Chapter 6 #2
I grabbed my cello and walked out, trembling. Harper was right. It was a bomb. And I was the one holding the match.
The rest of the day was a blur of scales, arpeggios, and panic.
I locked myself in my favorite practice room in the Conservatory. I played the Elgar piece over and over.
Leo was right. It sounded different today.
Before, I had played it with precision. I hit every note in the center of the pitch. My rhythm was metronomic.
Today, it was messy. My bow dug into the strings harder, creating a raspier, throatier sound. I rushed the tempos in the passionate sections. I dragged them in the mournful ones.
It wasn't perfect. But for the first time, it felt like me.
I was sweating. I was exhausted.
My phone buzzed on the music stand.
Mother: We are here. Meet us at the hotel for dinner. 6:00 PM. Do not be late. Wear something appropriate.
The text hit me like a bucket of ice water.
The warmth of the music evaporated. The confidence I had built up in the gym with Leo crumbled into dust.
They're here.
My chest tightened. The familiar vice grip of anxiety clamped around my lungs. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.
I packed my cello with shaking hands. I needed air.
I walked out of the Conservatory into the twilight. It was snowing lightly, fat flakes drifting down from the grey sky.
I didn't go to the hotel. I couldn't face them yet. I needed to brace myself. I needed... armor.
I found myself walking toward the hockey arena.
I didn't have a plan. I just knew that the only time in the last ten years I had felt brave was when Leo Vance was standing next to me.
I slipped in through the broken side door. The arena was dark, the ice glowing under the safety lights.
Leo was there. Of course he was.
He was alone on the ice, skating circles in the dark. He wasn't wearing pads. Just jeans and a sweater. He was moving with a terrifying speed, cutting edges so deep I could hear the ice tearing.
He saw me immediately. He stopped, spraying snow, and skated over to the boards.
"You're supposed to be resting," he said, breathless. "Or practicing."
"They're here," I said. My voice sounded small in the empty arena.
Leo went still. He didn't ask who. He knew.
"And?"
"And I can't breathe," I admitted. I walked up to the glass, pressing my hand against the cold surface. "I have to go to dinner in an hour. And I feel like I'm walking to my execution."
Leo stared at me through the glass. The condensation from his breath fogged the surface between us.
"Come here," he said.
He skated to the gate, unlatched it, and stepped off the ice onto the rubber mats. He towered over me, radiating cold and power.
"Why are you so afraid of them, Maya?" he asked quietly. "They're just people. They're just parents."
"They aren't just parents," I whispered, looking down at my boots. "They're investors."
Leo frowned. "Investors?"
"I was a miracle baby," I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "My mom... she had four miscarriages before me. They spent everything on IVF. They mortgaged their house. They sacrificed their careers. They put every single dollar, every single hope, into having me."
I looked up at him, tears stinging my eyes. "And then, when I showed aptitude for music, it became the plan. I am the return on investment, Leo. I have to be perfect because if I'm not, their sacrifice was for nothing. If I fail, I'm not just a disappointment. I'm a bad debt."
I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering. "I'm not a person to them. I'm a project. And projects don't get to have feelings. Projects don't get to make mistakes."
Leo stared at me. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were swirling with a dark, turbulent emotion.
"That," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "is the saddest thing I have ever heard."
"It's my life."
"No," Leo growled. "It's a cage."
He took a step closer. He reached out and grabbed my shoulders. His grip was firm, grounding.
"You think you're broken because you have emotions?" he asked. "You think you're a bad investment because you're human?"
"Yes."
"Maya," he said, shaking me slightly. "Look at me."
I looked up.
"My father," Leo began, the words sounding like they were being dragged over gravel, "was the strongest Alpha this territory had ever seen. He was perfect. He controlled everything. The business, the pack, the town."
He paused, his jaw working. "And do you know what happened to him?"
I shook my head.
"The pressure broke him," Leo said. "The need to be perfect, the need to control the Wolf... it snapped his mind. He went Feral. He attacked my mother. I had to pull him off her. I had to fight him."
He leaned down, his forehead resting against mine. "I have his blood. I have his gene. Every day I wake up terrified that I'm going to turn into him. That I'm going to hurt the people I love because I can't control the beast."
I gasped softly. "Leo..."
"We are the same," he whispered. "You are terrified of failing. I am terrified of succeeding at the cost of my humanity. We are both walking on thin ice, waiting for it to crack."
He moved his hands from my shoulders to cup my face. His thumbs brushed away the tears I hadn't realized were falling.
"But you are not an investment," he said fiercely. "You are not a project. You are Maya. You smell like vanilla and courage. And if your parents can't see that, then they are blind."
The tenderness in his voice broke me.
I sobbed. Just once. A harsh, jagged sound.
Leo pulled me into his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, burying me in the warmth of his sweater and the solid wall of his muscle.
It wasn't sexual. It was foundational.
He held me while I shook. He rested his chin on the top of my head, making a low, rumbling sound in his chest—a purr. It was a sound of comfort, of protection.
"You're going to go to that dinner," Leo murmured into my hair.
"You're going to sit there, and you're going to eat.
And you're going to remember that you have a wolf in your corner.
If they make you feel small, you think of me.
You think of what we did in the gym. You remember that you are capable of fire. "
I pulled back slightly, looking up at him. "Will you be there?"
"I can't be at the dinner," he said. "But I'll be close. I'll be waiting."
He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my cheek.
"You aren't alone anymore, Maya," he said. "I've got you."
The realization hit me harder than the cold.
I wasn't just attracted to him. I wasn't just fascinated by the danger.
I was falling in love with him.
And that was infinitely more terrifying than any recital.
"Okay," I whispered. "I can do this."
"Good girl," he said softly.
He kissed my forehead. It was a chaste, sweet kiss that felt more intimate than anything we had done before.
"Go," he said. "Show them who you are."
I stepped back, the cold air rushing in to fill the space where his warmth had been.
I turned and walked toward the exit, my cello case heavy on my shoulder. But my heart felt lighter.
I had a secret. I had a wolf. And for the first time, I had armor that was made of something stronger than silence.