6. Simon
My chest heaves with every breath I pull into my lungs.
The practice facility locker room smells like stale sweat and the sour frustration rolling off the three of us. A brutal three-hour practice just wrapped up. Coach pushed us until guys threw up in the trash cans by the bench to get us ready for our game on Thursday.
Sitting on the wooden bench in front of my stall, I lean forward and yank the laces of my left skate loose. My fingers ache. Every muscle in my body screams for rest, but my brain stays wired.
Seventy-two hours have passed.
Three full days have dragged on since Henry handed over his sister's phone number and Wally called Kristy asking for a chance to talk to Vayda. Kristy mentioned Vayda had a lot on her plate and warned us to expect an uphill battle. We gave her space, backing off to wait for a text or a call.
Kicking my left skate off lets it hit the rubber floor with a thud.
My hands shake while reaching for the right one. Thinking about her consumes me. The obsession started the second her scent hit me in the arena lounge, worsening with every hour that passes. Lavender and honeysuckle sticks in the back of my throat. It coats my tongue and makes my mouth water.
Closing my eyes brings up images of her pale skin and those silver bite marks scarred into her neck. The absolute terror in her wide blue eyes right before she bolted into the crowd plays on repeat.
She ran from a perfect scent match, looking at us like monsters.
Wally sits two stalls down, staring at the concrete wall. He maintains a stubborn silence since we stepped off the ice. His dark hair clings to his forehead with sweat. Unstrapping his shoulder pads, he tosses them into his open stall. The plastic clatters against the wood.
Kel paces the length of the aisle in his padded pants and undershirt. His chest rises and falls in rough, jagged motions as anger rolls off him in waves. Waiting drives Kel crazy. Tracking her down remains his top priority, but Wally ordered us to stand down and give Kristy time to work her magic.
The waiting feels like absolute torture.
I pull my right skate off and drop it next to the other one. After stripping off my shin guards, I shove them into my stall. Standing under freezing water might cool the fever in my blood, but my Alpha instincts claw at my ribs. They demand I leave this locker room and go find my Omega.
Wally's phone buzzes.
The sound vibrates against the wooden bench between us, cutting right through the loud chaos of the rest of the team shouting and tossing gear across the locker room.
Kel stops pacing. He locks his dark gray eyes on the small black rectangle.
Wally snatches the device off the wood and stares at the caller ID. Hitting the green button, he puts the call on speaker and sets the phone back down on the bench.
"Kristy, did you talk to her?" Wally keeps his voice flat and controlled.
"Wally, you have to help her!” Kristy projects absolute panic over the line. Her voice shakes with unshed tears. The sound sends a violent shock of adrenaline straight into my veins. My stomach drops out.
"What happened?" Wally leans forward, bracing his hands on his knees. "Where is she?"
"She locked herself in her shed. Her Heat came early, but this time it’s bad.
Real bad." A wet sob echoes over the speaker.
"I held off on talking to her about you guys.
Waiting for our whine with wine night seemed like a better plan.
But watching my friend die from bond rejection is breaking me.
I'm texting you the address. Calling you was my only option. She insists Alpha Aid is useless."
A growl rumbles in my chest at the thought of some random Alpha stepping in for a paycheck.
Vayda is out there right now. She suffers through a brutal Heat alone, her body tearing itself apart from the inside out.
Kel lets out an angry snarl. He kicks a metal trash can across the aisle, sending it slamming into the opposite row of stalls with a deafening crash.
The loud chaos of the locker room stops cold.
A dozen hockey players freeze in place. Wide eyes stare at us, everyone keeping quiet around a furious Alpha.
"Please." Another sob breaks through the speaker. "She needs her Alphas."
Wally reaches out to grab the phone, standing up in one fluid motion. "We are leaving right now. Just hold on. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes."
He taps the screen to end the call, looking at me, then at Kel. The calm, strategic captain vanishes. A desperate Alpha ready to tear the city apart takes his place.
"Get your shoes." Wally turns to grab his car keys out of his stall. "We’re leaving."
Leaving the rest of my gear on, I strip my damp undershirt over my head and throw it onto the bench. I grab a clean gray t-shirt from my bag and yank it on. The fabric sticks to the sweat on my chest. I shove my bare feet into my sneakers, grabbing my black jacket and my keys.
Kel beats me to the door in his padded hockey pants. Throwing a dark hoodie over his chest makes him look like a maniac. Appearance is our last concern.
Sprinting down the hallway leaves the rubber flooring squeaking under our shoes.
We blow past the weight room and the sports therapy offices.
Coach yells a question at us from his open office door, but we push past without stopping.
We hit the double glass doors at the front entrance and shove them open.
A spring breeze hits us the second we step outside. The parking lot sits half empty in the afternoon light. Wally hits the unlock button on his key fob, flashing the headlights of his black SUV in the distance.
Running across the asphalt, I rip the back door open and dive into the backseat. Kel takes the front passenger side. Wally slides behind the wheel and hits the ignition before his door shuts. The engine roars to life.
Wally throws the SUV into reverse and slams his foot on the gas. The tires squeal against the pavement as he whips the wheel around, throws it into drive, and floors it toward the exit gate.
Adrenaline makes my hands shake.
Wally's phone pings with a text message. Grabbing it from the console, he shoves it into the phone mount on the dashboard. He pulls up the navigation app and taps the address Kristy sent.
"Fifteen minutes." Wally tightens his grip on the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. "It's on the edge of the city limits."
Kel stares out the windshield with a flexed jaw. "Drive faster."
Wally swerves around a slow-moving sedan and runs a yellow stoplight. Pushing the SUV ten miles over the speed limit lets him dodge traffic with aggressive focus.
Leaning forward rests my forearms on the back of their seats. Panic builds a suffocating knot in my throat. Voicing the words forces us to face the reality of our plan.
"We are showing up unannounced." I look between the two of them. "Kristy kept us a secret."
Kel turns his head to glare over his shoulder. "Forget that. She needs us."
"I know she needs us." The words slip out tight and frustrated. "But bolting from the lounge was her only response to us. Now we plan to show up at her house while she rides out a Heat. She is vulnerable."
Wally keeps his eyes on the road. "Sitting in a locker room while my mate dies from a broken bond is off the table. If she kicks us off the property, I will sleep on her front porch until she changes her mind."
"Forcing a knot is a guaranteed disaster." The absolute truth hangs in the air. "You know how this works. Rejecting the claim during a Heat makes the trauma worse. It accelerates the rejection sickness."
Silence thickens the air in the SUV.
The stakes feel brutal. We play a dangerous game with her life.
The deep instinct to claim a mate acts like a powerful drug, clouding our judgment.
It makes an Alpha want to kick down doors and take what belongs to them.
But Vayda is broken. Her body expects the pack she lost, leaving us as strangers pushing into her safe space.
Kel lets out a long, frustrated breath and rubs the back of his neck. "Then we ease up. Offering our help lets her know we exist for her. Asking us to leave means we step back. But checking on her with my own eyes is my only option. I have to know she’s breathing."
Slumping back into the leather seat, I stare out the tinted window at the passing city. The buildings blur together in a gray smear.
My chest tightens with genuine terror. Knowing her name, her red hair, and her sad blue eyes makes up my entire list of facts.
Yet the thought of losing her crushes me.
The idea of missing the chance to know her as an actual person feels so tragic, making a world without her impossible to comprehend.
Catching her scent shifted my entire existence. The universe handed me a perfect match and dangled her over a cliff. Screaming at me is fine. Throwing things at my head and telling me to go straight to hell is acceptable.
Making sure she survives is my only goal.
Wally takes a hard right turn, sending the tires screeching against the asphalt. The main highway falls behind us as we enter a residential neighborhood.
The transition feels jarring. Older, single-story houses and chain-link fences replace the massive, glass-fronted high-rises and expensive restaurants of the city center. Cars park on the cracked streets, narrowing the lanes and forcing Wally to slow down.
Tension in the car spikes higher with every single block we pass. Kel taps his foot against the floorboard in a rapid, relentless rhythm. Wally’s white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel never falters. I wipe my sweaty palms on the thighs of my jeans.
Scanning the small houses reveals peeling paint, overgrown lawns, and cracked driveways. The stark difference in our lives hits me. Our massive luxury penthouse downtown runs on multi-million dollar hockey contracts, complete with private chefs and team doctors on call.