Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
Cade
“Another five-minute penalty for Hawke,” the announcer called out, the shock ringing loud and clear in his voice. Our group wasn’t necessarily known for fights.
That changed tonight.
The Wardens were out for blood. We talked strategy through clenched teeth, every single one of us on edge. Despite the distraction of wanting to kick their asses, we also wanted to show them we were better players too.
Kieran was practically giddy when he slammed his big body into the penalty box.
He was skating a fine line, close to getting himself ejected.
I wasn’t sure what had changed. Maybe this was his way of coping with today, but if he wasn’t careful, he’d find his ass tossed before we were even out of the second period.
We’d already had to clear the ice more than once for bloodshed. The refs were visibly frustrated, the officials confused, whistles coming late, tempers flaring faster than they could control.
We’d just gotten play restarted again.
Conrad, for his part, hadn’t let a single puck get past him in the first half. He was locked in and swallowing rebounds like they were nothing. We were obliterating the competition, far better than we ever had before.
I pushed myself harder, skates carving clean lines through freshly smoothed ice, weaving around confused Narwhals. The puck danced along my stick as I carried it over the blue line, cutting inside the defender.
Their goalie moved too early, dropping his angle, glove held a bit too high.
It didn’t matter.
My shot was sharp, snapping off his leg pad and rattling the net.
“What the fuck is your guys’ problem?” Sutton, their delta, cursed as he skated past me.
I said nothing.
We’d promised Lana we wouldn’t say a word. Even Wilder, one of the calmest players on the ice, had reached his limit. They always discounted the beta. Underestimating him tonight would be a mistake.
He was our not-so-secret weapon.
Wilder intercepted the puck along the boards and sent it clean across the ice to Mason, threading it past two defensemen. We were a man down, but it didn’t matter.
Someone slammed into me from the side, sending me into a brief tailspin. I recovered fast, one of the benefits of being an alpha on high alert. Faster reflexes and quicker balance recovery. Not as quick as our deltas, but it was a close second.
Even through his cage, I could see Milo Cruz’s glare. “What the fuck is your problem?” he growled. “This is unsportsmanlike. You’re going to get fined.”
“And yet, it’ll be worth it,” I sang out, not bothering to stay quiet this time.
I could feel the anger radiating off him, and I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face.
“This moment,” I added quietly, skating past him. “I want you to remember it.”
He was so distracted he didn’t see the play developing behind him. I pivoted, intercepted the puck, and slammed into one of the Narwhals’ rookies, separating him from it. The puck shot straight to Wilder, who snagged it effortlessly.
His huge body barreled down the ice. He was probably built more for football, but damn if that beta couldn’t move. Powerful strides, head up, owning the ice.
By the time the first-line was pulled off for a shift change and replaced by the second, I collapsed onto the bench, my chest heaving. Satisfaction, adrenaline, and giddy vengeance pulsed through me. This was the exact outcome I wanted.
“Somebody tell me what the fuck that was,” the coach demanded as we leaned over the boards.
“Justice,” I said evenly. “We’ve never questioned you, Coach. We’re good players, but tonight, we aren’t going to be.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” he bit out, but we were done talking. He let it go, yelling out at Rainer for losing the puck. Thankfully, the team got it back. Our second line was just as good as the first.
It continued like that through the rest of the second period. It felt like the longest game of my life.
There would absolutely be fallout for tonight. Something we’d have to handle with our heads held high.
If they fined us, we’d pay. None of that mattered.
I had my doubts it would be the only game like this. The moment the Narwhals starting lineup found out we had their omega, that she’d left them behind, they’d try to strike back.
The third period was no different. The home crowd went wild, thunderous and relentless with each goal we slammed into the net.
A small handful of Narwhal fans tried to boo, but they were drowned out completely.
The announcers’ voices blurred into static. So did the jeers from the other bench. If there was one thing my alpha knew how to do, it was hyperfocus.
Right now, I was locked in.
When the coach sent us out for the final stretch, I was ready. I flew across the ice, freshly resurfaced and smooth, my skates sharp beneath me. The entire first-line was out together, our pack bond wide open again.
Their adrenaline and determination fueled my own. We were one unit.
It wasn’t just the bond, but years of playing together, of reading micro-movements, of knowing where the others would move without looking. That preliminary bond we’d formed mattered. I could feel them around me, our presence swelling and overwhelming everything else.
The Narwhals never stood a chance.
The coaches tried to stagger the shifts, but every time they put us out against each other, we dominated. When they split us, we eased off just enough to stay clean, but effective. It made the times we faced off with those assholes even more explosive.
We’d be feeling it tomorrow, too.
The rivalry was obvious now. Nothing compared to my hatred for the Narwhals and the assholes they chose to represent them.
The Narwhals only managed to sneak two pucks past Conrad before the final buzzer sounded.
The crowd erupted, noise cresting louder than I’d ever heard it. We skated together, colliding in celebration, sticks raised, a pile forming near center ice.
I barely managed to focus as the interviews and press started. They knew I wasn’t much of a talker and went for guys like Mason and Conrad. I did my part, smiling and celebrating, hoping to rub it in their faces just a little more.
When they laid down to sleep tonight, I wanted them to think of this and wonder just what had shifted.
This wasn’t our first game. However, this rivalry and intensity were a first.
Just wait until they found out the truth. I bet it’d be even more brutal. A clash from both sides.
The locker room was chaos when we finally piled in. Adrenaline had us all wired, voices overlapping, laughter sharp and manic. I didn’t even bother worrying about the consequences yet.
Coach was pissed, I knew that much.
After the showers, my body was sore and stiff, muscles screaming. The extra hits and constant pressure was rough. We were absolutely going to pay for it tomorrow.
“Starting Lineup, stay behind. Flynn, you’re good to go.”
Conrad hesitated, but he didn’t push it. Cade waved him off. “Drinks are on me tonight,” he said, reluctantly heading out. At least he’d be there to keep an eye on Lana. I hated that she was alone in the kitchen tonight, watching and waiting for us.
Though, I hoped she loved the show we put on.
Coach didn’t waste time laying into us, his voice loud enough I knew they could hear it in the hall. “Somebody want to tell me what the fuck that was?!”
He wasn’t a screamer, but we’d crossed a line.
“The Narwhals had it coming,” Lennon said, speaking for all of us. “We’re sorry for how it made you look, but we needed it.”
“So this was personal,” Coach said flatly. I told him as much out there on the bench.
We waited as he started to pace, his mouth moving as he muttered silently to himself. This was new territory for him.
Understanding dawned on his face a second later, followed quickly by frustration. “This is about Lana Flynn, isn’t it?”
We said nothing. There was no way we were going to out our reasons. The less he knew, the better.
“I like our new nutritionist,” he continued, rubbing his temples. “I understand loyalty. But I won’t have that shit on my team. You fight by winning. We play clean and we stay strong. Not like this.”
“Sorry, Coach,” we muttered in unison. We didn’t bother to lie and say it wouldn't happen again.
He went on for several minutes, laying out some hard truths. When he finally stopped, he shook his head. “The entire first-line is out next game, and banned from practice next week.”
“What?” Mason started, but Coach cut him off.
“You made your choice. If I don’t punish this, the league will. You fight your battles with skill and discipline. I won’t tolerate behavior like this on my team. Understood?”
“Yes, Coach,” we said.
When he left, the locker room fell silent. We looked every part the chastised players, as if we were thinking over our decisions.
All I could think about was the omega I definitely shouldn’t be this attached to. It wasn’t friendly, but I was respecting Conrad.
For now.
“That was brutal,” Wilder muttered. “But, I don’t fucking regret it.”
“Hell no,” I agreed.
“Did anyone notice her scent changing?” Kieran asked quietly, scrubbing a hand over his face.
Something about the way he said it sparked hope in my chest. It was dangerous, and I shoved it down immediately.
“What do you mean?” Wilder asked.
“Nothing yet,” Kieran said. “If it changes more, you tell me.”
On that vague note, he stood and left.
We all knew he had plans with Lana tonight, leaving us to go smooth things over with the rest of the team. Even if we did mean it, we weren’t trying to be assholes. This game was just personal.
I couldn’t wait for the moment the Narwhals first-line realized that they’d lost everything, so I could deliver the punishment they truly deserved.
One that required far more blood than we took tonight.
For now, I’d wait.
In the meantime, I’d take care of the omega they should’ve protected all along.