Chapter 19
Maya
We didn't go to the Yukon.
We made it as far as a truck stop diner in New Hampshire before Leo realized that dragging a pregnant woman into the Arctic Circle with no supplies and a stolen flannel shirt was, perhaps, not the most practical plan.
"I panicked," he admitted over a plate of lukewarm scrambled eggs. "I just wanted to get you somewhere where the snow is deeper than the politics."
"I appreciate the impulse," I said, stealing a piece of his bacon. "But maybe we start smaller. Like... my parents' lake house in Maine? It's empty this time of year. It has heat. And Wi-Fi."
"Do your parents have a shotgun?"
"My dad collects antique rifles."
"Sold."
So we drove to Maine. Or rather, we took a bus, then a taxi, then hiked the last mile up the gravel driveway because the gate code had changed and I didn't want to call my dad.
We had been there for three days.
It was... peaceful. Terrifyingly, wonderfully peaceful.
The house was a cedar-shingled cottage overlooking a frozen lake.
We spent the days scavenging the pantry (lots of canned soup and pasta), sleeping in late, and talking.
We talked about everything. We talked about the baby names (Leo liked "Hunter"; I vetoed it immediately).
We talked about his childhood. We talked about my music.
But mostly, we healed.
I watched Leo. He was different. The frenetic, caged energy was gone. He chopped wood for the fireplace with a steady, rhythmic calm. He touched me constantly—a hand on my back, a kiss on my temple—as if he needed to reassure himself I was real.
But we knew it couldn't last. We were hiding. And hiding wasn't living.
On the fourth morning, I woke up to find Leo sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed in jeans and a clean sweater he'd found in my dad's closet. He was holding his phone—which he had finally turned back on.
"It's blowing up," he said quietly.
I sat up, pulling the quilt around me. "Who?"
"Everyone. The Council. My agent. Silas." He turned the phone to me. "Silas says the university is holding a press conference today. To 'address the rumors'. They're going to scapegoat me, Maya. They're going to say I went rogue. That I'm dangerous."
"And what about us?"
"They're going to paint you as a victim. A student who was preyed upon by an unstable athlete."
I felt a flash of cold anger. "I am not a victim."
"I know," Leo said. He stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the frozen lake. "But if we stay here... if we let them control the narrative... that's what the world will believe. And that's what our kid will grow up reading on the internet."
He turned back to me. His eyes were clear. Hazel-gold and fierce.
"I'm tired of running, Maya. I'm tired of hiding in cabins."
"So what do we do?"
"We go back," he said. "We go to that press conference. And we tell them the truth."
"The truth?" I swallowed hard. "About the mating? About the baby?"
"About us," he corrected. "We walk in there holding hands. We show them that I'm not a monster and you're not a victim. We show them we're a team."
"Leo, the Council... the North Shore pack... they could hurt you."
"Let them try," he growled softly. "I'm not fighting for a contract anymore. I'm fighting for my family. And that makes me a hell of a lot more dangerous than them."
He walked over to the bed and offered me his hand.
"Are you with me?"
I looked at his hand. Large. Scarred. Steady.
I thought about the girl who hid in practice rooms. I thought about the girl who was terrified of her mother's judgment.
That girl was gone. She had burned up in the fire of falling in love with a wolf.
I took his hand.
"I'm with you," I said. "Let's go crash a press conference."
Five Hours Later. Blackwood Mountain University.
The Student Union auditorium was packed.
Reporters from ESPN, local news, and even a few national outlets were crammed into the seats. The stage was set with a long table draped in Blackwood colors.
The Dean of Students, Coach Miller, and—to my horror—Marcus Thorne, the agent, sat behind microphones. They looked solemn. Grave. Like they were at a funeral.
Leo and I stood in the wings, hidden by the heavy velvet curtain.
We had snuck in through the loading dock. Silas had met us at the back door, looking like he’d seen a ghost. He had hugged Leo so hard I thought he cracked a rib, then handed us VIP passes he’d swiped from the athletic office.
"You guys are insane," Silas had whispered. "But you look good."
We did look good.
We had stopped at a thrift store on the way.
Leo was wearing a black button-down shirt and dark jeans.
He looked rugged, imposing, and undeniably Alpha.
I was wearing a simple navy dress that skimmed my figure, hiding the tiny bump but showing off my legs.
My hair—still blonde, though the roots were showing—was pulled back.
I gripped Leo’s hand. My palms were sweating.
"Ready?" he whispered.
"No," I admitted. "But let's do it anyway."
On stage, the Dean tapped the microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. We are here to address the recent... disturbances involving our former student, Leo Vance. As you know, Mr. Vance has withdrawn from the university to seek treatment for severe behavioral issues. The university condemns all forms of aggression and..."
"That's our cue," Leo murmured.
He didn't wait for permission. He didn't wait for an introduction.
He walked out onto the stage.
He pulled me with him.
The room went silent. Then, a collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Cameras flashed blindingly.
We walked to the center of the stage, right in front of the table where the powerful men sat.
Leo didn't look at them. He looked at the crowd.
He didn't let go of my hand.
"Leo?" Coach Miller stood up, looking stunned. "What are you doing here?"
Leo ignored him. He leaned over and grabbed the microphone from in front of the Dean. The feedback squealed.
"Testing," Leo said calmly. His voice boomed through the speakers. "Is this thing on? Good."
He looked at the reporters.
"My name is Leo Vance. And I am not 'seeking treatment'. I am not 'unstable'. And I am definitely not hiding."
He pulled me closer, wrapping an arm around my waist.
"This is Maya Sterling. She is not a victim. She is my partner. My equal. And the mother of my child."
Pandemonium exploded.
Reporters shouted questions. Flashbulbs went off like strobe lights. Marcus Thorne stood up, his face purple.
"Cut the mic!" Thorne yelled. "Security! Get them off the stage!"
"Sit down, Marcus," Leo growled.
It wasn't a request. It was an Alpha Command. It rumbled through the floorboards.
Thorne sat. He looked terrified.
Leo turned back to the crowd.
"There have been rumors," he said. "About my temper. About my 'condition'. Let me be clear. I have a genetic trait that makes me... intense. Aggressive. Yes. But it also makes me loyal. It makes me protective."
He looked at me. His eyes softened, ignoring the chaos around us.
"For a long time, I thought that part of me made me a monster. I thought I had to cage it to be successful. I thought I had to choose between being a great hockey player and being a good man."
He squeezed my waist.
"I was wrong. The thing that makes me dangerous on the ice is the same thing that makes me love this woman. You can't have the athlete without the wolf. And I am done apologizing for the wolf."
He looked at the camera at the back of the room—the one broadcasting live.
"So here is the truth. I am Leo Vance. I am a Blackwood Timber Wolf. I am going to be a father. And I am going to play in the NHL. Not despite my family, but for them."
He paused.
"And if any team has a problem with that? If any agent thinks love is a liability? Then I don't want your contract. I'll play in Europe. I'll play in a beer league. I don't care. Because I already won the only prize that matters."
He kissed me.
Right there on stage. In front of the Dean. In front of ESPN. In front of the world.
It wasn't a polite peck. It was a claim. He dipped me slightly, his mouth covering mine, searing and possessive.
The crowd went wild. Some cheered. Some gasped.
When he pulled back, he looked at Marcus Thorne.
"We're done here," Leo said.
He dropped the mic.
Literally. Thud.
He grabbed my hand. "Let's go."
We walked off the stage.
We walked past the stunned security guards. Past Silas, who was slow-clapping in the wings with tears in his eyes.
We walked out the back door into the sunlight.
One Hour Later. The Hive.
We didn't go far. We went home.
The Hive was empty when we arrived, but not for long. Silas had texted the group chat: MOM AND DAD ARE HOME.
Within twenty minutes, the entire hockey team—the Pack—was there.
But it wasn't a party. It was a council.
We stood in the living room. Twenty large, imposing men formed a circle around us.
Leo stood in the center, his arm around me. He looked at them. He scanned the room, meeting every pair of eyes.
"I broke the rules," Leo said quietly. "I exposed us. I mated a human."
Silence.
Then, Jax stepped forward. The goalie. The joker.
"Yeah, you did, Cap," Jax said. "And it was pretty badass."
A ripple of laughter went through the room.
"Seriously," Silas added. "You told the NHL to shove it on live TV. That's legendary."
"But the Council..." one of the freshmen started nervously.
"Screw the Council," Leo said. "The Council cares about secrecy. I care about us. This pack. This family."
He looked at me.
"Maya is pack now. She carries the Alpha heir. If anyone has a problem with that... speak now. Or challenge me."
His eyes flashed gold. The air pressure in the room dropped.
No one moved. No one spoke.
Then, slowly, Silas knelt. Not fully, just on one knee. A gesture of respect.
Jax knelt.
One by one, the entire team went down on one knee.
"Pack," Silas said.
"Pack," the others echoed.
Tears pricked my eyes. I looked at Leo. He wasn't looking at them with arrogance. He was looking at them with gratitude.
He nodded. "Rise."
They stood up. The tension broke. Someone cracked a beer. Someone turned on music.
"Okay!" Jax yelled. "Who wants to bet on how fast the Red Wings GM calls begging for him back?"
"Ten minutes," Silas bet.
"Five," Leo said, checking his phone.
It was already ringing.
He looked at the screen. Detroit Red Wings - Front Office.
He showed it to me. "Told you."
"Answer it," I said.
"Nah," Leo smirked. He silenced the call and tossed the phone onto the sofa. "Let them sweat. I have more important things to do."
He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the stairs.
"Where are you going?" Silas catcalled.
"Team meeting," Leo called back. "Do not disturb."
The Bedroom.
We locked the door.
The noise of the pack downstairs faded to a dull thrum.
We were alone. Finally, truly alone.
Leo backed me against the door. He didn't kiss me immediately. He just looked at me. He traced my face with his fingertips, as if memorizing me all over again.
"You were amazing," I whispered.
"We were amazing," he corrected. "You didn't flinch. You stood there like a Queen."
"I learned from the best."
He smiled. A slow, predatory, happy smile.
"I need you," he rasped. "Right now. I need to feel you. To celebrate."
"Celebrate what?"
"Freedom," he said. "And the fact that I never have to hide this again."
He leaned down and kissed me. It was slow and deep and full of light.
He picked me up, wrapping my legs around his waist, and carried me to the bed.
This wasn't the desperate, angry sex of the hospital. This wasn't the fearful, secret sex of the dorms.
This was joyful.
He undressed me slowly, worshipfully. He kissed every inch of skin he exposed. He kissed my stomach—the tiny bump that was barely there—and whispered promises against my skin.
"Hi, peanut," he murmured. "Dad's here. I'm not going anywhere."
When he entered me, it was with a reverence that made my breath catch. He filled me completely, moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm that felt like a heartbeat.
"I love you," he whispered with every thrust. "I love you. I love you."
"I love you," I cried back, arching into him.
We moved together in the afternoon sunlight. There were no shadows. There were no secrets.
It was just us. Skin on skin. Soul on soul.
When the release came, it was blindingly bright. It felt like breaking the surface of the water after holding your breath for a lifetime.
We collapsed together, tangled in the sheets, sweating and laughing.
Yes, laughing.
Leo buried his face in my neck and chuckled.
"What?" I asked, stroking his hair.
"My agent just texted me," he mumbled. "He said 'You're fired. Also, can I represent the baby?'"
I laughed out loud. "He's shameless."
"He's a shark," Leo agreed. "But he knows a winner when he sees one."
He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at me. His expression turned serious.
"You know it's not going to be easy, right? The media... the travel... the Council might still try something."
"I know," I said. I reached up and touched the scar on his chest. "But easy is boring. I prefer 'aggressive resting'."
He grinned. "Is that so?"
"Mhmm."
"Well then," he said, lowering his head to kiss me again. "We better get some rest."
I pulled him down.
The war was over. The game was won.
And the prize was right here in my arms.