Chapter 20
Leo
The locker room smelled exactly the same as it had on the first night of the season: damp gear, high-voltage anxiety, and Tiger Balm. But the energy was different.
It wasn't fear anymore. It was electricity.
Tonight was the National Championship. The Frozen Four final. Blackwood vs. Minnesota.
It was my last game as a Timber Wolf. My last time wearing the 'C' on my chest. My last time skating on this ice before I traded the college colors for the red and white of Detroit.
I sat in my stall, taping my stick.
Wrap. Smooth. Wrap. Smooth.
Around me, the boys were buzzing. Silas was dancing to a playlist that was 90% bass. Jax was juggling pucks, already wearing his helmet.
I looked around the room. I looked at these men—shifters and humans alike—who had stood by me when the world tried to burn me down.
They weren't just a team. They were a pack. And tonight, we were hunting.
"Hey, Cap."
I looked up. Silas was standing there, holding out a fist.
"You good?" he asked. His blue eyes were serious for once. "Big night. Last ride."
I fist-bumped him. "I'm good, Si. I'm ready."
"You look ready," Silas grinned. "You look... settled. It's weird. You usually look like you're about to murder someone before a game."
"I might still murder someone," I said dryly. "Minnesota plays dirty."
"Yeah, but now you murder people with a smile. It's unsettling."
I laughed.
It was true. The constant, grinding rage that had fueled me for three years was gone. The silence in my head wasn't empty anymore; it was peaceful. The Wolf wasn't pacing the cage; he was sitting by the door, tail wagging, waiting to be let out to play.
I stood up, grabbing my helmet.
I walked to the tunnel.
I wasn't looking for the ice. I was looking for her.
She was waiting by the Zamboni entrance, just like she promised.
Maya.
She was wearing my jersey—the same one she wore the night of the fight, the one that swallowed her whole. But now, it fit a little differently. Her belly, five months along, pressed against the fabric, filling out the number 19.
She was glowing. Literally. Her skin had that pregnancy radiance that people talk about but you don't believe until you see it. Her hair was pulled back, but loose tendrils framed her face.
When she saw me, her face lit up.
"Hey, Wolf," she said, stepping forward.
"Hey, Little Bit."
I walked to her, ignoring the curious glances of the arena staff. I pulled her into my arms, careful of the pads, careful of the belly.
"How are we feeling?" I asked, placing a gloved hand on her stomach.
"He's kicking," she smiled. "I think he hears the crowd noise. He's ready to play."
"He better stay in the penalty box for another four months," I murmured, kissing her forehead.
"You nervous?" she asked, leaning back to look at me.
"No," I said honestly. "I used to be. I used to think every game was a referendum on my worth. If I lost, I was worthless. If I won, I survived."
I looked into her brown eyes—the eyes that had seen my darkness and didn't blink.
"Now? It's just a game, Maya. Win or lose, I get to go home with you. I've already won."
She teared up. "Don't make me cry before the anthem, Leo. My mascara isn't waterproof."
"Sorry." I grinned. "Just facts."
"Go get 'em," she whispered. She reached up and tapped my visor. "Play fast. Play hard. But come back in one piece. We need you for diaper duty in July."
"Yes, ma'am."
I kissed her quickly—a taste of vanilla and luck—and turned back to the tunnel.
The team was lining up behind me.
"Let's go, boys!" I roared. The Alpha voice reverberated off the concrete walls.
"HOORAH!"
We charged out onto the ice.
The noise hit us like a physical wave. Twenty thousand screaming fans. The band playing the fight song. The lights blindingly bright.
I skated a lap, feeling the wind on my face. I looked up at the rafters. I looked at the championship banners.
Tonight, we were going to hang another one.
The Game.
It was a war.
Minnesota was big, fast, and disciplined. They scored first, a lucky bounce off a skate in the first period.
We tied it in the second on a slapshot from Silas.
The third period was a grind. Bodies flying. Sticks hacking. The refs let us play.
With one minute left on the clock, the score was tied 2-2.
Coach Miller called a timeout.
We huddled at the bench. Sweat dripped off my nose. My lungs were burning, but it was a good burn. A clean burn.
"Vance line," Miller barked. "Get out there. Win the faceoff. Get it deep. Don't force it."
I nodded. I looked at Silas. I looked at Jax in the net.
"One minute," I said to them. "Sixty seconds. Leave it all out there."
We skated to center ice.
The crowd was deafening. They were chanting. LE-O! LE-O! LE-O!
I lined up for the faceoff. The Minnesota center glared at me. He was a big kid, mean.
I didn't glare back. I winked.
The ref dropped the puck.
I won it clean. Back to Silas.
Silas moved it up the ice. He dumped it into the corner.
I chased it.
I hit the boards hard, pinning the defenseman. The Wolf surged, giving me that extra burst of strength. I dug the puck out.
I spun. I saw a lane.
I didn't shoot. I saw the winger, a freshman named Davis, cutting toward the net.
Everyone expected me to shoot. I was the star. I was the draft pick.
I passed.
A perfect, saucer pass right onto Davis's tape.
He tapped it in.
The red light went on. The buzzer sounded.
GOAL.
The arena exploded.
Davis threw his arms up. The team swarmed him.
We won. 3-2. National Champions.
I stood at the blue line, watching the pileup. I felt a profound sense of peace wash over me.
I didn't need to be the hero. I just needed to be part of the pack.
Silas broke away from the pile and tackled me. "WE DID IT! WE DID IT, CAP!"
I laughed, hugging him back. "We did it, Si."
The handshake line. The trophy presentation. The confetti cannons blasting gold and black paper into the air.
I skated around the ice, holding the massive silver cup over my head. My arms shook, not from weakness, but from adrenaline.
I scanned the glass.
I found her.
She was standing right where we met—behind the penalty box. She was jumping up and down, hugging Harper.
I skated over.
I didn't stop at the glass. I climbed the boards.
"Leo!" she screamed, laughing. "What are you doing?"
I leaned over the glass, balancing precariously on my skates.
"Celebrating!" I yelled.
I grabbed her face and pulled her toward me.
I kissed her.
Confetti rained down around us. The crowd cheered. Cameras flashed.
But all I could feel was her lips. All I could smell was vanilla.
It was exactly like the first time I kissed her in the library—desperate and claiming—but this time, there was no fear. No hiding.
"I love you!" I shouted over the noise when I pulled back.
"I love you too, Champion!" she yelled back.
I dropped back onto the ice.
I took one last lap, waving to the fans.
I looked at the ice one last time. The scratches. The blood. The memories.
Goodbye, Blackwood.
I skated to the tunnel.
My life as a student was over.
My life as a man was just beginning.
Two Weeks Later. Graduation Day.
The quad was a sea of black gowns and square caps. It was hot—an unseasonably warm May day in Vermont.
I sat in the folding chair, sweating in my polyester gown. Silas was next to me, trying to balance a beach ball on his knees.
"If that ball hits the Dean," I whispered, "I'm not bailing you out."
"Relax, Dad," Silas whispered back. "It's graduation. Rules don't apply."
"Rules always apply," I said automatically. Then I smiled. "Actually, screw it. Hit him."
Silas snorted.
They called the names alphabetically. It took forever.
Finally. "Sterling, Maya."
I stood up. I didn't care that I was blocking the view of the people behind me.
I watched her walk across the stage.
She moved with grace, her baby bump hidden under the flowing gown. She shook the Dean's hand. She took her diploma.
She looked out at the crowd. She found me instantly.
She smiled. It was the smile of a woman who had walked through fire and come out holding a torch.
I cheered. Loudly. I let out a wolf-whistle that made the parents clutch their pearls.
"THAT'S MY WIFE!" I yelled. (We weren't married yet, but the ring was currently burning a hole in my pocket).
She laughed, blushing, and walked off stage.
A few minutes later. "Vance, Leo."
I walked up the stairs.
The Dean looked at me warily. He remembered the press conference.
"Congratulations, Mr. Vance," he said stiffly.
"Thanks, Dean," I said, shaking his hand. I leaned in. "By the way, your security system at the arena needs an upgrade. Side door. Just a tip."
He blinked.
I took my diploma.
I looked out at the crowd. I saw the teammates. I saw Harper snapping photos like a maniac. I saw Maya, standing by the side of the stage, clapping.
I raised the diploma in the air.
I walked down the stairs.
I didn't go back to my seat. I walked straight to Maya.
"We did it," I said, pulling off my cap. My hair was a mess.
"We did," she agreed, adjusting my tassel. "Bachelor of Arts and a National Championship. Not bad for a feral delinquent."
"Not bad for a neurotic cellist."
We laughed.
"Come on," she said, grabbing my hand. "Let's get out of here before Silas starts a riot."
We walked away from the ceremony. We walked past the library (where we first kissed). We walked past the arena (where we first fought). We walked past the bell tower (where we made the deal).
We walked to my truck.
It was packed. Boxes in the bed. Cello case in the back seat.
We were leaving for Detroit in the morning.
"You ready?" I asked, opening the door for her.
She paused, looking back at the campus. The stone buildings. The memories.
"It feels weird," she admitted. "Leaving."
"It's just a place, Maya," I said. "We're taking the best parts with us."
She looked at me. "You mean the diploma?"
"I mean us," I said. "And the peanut."
She smiled and climbed in.
I walked around to the driver's side.
I paused.
I looked at my reflection in the window.
Three years ago, I arrived here a boy terrified of his own shadow. Terrified of his blood.
Today, I was leaving as a man who knew exactly who he was.
I was a Wolf. I was a Father. I was a Partner.
And I wasn't afraid anymore.
I climbed in and started the engine.
"Where to?" Maya asked.
"Home," I said. "Wherever that is."
"As long as you're there," she said, resting her hand on my thigh. "It's home."
I put the truck in gear.
We drove out of Oakhaven, leaving the mountains behind, heading toward the horizon.
The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of gold and violet.
It was the end of the chapter.
But the book? The book was just getting good.