Chapter 10
Knox
My skates carved shallow lines across the ice that seemed like glass beneath my feet.
Every single sound in the arena sounded sharp to the point even the crowd’s roar felt as if it was shredding my skin. The thwack of stick hitting against each other in a battle for the puck had me practically flinching.
She was back at the hotel per the general manager, Richard’s orders. Said it would be "better for everyone" if she sat this game out.
Better for everyone except me.
"Maddox! Get your head in the game!" Sullivan barked from the bench.
Right. The game. Colorado up by two, second period half gone, and I'd barely touched the puck. Too busy scanning the bench, the tunnel, anywhere she might appear despite Sullivan's orders.
The puck sailed past me. Again.
"Jesus, Knox!" Chen shouted as he slammed into me during the next whistle. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Everything.
My newly bonded Omega was fifteen miles away, probably pacing her hotel room, and I could feel her anxiety through the bond like acid in my veins.
"I'm fine," I muttered.
"You're playing like shit," Chen shot back.
The ref dropped the puck. I won the faceoff through pure muscle memory, passed to Peterson, and immediately got leveled by their enforcer, Briggs. We went down hard, his elbow catching my ribs.
"Heard you caused quite the scene at the hotel," Briggs said as we untangled, his voice full of mockery. "That Omega doctor must have some sweet pussy to make you lose your mind like that."
Holy fuck, does everyone on Earth know?
I saw red. Started to rise, fists already clenching.
"Oh, that's right," Briggs continued, grinning wider. "She's your pet doctor now, isn't she? Must be nice. Getting patched up and then getting to bend her over the examination table."
The world went silent.
My gloves hit the ice with a soft thud. Briggs' eyes widened for a fraction of a second, just enough time for his mouth to form a small "o" before my knuckles crashed into the spot where his smirk had been.
His head snapped back. Forward again. Back again as I connected a second time.
The third punch sent a warm spray across my face, tiny droplets that caught the arena lights like rubies before spattering across the white surface beneath our skates.
He went down, but I followed. Couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. Every word he'd said about Harper echoed in my skull, feeding the rage that had been building since Sullivan made her stay behind.
Pet doctor.
Sweet pussy.
Bend her over.
My knuckles split against his helmet. His nose crunched under my fist. Someone was screaming. Maybe him. Maybe me.
Bodies crashed into us. Arms wrapped around me, pulling, yanking. I threw them off, went back for more. Briggs wasn't moving anymore, face a mess of blood and swelling, but I didn't care.
"KNOX! STOP! YOU'RE KILLING HIM!" Peterson's voice cracked with panic.
Peterson and Chen together couldn't hold me. It took half the team piling on before they dragged me off. Even then, I was still swinging, catching Mitchell in the mouth, dropping Chen with an elbow.
The refs were going insane, whistles shrieking. The crowd was on its feet. Both benches had cleared.
"Match penalty! You're gone, Maddox! GONE!" the head referee screamed in my face.
Two refs and three teammates escorted me off the ice. My jersey was soaked with blood, mostly Briggs', some mine. My right hand was definitely broken. Didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the rage still boiling in my chest.
Richards was waiting in the tunnel, face purple with fury.
"What the FUCK was that?" he shouted.
"He disrespected what's mine," I said flatly.
"I don't give a shit! You just committed assault on live television!" Richards stepped closer, voice dropping dangerously.
"Good. Now everyone knows what happens when they talk about her," I replied.
"Her? You mean Dr. Graves?" His eyes narrowed. "The doctor you were explicitly told to stay away from?"
"The Omega I claimed. My mate," I stated simply.
Richards went white. "You didn't."
I just stared at him. The truth was probably written in the violence still shaking through my muscles.
"Jesus Christ, Knox. You claimed her? During her heat?" he whispered.
"She asked me to," I said.
"She was in heat! She couldn't consent!" Richards exploded.
"She could and did," I snarled, voice getting louder. "And if one more person suggests otherwise, I'll put them through the fucking wall."
"You're suspended. Indefinitely. Maybe permanently," Richards said coldly.
"Fine," I shrugged.
"Fine? Your career is over and all you say is fine?" he asked incredulously.
"I don't give a fuck about my career," I told him.
"Since when?" Richards demanded.
"Since Harper became more important than hockey," I said simply.
Richards laughed bitterly. "You've known her five weeks."
"Five weeks, five years, five minutes. Doesn't matter. She's mine now," I stated.
"No, she's fired is what she is. The league won't tolerate this. A doctor sleeping with a player? A claimed Omega treating the Alpha who bit her? It's a lawsuit waiting to happen," Richards said.
The rage surged again. "They can't fire her for being claimed," I growled.
"They can fire her for compromising the integrity of the medical staff. For showing favoritism. For about a dozen other reasons that all boil down to 'she fucked a player,'" Richards spat.
"Don't talk about her like that," I warned.
"It's how everyone's going to talk about her!" Richards shouted, stepping closer. "You've destroyed her career. You get that, right? No team will hire her after this."
The words hit like a punch to the gut. But I pushed past him, heading for the exit.
"Where are you going?" Richards called after me.
"To find her," I said without looking back.
"Knox, if you leave now, you're done. No arbitration, no appeal. You're finished in this league," he warned.
I kept walking.
The taxi crawled through traffic and I refused to think about what I’d just done.
My chest was tight, as if an elephant were sitting on it.
On the taxi’s radio, the sports announcer talked about me.
The excitement in his voice as he mentioned, “most violent incident in the last three years.” A sigh l
The hotel lobby was empty except for the desk clerk who took one look at my bloody knuckles and disappeared into the back office. Smart.
I took the stairs three at a time. Twelve floors. My ribs screamed, hand throbbing, but the pain was nothing compared to the need to see her, to explain, to fix this.
Her door was locked. Of course it was.
"Harper," I called through the door.
"Go away, Knox," came her muffled reply.
"Open the door," I said.
"No," she said firmly.
"Please," I tried again.
"You nearly killed him," she said, her voice sounding like she was pressed against the door. "Briggs is in the ICU."
"He'll live," I said dismissively.
"That's not the point!" she cried out.
"He called you my pet. Said things about you. Disgusting things," I explained.
"So you beat him unconscious?" she asked in disbelief.
"Yes," I said simply.
"Knox, that's not normal!" she exclaimed.
"Nothing about us is normal!" I pressed my forehead to the door. "Harper, please. Let me in."
"Why? So you can tell me this was protecting me? That you did it for us?" she asked bitterly.
"I did it because the thought of anyone disrespecting you makes me insane," I admitted.
"That's the problem! You're out of control!" she said.
"Only when it comes to you," I replied softly.
Silence. Then the lock clicked.
She opened the door, and my chest tightened. She'd been crying. Her eyes were red, puffy, and she was wearing my t-shirt from last night.
"You're hurt," she said quietly, looking at my hand.
"It's nothing," I dismissed.
"It's broken," she corrected.
"Harper..." I started.
"Come in. Let me look at it," she said, stepping aside.
I followed her inside. She got the medical kit from her bag, all professional despite wearing my shirt and nothing else. Her hands were gentle as she examined mine, checking each knuckle, assessing the damage.
"Second and third metacarpals are fractured. You need an X-ray," she diagnosed.
"Later," I said.
"Knox..." she sighed.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
She laughed, short and bitter. "Am I okay? My career is over, the entire league thinks I'm your whore, and you just committed felony assault on live TV. No, I'm not okay."
"I'm sorry," I said quietly.
"For which part?" she asked.
"For hurting you. Never for protecting you," I clarified.
"This wasn't protection. This was possession," she said.
"Same thing when it comes to you," I replied.
She looked up at me, and the tears started again. "They fired me. Richards called. Said to clean out my office when we get back."
Something broke in my chest. "Harper..." I breathed.
"Don't. Just don't," she said, going back to wrapping my hand. "You got what you wanted. I'm yours now. Only yours. Because no one else will hire me."
"We'll figure it out," I insisted.
"There's no 'we'll figure it out!' This is my life, Knox!" she cried.
"And you're mine!" I shot back.
The words hung between us, too heavy, too real.
"That's not enough," she whispered.
"It has to be," I said desperately.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because I can't undo it. Can't unclaim you. Can't unfeel what I feel," I said, touching her face with my good hand. "Can't stop wanting you even though I know I've ruined everything."
"You have," she agreed quietly. "You've ruined everything."
"I know," I admitted.
"But I still want you too," she confessed, the admission seeming to break her. "And I hate myself for it."