Chapter 15
Leo
Draft Day was three weeks away. The playoffs were starting in two days. The pressure cooker that was my life had the dial turned up to eleven.
But for the first time in my twenty-two years, I didn't feel like I was going to explode.
I felt... grounded.
I sat on the edge of my bed in The Hive, watching Maya brush her hair in the mirror.
She was wearing my oversized grey t-shirt, which had officially become her uniform whenever she was in this room.
The morning sun filtered through the curtains, catching the dust motes and turning her mahogany hair into strands of liquid copper.
She was humming. Elgar. Again.
I smiled, a genuine, easy expression that felt foreign on my face but was becoming frighteningly habitual.
"You're going to be late," I said, leaning back on my elbows.
"I have time," she said, not rushing. She met my eyes in the mirror. "Are you going to practice?"
"Optional skate today. Coach Miller wants us resting our legs for the semi-final."
"So you're skipping?"
"I'm resting," I corrected. "Aggressively."
She laughed and put down the brush. She walked over to the bed and crawled onto the mattress, moving on her hands and knees until she was hovering over me.
"Aggressive resting sounds boring," she teased, trailing a finger down my chest, tracing the line of the scar.
"It involves a lot of horizontal activity," I murmured, my hands finding her hips. "And protein intake."
"Gross."
"Practical."
She leaned down and kissed me. It was slow, lazy, and tasted like mint toothpaste and sunlight.
"I have a theory," she whispered against my lips.
"Yeah?"
"I think the baby likes it when you're happy. I haven't been nauseous all morning."
My hands tightened on her waist. The mention of the baby—our "peanut," my "pup"—still sent a jolt of terror through me, but it was mixed with a fierce, possessive pride.
"The baby has good taste," I said. "And the baby knows its dad is currently the happiest man in the Northern Hemisphere."
Maya pulled back, her eyes searching mine. "Are you? Really?"
"Really," I said. And I meant it. "The scout from Detroit called yesterday. He liked the tape from the last few games. Said I looked 'disciplined'. Can you believe that? Disciplined."
"I believe it," she said softly. "Because you are."
"I'm only disciplined because I have something worth protecting now."
I sat up, pulling her into my lap. She straddled me easily, her arms going around my neck.
"We're going to make it, Maya," I said, the words feeling solid and real in the air. "The Draft is going to happen. I'll get the contract. We'll move. Maybe Chicago. Or Detroit. Somewhere with good orchestras and bad winters."
"I like bad winters," she smiled.
"We'll get a house. Not an apartment. A house with a yard. So the kid can run around."
"And a fence," she added. "For safety."
"A big fence," I agreed. "And a soundproof music room for you. And a basement gym for me."
"It sounds perfect," she whispered.
"It's the plan," I said. "Plan B. Us."
She kissed me again, deeper this time. I felt the familiar spark, the biological pull that made me want to devour her. But I held back. I savored it.
"I love you," she said against my mouth.
"I love you," I answered. "More than I thought I was capable of."
We stayed like that for a while, just holding each other in the sun-drenched room. It felt like the eye of the storm. The calm before the triumph.
I checked the clock on the nightstand.
"You really are going to be late now," I said regretfully. "And Professor Halloway will have a stroke."
"Fine," she groaned, climbing off me. "But you owe me dinner tonight. Real dinner. Not a protein bar."
"Steak," I promised. "At the cabin. I'll cook."
"Deal."
She got dressed quickly, pulling on her jeans and sweater. She grabbed her backpack and blew me a kiss from the door.
"See you tonight, Wolf," she said.
"See you tonight, Little Bit."
She closed the door.
I fell back onto the pillows, staring at the ceiling. I let out a long, contented sigh.
Life was good. Life was terrifyingly, wonderfully good.
Two Hours Later.
I was in the kitchen of The Hive, making a smoothie. The house was empty; most of the guys were in class or at the optional skate I was skipping.
I was whistling. Actually whistling.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
I glanced at it.
Silas: Turn on the TV. Now.
My whistling died.
Me: What channel?
Silas: Local News. Channel 8.
A cold knot formed in my stomach. Silas never texted like that.
I walked into the living room and grabbed the remote. I turned on the massive flat-screen TV mounted above the fireplace.
The screen flickered to life.
It was the Channel 8 midday news broadcast. The banner at the bottom of the screen read: brEAKING NEWS: SCANDAL ROCKS BLACKWOOD UNIVERSITY.
The anchor, a woman with severe hair and a serious expression, was speaking.
"...allegations surfacing this morning regarding the university's star hockey program.
An anonymous source has leaked documents and photographs that suggest a serious breach of NCAA regulations and, more disturbingly, university safety protocols involving the mysterious 'fraternity' known as The Pack. "
My blood turned to ice.
The screen changed. It showed a photo.
It was me.
But it wasn't a hockey photo.
It was the photo of me and Maya kissing behind the library. It was grainy, taken from a distance, but unmistakable. I was pressing her against the wall. Her hands were in my hair.
The anchor’s voice continued over the image.
"The photos, sent to university administration and several media outlets, allegedly show Team Captain Leo Vance engaging in an inappropriate relationship with a student, Maya Sterling.
While consensual relationships are not banned, the source alleges that Vance—who has a history of violent on-ice behavior—has been 'stalking and intimidating' Ms. Sterling. "
"What?" I shouted at the empty room. "That's a lie!"
The screen changed again.
This time, it was a video.
It was shaky, handheld footage. It was dark.
It was the fight. The one against Granite State. The one where I beat Number 55 into the ice.
But the audio had been enhanced.
You could hear the growl. My growl. The unnatural, animalistic sound that ripped out of my throat right before I stopped punching.
And then, the video cut to a close-up of my face.
My eyes were glowing.
Gold.
Unmistakably, biologically gold.
"The source also provided medical records," the anchor said, "alleging that Vance suffers from a condition known as 'Feral Psychosis,' a dangerous genetic trait that makes him a threat to public safety.
The university has declined to comment, but sources say an emergency board meeting has been called. "
My knees gave out. I sank onto the sofa, staring at the screen in horror.
They knew.
They knew about the eyes. They knew about the Feral gene.
And they had dragged Maya into it. They were painting me as a predator and her as a victim.
My phone started blowing up.
Coach Miller: My office. Now.
Marcus Thorne (Agent): What the hell is this, Leo? Feral Psychosis? We're done. Don't call me.
Unknown Number: Checkmate, Daddy.
I stared at the last text.
Checkmate.
The North Shore pack. The girl in the woods.
I stood up. The smoothie maker was still humming in the kitchen, a cheerful sound in the middle of the apocalypse.
I had to find Maya.
I grabbed my keys and ran for the door.
Maya
I was in the middle of a Theory exam when the whispering started.
It began in the back row and rippled forward like a wave. Phones buzzed. Screens lit up under desks. People turned in their seats to look at me.
Professor Halloway stopped writing on the whiteboard. "Is there a problem?"
No one answered. They just kept staring at me.
Then, Harper burst into the room.
She shouldn't be here. She wasn't a music student.
She looked frantic. Her face was pale, her eyes wide. She spotted me in the third row.
"Maya," she said, her voice shaking. "You need to come with me. Now."
"Miss Reynolds," Professor Halloway barked. "This is an examination—"
"I don't care!" Harper yelled. She ran down the aisle and grabbed my arm, hauling me out of my seat. "We have to go. Before they see you."
"Who? What's going on?" I whispered, stumbling after her.
"Everyone," Harper said grimly.
She dragged me out into the hallway. She didn't stop. She pulled me toward the back exit.
"Harper, stop! You're hurting me!" I yanked my arm back.
She spun around. She shoved her phone in my face.
"Look," she said.
I looked.
It was the news report. The photo of me and Leo. The headline: PREDATOR ON CAMPUS?
And then, the medical record.
It wasn't Leo's medical record.
It was mine.
A photo of the lab report from the campus clinic.
Patient: Maya Sterling.
hCG: POSITIVE.
The caption read: Is the Captain breeding a new generation of monsters?
The world tilted on its axis. The hallway spun.
"They leaked it," I whispered. "How did they get this?"
"I don't know," Harper said, tears in her eyes. "But it's everywhere, Maya. The news. Twitter. The campus forum. They're calling Leo a monster. They're calling you a... a breeder."
I put a hand over my mouth, suppressing the urge to vomit.
"Where is he?" I choked out.
"I don't know. But security is looking for him. And the police."
"The police?"
"Because of the video," Harper said. "The fight video. They're saying it's evidence of assault with a deadly weapon. His hands."
"Oh my god."
"We have to get you out of here," Harper said. "My car is in the lot. We'll go to my parents' house in Burlington. Just for a few days."
"No," I said, backing away. "I have to find him."
"Maya, you can't! It's a mob scene out there!"
"He needs me!" I screamed. "He's going to think everyone hates him! He's going to think I hate him!"
I turned and ran.
I ran out the back door of the Conservatory.
The campus was in chaos. Students were gathered in clusters, pointing at phones, shouting.
I kept my head down. I ran toward the woods. Toward the path to The Hive.
Leo
I made it to the edge of the woods before the police sirens started wailing.
They were coming for me.
The university wasn't taking chances. A "feral" student athlete? A predator? They were sending the cavalry.
I couldn't go to The Hive. They would be there.
I couldn't go to Maya's dorm. They would be watching it.
I needed to get to the cabin. It was the only place.
I pulled my phone out. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped it.
Me: Cabin. Meet me at the cabin. Please.
I sent it to Maya.
I didn't wait for a reply. I threw the phone into the snow. They could track it.
I ran.
I let the Wolf take over. I didn't shift—not yet—but I used the speed. I tore through the underbrush, branches whipping my face, my lungs burning.
I ran for five miles. Uphill. Through deep snow.
By the time I reached the cabin, I was exhausted.
I burst through the door. It was cold. The fire from the other night was dead ash.
I paced.
She'll come. She has to come.
Ten minutes passed. Twenty.
Then, I heard it.
The sound of tires on gravel.
My heart leaped. Maya.
I ran to the door and threw it open.
It wasn't Maya.
It was a black SUV.
Three men stepped out. They weren't police. They weren't university security.
They were big. They moved with a fluid, predatory grace. They wore leather jackets with a patch on the shoulder: A snarling wolf head against a mountain backdrop.
North Shore.
The man in the middle stepped forward. He was older, grey-haired, with a scar running through his lip.
"Leo Vance," he said. His voice was gravel. "You look like shit, son."
"Get off my land," I growled, stepping onto the porch. My eyes were flashing gold. My claws were extending.
"Your land?" The man laughed. "The Council revoked your territory ten minutes ago, Leo. You've been declared Unfit. Feral Risk. Violation of the Secrecy Treaty."
He took a step closer.
"And you know what the penalty for exposing our kind is?"
Two more SUVs pulled up. More men poured out. There were ten of them.
"Where is she?" I demanded. "If you touched her..."
"The girl?" The man smirked. "Oh, we didn't touch her. We didn't have to. The humans are doing a fine job of tearing her apart right now."
He pulled a phone out of his pocket and held it up.
It was a live stream.
It showed the student union. A crowd of students surrounding a small figure.
Maya.
She was crying. People were shouting at her. Someone threw a drink at her.
"Leo!" she was screaming at the camera. "Leo, where are you?"
The screen went black as someone knocked the phone out of the hand of whoever was filming.
I roared.
It was a sound of pure, unadulterated rage.
I shifted.
I didn't care who saw. I didn't care about the clothes shredding.
I exploded into fur and muscle. The Midnight Wolf stood on the porch, massive and terrifying.
I launched myself at the North Shore Alpha.
But there were ten of them.
And they had tranquilizer darts.
I felt the sting in my flank. Then another in my neck. Then another.
My legs went heavy. The world blurred.
I hit the snow.
The last thing I saw was the grey boots of the North Shore Alpha walking toward me.
The last thing I heard was his voice.
"Pack him up. The Council wants him alive. For now."
And then, darkness.
Maya
I made it to the edge of the woods.
I saw the tire tracks. I saw the black SUVs driving away.
I ran up the path to the cabin.
The door was open.
"Leo!"
I ran inside.
It was empty.
But the snow on the porch was churned up. There were claw marks in the wood.
And there was blood.
Bright, red blood against the white snow.
And a single, shredded piece of the flannel shirt I had been wearing earlier that day—the one I had returned to him.
He was gone.
I fell to my knees in the snow, clutching the piece of fabric.
The forest was silent.
The plan was dead. The future was dead.
And I was alone.