Chapter 11 #2
"Okay," she said slowly. "I get it. It's your career. It's important."
"It's everything," I said, gripping the steering wheel. "If I blow this meeting, Maya... if they think I'm Feral... it's over. No draft. No future."
"You're not Feral," she said softly, reaching for my hand.
I pulled away. It was a reflex. I needed to focus. I needed to get back into the mindset of the machine.
"You don't understand," I snapped. "You think love fixes everything. It doesn't. Love doesn't get me drafted. Discipline does."
She recoiled as if I’d slapped her. "Excuse me?"
"I need to focus," I repeated, staring out the rain-streaked windshield. "This weekend... I can't be distracted. I can't be thinking about you. I need to be thinking about hockey."
"So I'm a distraction now?" Her voice was quiet, hurt.
"Yes!" I turned to her, frustration boiling over. "Yes, Maya! You are! You're a massive, beautiful, terrifying distraction! When I'm with you, I don't think about the game. I think about your smell. I think about making you laugh. I soften."
"And that's bad?"
"For a hockey player? Yes! Soft gets you killed. Soft gets you cut."
I ran a hand through my hair. "I just... I need space this weekend. Until the meeting is over. I need to get my head right."
Maya stared at me. Her face was pale. She looked at the dashboard, then back at me.
"Okay," she said. Her voice was steady, but cold. "If that's what you need."
"It is."
"Fine." She reached for the door handle. "Good luck with the meeting, Leo. I hope being a machine makes you happy."
She opened the door and stepped out into the rain. She didn't open her umbrella. She just slammed the door and walked away.
I watched her go.
The Wolf in my head was howling, clawing at the walls of my skull, screaming at me to go after her. Mate! Protect! Don't let her go!
I locked the doors.
"Shut up," I whispered to the beast. "This is for us. This is for the future."
I started the truck and drove away, leaving her walking in the rain.
I felt like garbage. I felt like a coward.
But I told myself it was necessary. I told myself I was protecting our future.
I was an idiot.
Saturday Night.
The restaurant was called The chophouse. Dark wood, white tablecloths, waiters in tuxedos.
I sat across from Marcus Thorne. He was exactly as I pictured him—silver hair, tan skin, eyes like a calculator.
"The steak is excellent here," Thorne said, cutting into his filet. "So, Leo. Let's talk about the elephant in the room. Your father."
I stiffened. "My father hasn't played in twenty years."
"No. But the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. The scouts are worried about genetics, son. They're worried you have the same... instability."
"I am in control," I said, my voice tight. "Always."
"Are you?" Thorne took a sip of wine. "Because I hear rumors. About a girl. A civilian."
My blood ran cold. "Excuse me?"
"Small towns talk, Leo. They say you've been distracted. Spending time in the Music Conservatory. Skipping team functions." Thorne leaned forward. "If you want to make it in this league, you need singular focus. Women... especially civilians... they complicate things. They make you emotional."
"She's not a distraction," I defended, the anger flaring. "She's..."
"She's a liability," Thorne interrupted. "Cut her loose. At least until after the draft. Show the teams you're serious."
I stared at him.
He was asking me to choose. My dream or my heart.
"I..." I hesitated.
Thorne smiled. It was a shark's smile. "Think about it. I'll be in town until Monday. Call me when you've made a decision."
He threw a napkin on the table and stood up. "Dinner's on Titan."
He walked away.
I sat there alone in the fancy restaurant, staring at my uneaten steak.
I felt sick.
My phone buzzed on the table.
Silas: Code Red.
My heart stopped.
Silas: It's Maya. She's at The Hive. But... uh... something's wrong. You need to get here. Now.
I didn't think about the agent. I didn't think about the draft.
I grabbed my keys and ran.
The Hive was quiet when I arrived. Too quiet.
I burst through the front door. "Silas!"
"Kitchen!" Silas yelled.
I ran into the kitchen.
Silas was standing by the island, looking pale. Jax was there too, looking uncharacteristically serious.
And sitting on a stool, wrapped in a blanket, was Maya.
She was shaking. Her skin was grey. She was clutching a mug of tea with both hands, her knuckles white.
"Maya?" I rushed to her. "What happened? Are you hurt?"
She looked up at me. Her eyes were dull, glazed with shock.
"I..." she started, then stopped. Her lip trembled.
"She fainted," Silas said quietly. "At the library. Harper called me because she didn't have your number. We brought her here."
"Fainted?" I put my hand on her forehead. She was cold. Clammy. "Are you sick? Did you eat?"
"I'm not sick," Maya whispered.
She looked at Silas and Jax. "Can you... can you give us a minute?"
Silas nodded, ushering Jax out of the room. "We'll be in the living room."
When they were gone, the silence in the kitchen was deafening.
I knelt in front of her. "Baby, talk to me. You're scaring me."
"I went to the clinic," she said. Her voice was flat. detached. "After you dumped me in the rain."
"I didn't dump you," I argued weakly. "I just asked for space."
"I felt weird," she continued, ignoring me. "Dizzy. Nauseous. I thought it was stress. Or the flu."
She took a shaky breath. She set the mug down. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
She handed it to me.
"It's not the flu," she whispered.
I unfolded the paper. It was a lab report from the campus health center.
My eyes scanned the medical jargon until they landed on the bottom line.
hCG Test: POSITIVE.
Estimated Gestational Age: 2-3 Weeks.
The world stopped. The kitchen dissolved. The only thing that existed was that piece of paper.
Positive.
Pregnant.
"But..." I looked up at her, my brain misfiring. "You said you were on the pill."
"I lied," she whispered, tears spilling over her lashes. "I forgot to renew it. I didn't think... I didn't think one time..."
"Shifter biology," I breathed, the horror setting in. "We're... virile. Especially during the Rut. Especially with a Mate."
I stood up, backing away. I couldn't breathe. The room was spinning.
A baby.
My baby.
With the Feral gene.
"Leo?" Maya asked, her voice cracking. "Say something."
I looked at her. I saw the fear in her eyes. She needed me to be the hero. She needed me to hold her and tell her it would be okay.
But all I could hear was Marcus Thorne's voice. Liability. Loose cannon. Instability.
And my father's voice. The bloodline is cursed, Leo.
I had done the one thing I swore I would never do. I had passed on the curse.
"I..." I choked.
I looked at the paper. I looked at her stomach, still flat, hiding the time bomb I had planted there.
"I have to go," I said.
"What?" Maya stood up, the blanket falling off her shoulders. "Leo, no. Don't you dare walk away."
"I can't be here," I panicked. The Wolf was howling, confused, terrified. "I need air. I need to think."
"If you walk out that door," Maya said, her voice shaking with rage and grief, "don't come back."
I looked at her one last time.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
And I ran.
I ran out of the kitchen. Out of the house. Into the truck.
I drove into the night, leaving my pregnant mate alone in my kitchen, proving everyone right.
I wasn't a hero. I was a coward. And I was exactly like my father.