Chapter 15
Stan
The world looked different when you weren't fighting it.
I stood on the balcony of the "Sky Lounge," the rooftop bar of the fanciest hotel in Grizzly Ridge. It was technically off-limits to students, but when you’re the Captain of the Kodiaks and your family has donated half the endowment, rules become suggestions.
The air was crisp, smelling of pine and snow, but under the heat lamps, it was comfortable.
I looked at Rachel.
She was leaning against the railing, looking out at the mountains. She wore a black dress that hugged every curve I had memorized, her hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She held a glass of champagne, the bubbles catching the light.
She looked like royalty.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked, stepping up behind her. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her back against my chest.
She leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder.
"I'm thinking about Detroit," she said softly.
"Detroit?"
"Yeah. If the Red Wings draft you. I looked it up. They have a great medical center. I could do my residency there."
My heart squeezed. Detroit. Residency. Us.
"You looked it up?" I murmured into her hair.
"I like to be prepared," she said. "And... I like the idea of us in a city where nobody knows your dad. Where nobody cares about bloodlines. Just... Stan and Rachel."
"Stan and Rachel," I repeated. "And Killer the dog."
She laughed. "Fluffy. The dog's name is Fluffy."
I turned her around in my arms. Her eyes were shining. She looked happy. Genuinely, deeply happy. The shadows under her eyes were gone. The tension that she usually carried in her shoulders had melted away.
"I have something for you," I said.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
Rachel’s eyes widened. She went pale. "Stan... we talked about this. No rings yet."
"It's not a ring," I promised. "Open it."
She took the box with trembling hands. She opened it.
Inside, on a bed of black velvet, lay a simple silver chain. Hanging from it was a small pendant. It looked like a piece of rough, uncut amber.
"It's beautiful," she whispered. "What is it?"
"It's a piece of raw amber," I said. "From the Carpathian Mountains. My grandfather brought it over. It's supposed to represent... clarity. Vision."
I took the necklace from the box and fastened it around her neck. The amber rested in the hollow of her throat, right over her pulse.
"It matches your eyes," she said, touching it.
"It matches my soul," I corrected, half-joking, half-serious. "When I look at you, Rachel... everything is clear. You are my clarity."
She looked up at me. Tears swam in her eyes.
"I love you, Stasiu," she whispered.
"I love you," I said. "More than hockey. More than breathing."
I kissed her.
It was a kiss that tasted like champagne and forever. Under the stars, with the mountains watching, I felt untouchable. I felt like the hero of my own story, not the villain.
We left the bar an hour later, floating on a cloud of euphoria.
"My place?" I suggested as we walked to my truck.
"Your place," she agreed. "But I have to stop by the dorm first. I forgot my laptop charger. And if we're going to have a 'study session' later..."
She winked.
"Study session," I groaned. "You're insatiable."
"I learned from the best."
I drove her to the dorms. I parked in the loading zone, keeping the engine running.
"Five minutes," she promised. "Don't go anywhere."
"I'll be right here."
I watched her run into the building. My girl. My mate.
I leaned back in the seat, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. I turned on the radio. Some classic rock song was playing.
Life is good.
My phone buzzed in the cup holder.
I glanced at it.
Coach Wolfowitz.
I frowned. It was 10:30 PM on a Friday. Coach never texted this late unless someone was dead or in jail.
I picked up the phone.
Wolfowitz: Where are you?
Me: Dorms. Picked up Rachel. Why?
Wolfowitz: Get to my office. Now. Alone.
Me: Can it wait until morning? We have plans.
Wolfowitz: No. It cannot wait. Your father is here. And he brought the High Council Enforcer.
My blood ran cold.
The High Council. Enforcer.
That wasn't a disciplinary meeting. That was a tribunal.
Me: What happened?
Wolfowitz: Just get here, Stan. Before they decide to come find you.
I stared at the screen. The euphoria evaporated, replaced by the cold, hard weight of dread.
I looked at the dorm entrance. Rachel wasn't back yet.
I couldn't drag her into this. If the Enforcer was here... if they were discussing Pack law... having a human present would be a death sentence.
I had to go alone. I had to face them, take the heat, and protect her.
I texted Rachel.
Me: Emergency team meeting. Coach is freaking out about defense. I have to go. I'll call you in an hour. Love you.
I lied. Again.
I put the truck in gear and peeled out of the lot, driving toward the arena like the devil himself was chasing me.
The arena was dark when I arrived. Only the security lights were on.
I walked down the tunnel, my footsteps echoing on the concrete. The smell of the ice usually calmed me. Tonight, it smelled like a tomb.
I reached Coach's office. The lights were on inside.
I took a deep breath. I pushed the door open.
The room was crowded.
Coach Wolfowitz was behind his desk, looking pale and angry. My father was standing by the window, his back to me.
And sitting in the guest chair, looking like he owned the place, was a man I didn't recognize. He was huge—bigger than me. He wore a black suit that strained against his shoulders. He had a shaved head and eyes that were completely, unnaturally black.
The Enforcer.
"Sit down, boy," the Enforcer said. His voice sounded like rocks grinding together.
I didn't sit. I stood my ground.
"What is this?" I demanded. "Why are you here?"
"We are here because you have broken the First Law," my father said, turning around. He looked tired. Defeated. "You have exposed us."
"I haven't exposed anything," I argued. "I'm dating a girl. That's not a crime."
The Enforcer laughed. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a manila envelope. He tossed it onto the desk.
"Dating is one thing," the Enforcer said. "But this... this is exposure."
I walked over and opened the envelope.
I pulled out the photos.
My hands started to shake.
They were photos of me and Rachel. Not the blurry security camera ones. These were high-definition. Long lens.
Me and Rachel in the car, kissing.
Me and Rachel at the cabin, walking out in the morning, her wearing my shirt.
Me and Rachel in the library, my hand on her knee.
And then, the last one.
A photo of me on the ice. The Denver game. The moment after the hit.
But the photo wasn't normal. It had been enhanced. Zoomed in.
My eyes were glowing gold. My teeth were bared.
"Where did you get these?" I whispered.
"They were sent to the Dean," the Enforcer said. "And to the NCAA ethics committee. And to TMZ."
My world stopped spinning. It just... ended.
"TMZ?"
"We intercepted them," Wolfowitz cut in quickly. "My contacts in the administration flagged the email before it went public. We scrubbed the server. The photos haven't been released."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Okay. So... we're safe."
"No," the Enforcer said. "You are not safe. Because the source of the leak... is still active."
He stood up. He walked over to me. He smelled of old blood and death.
"Who sent them?" I asked. "Vance? The Bear?"
The Enforcer smirked. "No. Not a Bear. The email originated from a student account. An IP address registered to the dorms."
He pulled out a piece of paper. A printout of an email header.
From: [email protected]
Subject: The Truth About the Kodiaks
I stared at the paper.
r.miller.
Rachel.
"No," I said. "This is fake. This is a setup."
"Is it?" My father stepped forward. "Stanley, look at the timestamps. Look at the angles. These photos were taken from close range. Intimate range. Who else had access to you like this? Who else was in your car? In your house?"
"She wouldn't," I said. "She loves me."
"Does she?" The Enforcer asked. "Or does she love the story? Or the money? We checked her financials. Her family is drowning in debt. The hardware store is in foreclosure."
I blinked. She had told me her parents were struggling. She hadn't told me about the foreclosure.
"She was desperate," my father said softly. "And you were an easy target. A rich, unstable boy with a secret worth millions."
"She sold you out, son," Wolfowitz said heavily. "I'm sorry."
"You're lying!" I shouted. I crumbled the paper in my fist. "She wouldn't do this! I know her!"
"Do you?" The Enforcer asked. "Or do you just know the scent she wears to mask her intentions?"
He leaned in close.
"Here is the reality, Beta. She tried to expose the Pack. That is treason. The punishment for treason is death."
I went rigid. "You touch her, I kill you."
"I don't have to touch her," the Enforcer said. "Because we have a deal for you."
"What deal?"
"You break it off," the Enforcer said. "Tonight. Publicly. Cruelly. You destroy her credibility so that if she tries to release these photos again, she looks like a bitter, crazy ex-girlfriend. You make her look insane. You make her leave this school."
"And if I don't?"
"If you don't," the Enforcer smiled, "then I pay her a visit tonight. And it won't be for a conversation."
I looked at Wolfowitz. He looked away, ashamed.
I looked at my father. He nodded slowly. Do it. Save her.
I looked at the photos in my hand. The evidence of my happiness. Now twisted into a noose.
I thought about the foreclosure. I thought about how she hesitated when I asked about her future. I thought about how easy it had been for her to get into my life.
Was it all a lie?
The doubt was a poison. It seeped into my veins, mixing with the fear.
But even if it wasn't a lie... even if she was innocent and this was a frame-up... I couldn't risk it. If the Enforcer went to her dorm...
She would die.
I had to save her.
And the only way to save her was to destroy her.
"Fine," I whispered. My voice sounded dead. "I'll do it."
"Good," the Enforcer said. "Do it now. She's waiting for you, isn't she?"
"Yes."
"Go to her. End it. Make sure she hates you. Make sure she runs."
I turned and walked out of the office.
I walked down the tunnel. The ice seemed to mock me. The Butcher, it whispered. You really are a butcher.
I got into my truck. I drove back to the dorms.
Rachel was standing on the curb, shivering in her black dress. She smiled when she saw my truck. She waved.
I pulled up. I unlocked the door.
She climbed in, bringing the scent of vanilla and cold air with her.
"Hey," she said, leaning over to kiss my cheek. "Everything okay? What did Coach want?"
I didn't look at her. I stared straight ahead at the brick wall of the dorm.
"Get out," I said.
She froze. "What?"
"Get out of my truck, Rachel."
"Stan... what's wrong? You're scaring me."
I turned to look at her. I let the Wolf come to the surface. I let the amber burn hot and cold. I let the cruelty I had inherited from my father fill my face.
"I'm done," I said. "The game is over."
"Game?" She laughed nervously. "What game?"
"This," I gestured between us. "You. Me. The charity case."
Her face went pale. "Charity case?"
"Did you really think I loved you?" I laughed. It was a harsh, jagged sound. "Rachel, look at you. And look at me. You were a project. A way to pass my classes. A way to fix my shoulder."
"Stop it," she whispered. Tears filled her eyes. "You're lying. You told me you loved me an hour ago."
"I lied," I said. "I'm good at lying. It's part of the hunt."
I leaned closer, making my voice a weapon.
"You were just a warm hole for the winter, Rachel. That's all. And now... I'm bored."
The slap was instant.
Her hand connected with my cheek. Hard. It stung.
"You bastard," she sobbed. "You absolute monster."
"Finally," I said coldly. "You see me."
I reached across her and opened the passenger door.
"Get out. Before I decide to charge you for the ride."
She scrambled out of the truck, stumbling on the curb. She stood there, sobbing, clutching her chest where the amber necklace lay.
She ripped the necklace off. She threw it at me. It hit my chest and fell into the footwell.
"I hate you!" she screamed. "I hate you, Stan Kowalski!"
"Good," I whispered.
I slammed the door. I put the truck in gear and drove away.
I watched her in the rearview mirror. A small, black figure collapsing on the sidewalk.
I drove until I was off campus. I drove until I was on the highway.
Then I pulled over.
I leaned my head against the steering wheel.
I screamed.
I screamed until my throat bled. I screamed until the windows shook.
I had saved her life.
And I had killed myself.