step back, some buried instinct finally warning him that he's pushed too far. But he recovers quickly, puffing up his chest like he's trying to match my size. "You know what I mean. The mask. The growling. It's great for marketing, gets the crowd going—"
"Stop."
My alpha bark cuts through the air like a blade. Coach may be an alpha himself, but his mouth still snaps shut, his eyes widening slightly as he registers the dangerous edge in my voice.
I take a step forward, using every inch of my height to loom over him. "You don't know what you're talking about. You have no idea what my brother has been through, what he deals with every single day. So don't you dare stand there and reduce his pain to some kind of marketing gimmick."
"Now listen here—" Coach starts, but I'm not finished.
"No, you listen." Another step forward. Coach's back hits the wall.
"Wraith isn't here because he needs space.
Because something triggered him badly enough that he had to disappear for a while.
And you know what? I support that decision.
Because the alternative is him showing up and potentially losing control during practice.
Is that what you want? I'm sure that would look fucking great in the magazine. "
Coach's face has gone from red to slightly pale and chalky. Good. Maybe some of this is finally getting through his thick skull.
"He's not a performing circus animal here for your entertainment," I continue, my voice dropping even lower.
"He's a person. A member of my pack. My brother.
And if you ever—ever—refer to him as a monster again, even in a creative way, we're going to have a very different kind of conversation.
One that ends with you looking for a new job. Are we clear?"
The threat hangs in the air between us, heavy and unmistakable. Coach swallows hard, some of his bravado finally cracking. "I didn't mean—"
"ARE. WE. CLEAR?"
He nods jerkily, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Crystal."
"Good." I step back, giving him room to breathe again. "Now. I suggest you focus on getting the rink ready for practice. I'll handle the team."
Coach practically bolts, his shoes squeaking against the polished floor as he hurries away. I watch him go, the rage still simmering just beneath my skin. Part of me wants to follow, to make absolutely sure he understands the gravity of his mistake.
But I can't.
I have to be better than that.
With a frustrated growl, I turn and punch the nearest wall. The impact sends shockwaves up my arm, pain blooming in my knuckles. But it helps. Gives me something to focus on besides the red haze of anger clouding my vision.
Deep breaths, Thane. Get it together.
I lean my forehead against the cool concrete, trying to center myself.
Images flash through my mind unbidden. Wraith's first night in our home, curled up like a wounded wild animal in a basement closet he didn't fit in even as a boy.
The way he flinched every time someone moved too quickly.
The nightmares that had him clawing at his own face until we had to restrain him.
The day I finally learned the truth about what had happened to his face. What his stepfather had done. How I wanted to hunt him down and make him suffer the way he made my new brother suffer. My fury when the real monster was locked away in prison instead.
Safe from me.
Until he gets out, at least.
My hand throbs, and I realize I've punched the wall again without meaning to. Fuck. I check over my knuckles. They're already starting to swell.
Plague is going to give me hell for this later.
Deep down, I can't help but feel like there's more to my current state than just Coach mouthing off. We're all on a hair trigger lately. Me, Wraith, Whiskey… even Plague's not quite his usual disaffected self.
Is it Valek's impending arrival?
That might be part of it, but it still doesn't feel right. More like our world has shifted on its axis, and none of us knows why.
But we all feel it.