Ivy
Thousands of voices from fans blend together into buzzing white noise filling the entire arena. I'm sandwiched in the stands between fans in matching jerseys and college guys who've already had too many overpriced beers.
There's no way anyone knows I'm here.
But the face gaiter keeping me invisible is fucking miserable. I keep having to pull it away from my face so it doesn't stick to my mouth.
How the hell does Wraith wear these things all the time?
The massive screen above the ice flickers to life with the pre-game highlights. The Demons logo splashes across first, red and black with a horned demon with tongue lolling out, and then…
Wade's perfect face fills the screen.
My stomach lurches.
He's mid-celebration in the clip, arms raised, white chiclet teeth gleaming as he soaks in the crowd's adoration.
The golden boy of professional hockey.
America's sweetheart with the tragic missing fiancée.
Former fiancée.
Escaped fiancée.
I can barely breathe until the screen switches to the Ghosts lineup.
Thane appears first, crouched low in the goal crease. His dark eyes have that look that makes rookies dump the puck and skate the other direction. The captain's C on his chest looks less like an honor and more like a threat.
Plague cuts across the blue line in the next clip, reading the play three moves ahead like always. His light eyes track the puck as he pivots, dark hair whipping behind him. He makes everything look easy.
Then Whiskey absolutely demolishes someone into the boards.
The hit rattles the camera. He's grinning like a maniac behind his face shield, clearly having the time of his goddamn life while the other guy's soul leaves his body.
And then Wraith.
Holy shit.
The clip catches him mid-stride, his towering form bearing down on some huge defenseman who still looks like he's reconsidering every choice that led him to this moment. Wraith's eyes—those same blue eyes that soften and warm when he looks at me—are empty. Cold. Fixed on his target.
He looks like something you'd summon on accident and spend the rest of your very short life regretting.
I press my lips together hard to keep from laughing.
Because this is the Wraith everyone else sees. The reason opposing teams have a buddy system.
Meanwhile, the real Wraith can't make eggs without setting off the smoke detector and sleeps wrapped around me like an octopus with separation anxiety.
This morning, before we left the pack house, he spent ten minutes trying to pet the disinterested cat that lurks around outside the pack house while Whiskey tried to lure her with a can of tuna.
He is a complete sweetheart and they have no idea.
"—absolutely disgusting, if you ask me."
"Right? Like, we always knew something was wrong with him, but this is—"
"My friend works at the clinic where it happened. She said the pharmacist who leaked it is getting fired. Worth it, if you ask me."
My blood runs cold.
"You've seen the picture?" the other girl asks.
"Oh my gods, yes. It's horrifying. Look."
"Holy shit…"
"Right? He told the pharmacist the suppressant was for his girlfriend. Can you imagine being his girlfriend?"
Wait…
Are they talking about Wraith?
My hands curl into fists. The urge to turn around and physically throttle these people is almost overwhelming, but I stay frozen, ears straining to catch every word.
"I heard there might be more pictures coming. From some medical facility he visits. Someone's apparently got contacts there and—"
My phone vibrates.
Then vibrates again.
And again.
I yank it from my pocket with shaking hands.
WHISKEY
Emergency. Tunnels. NOW.
Ivy seriously please come now
Wraith's ID got leaked and he's freaking the fuck out
I don't know what to do
Please
The word please from Whiskey—the man who jokes about everything, who thinks it's funny when he almost dies—scares the fuck out of me.
I'm out of my seat before I finish reading the last message.
The couple in matching jerseys grumble as I squeeze past them, my knees banging against plastic seats. The college guys don't even notice me leaving. I duck down the stadium stairs, my heart hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat.
IVY
Oh my gods
On my way
Where exactly?
WHISKEY
Equipment storage closet, I'm in the hall. He won't let me near him
The maintenance entrance is exactly where I remember it. Two months of hiding in these tunnels means I could navigate them blindfolded. The familiar citrus tang of industrial cleaner hits me as I slip through the unmarked door.
My phone is still clutched in my hand, and against my better judgment, I open the fan chat that Whiskey's always scrolling through. The one he monitors obsessively because he thinks it's hilarious.
The first post makes my stomach drop through the floor.
GhostHunter
WRAITH ID LEAK - CONFIRMED REAL. CHECK THIS OUT
Below it, a high-resolution image.
Wraith's driver's license.
The lighting is institutional, designed to capture every flaw for identification purposes. His eyes—those beautiful blue eyes that are always so soft when he looks at me—look flat and dead in the photo. Dissociated. Like he'd already left his body before the camera clicked.
And his face…
I know what he looks like. I've kissed that face. I've traced the scars with my fingers and told him he was beautiful and meant it.
But this photo is brutally unfair.
It captures everything and nothing. The sharp pointed teeth, the exposed muscles of his jaw, the permanent skeletal grin. All of it rendered in harsh, cruel government lighting with no context, no warmth, no him.
In person, his gentleness softens his face. The way he moves, the careful tenderness in his hands, the warmth in those eyes. All of it transforms what others see as monstrous into something fierce and protective and beautiful.
My thumb scrolls down to the comments, and my blood runs hot.
BourbonicPlagueShipper
Holy shit that's not real that can't be real
Wraithlifer13
ngl this is nightmare fuel
GhostGirl84
This poor man. What happened to him?
DemonsFTW
lmfaooo he makes millions playing hockey cry me a river
Thanelifer13
changed my username
TruthSeeker_Alpha
There might be more pics from a clinic. Stay tuned
My fingers move before my brain catches up.
Anonymous
What the fuck is wrong with you people? He can't help what he looks like. You're fucking disgusting.
I hit post and navigate away immediately, too furious to watch the inevitable responses. I have to fucking hurry anyway.
I search and then dial the number to his clinic. That must be where the promised additional pictures are coming from.
"Gordon Health Center, this is Margaret speaking. How may I help you?"
"Someone at your facility is leaking confidential patient information." My voice is fucking shaking. Great. "Pictures from a patient's medical records. My mate, Wraith Belmont. You need to find out who it is and stop them."
"Oh gods. I… okay. I'll—"
The phone loses signal and goes dead as I move deeper into the tunnels.
I break into a jog, rounding a corner, and slam into a towering alpha who doesn't even move.
"Shit—!"
Valek catches my arm before I can fall, steadying me with surprisingly gentle hands. His silver eyes flick over my face as I shake myself free and catch my breath.
"You're in a hurry," he observes.
"I… shit, I…" My breath comes in gasps. "Have you seen Wraith? Or Whiskey?"
"No." His head tilts, studying me. The usual menace in his expression has dialed back, replaced by focused concern. "What's wrong?"
"I'm fine."
"You're lying." He doesn't say it accusingly. Just states it like a fact. "You're breathing too fast and your pupils are dilated. Something's wrong."
"It's handled. I just need to find Wraith."
Valek's jaw tightens. For a moment I think he's going to argue, but instead he steps aside and gestures down the tunnel.
"At least allow me to walk beside you."
It's not really a request. I search his face for any sign of threat and find only that strange, focused concern.
"Fine. But if you try anything—"
"I won't."
I start moving again and he falls into step beside me, his longer legs easily matching my near-jogging pace. His presence is slightly unnerving. I feel like Little Red Riding Hood walking alongside a loping white wolf who's decided not to eat me just yet.
We pass a fire extinguisher and I have a brief intrusive thought about how maybe I should bring it along.
Just for old times' sake.
I'm almost tempted to remind him in a half-joking way that if he tries anything, I'll clobber him so hard he'll wake up with amnesia and think Whiskey's his mate, Pepé Le Pew style.
But nothing is funny right now. I can barely breathe, let alone jokingly threaten Valek. He's behaving anyway.
Actually, he's being a perfect gentleman.
The equipment storage area comes into view, and I spot Whiskey immediately. He's pacing the hall outside a door to a supply closet.
"Ivy!" Relief crashes across his face. "Thank fuck. He's in there, he's—"
I glance over my shoulder to say something to Valek, some acknowledgment, some thanks for the escort.
He's gone.
Just empty tunnel where he stood seconds ago.
Like a ghost.
Fitting.
"Wraith's not…" Whiskey's voice drops low. "He's barely responding, Ivy. Be careful. He might be in a feral state."
"I'm not afraid of him."
Whiskey sighs and steps aside, watching me.
The storage room is dark, lit only by the red emergency lighting.
And there, in the corner, my alpha.
Wraith sits on the concrete floor, his massive body folded in on itself like he's trying to make himself smaller.
Even with his legs bent, he takes up the whole space His hands are buried in his hair, fingers digging into his scalp.
His shoulders shake with tremors that have nothing to do with cold.
My heart cracks down the middle.
"Wraith..."
His head snaps up. His panicked eyes widen when he sees me, pupils shrinking to pinpricks, but the growl in his throat dies immediately as his eyes fill with fresh terror. His hands fly into motion, signing frantically, none of it fingerspelled like usual.