Page 40

Lucas

W hen I step into the locker room the air is electric. Most of the guys are already here, ditching backpacks and half-buttoned shirts in favor of cleats and uniforms. You’d think after a full day of exams we’d be dragging, but no. This? This is game day.

Our first tournament game. The opener, on our home turf.

And damn, do we look good.

“Bro.” Axel’s voice echoes from the end of the row as he holds up his new jersey. “Tell me this isn’t the slickest uniform you’ve ever worn.”

“No lies detected,” Bas mutters, buttoning his jersey.

The black fabric clings in all the right places, the navy threading catching the light and shimmering slightly. The emerald lettering reminds me of Rachel’s eyes and I wish I could see her face when she sees us step onto the field in her designs.

“Can you believe our girl designed these?” Liam asks.

“She redesigned the whole look?” Elliott asks from across the bench.

“Yep,” I say, already lacing my cleats. “Logo, uniforms, banners, mascot… basically everything.”

“A student did this?” Axel asks, eyebrows raised. “No way.”

“Way,” Derrick gruffs, dropping his gear bag onto the bench. “Why do you think the whole stadium has new everything?” he asks gesturing to the updated logo on the walls and floor.

“Dude,” Elliott breathes. “Look, she made Stanley hot.”

Liam snorts. “That she did. Bas and I are still mad she gave him more muscles than us.”

“Speak for yourself,” Bas laughs, flexing his muscles for effect. “She said my glutes are way better than Stans.”

A round of snickers bounce around the room. Ever since Trent was benched the vibe has been all adrenaline, no drama. The locker-room door bumps open and Coach Mace strides in, clipboard under one arm. His buzzed hair and sun-weathered face make him look more like a soldier than a coach.

“Nightclaws, eyes on me.” The chatter instantly dies. “First night of the tournament. Opening game. Our house. Know what that means?”

“We set the standard,” Bas answers for all of us, voice strong and sure.

“Exactly. Arcane Ridge walked in here thinking it’s just another tournament. You’re about to teach ’em otherwise,” he pauses, gaze sweeping our new digs. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. “New uniforms look sharp. Play sharper. Now move.”

As he heads for the tunnel, someone farther down the row mutters, “Crazy that Trent’s not here to see this.”

Silence flickers, then Elliott shrugs. “Team chemistry’s better without him.”

“Agreed,” Derrick growls.

I slap my glove against the palm of my hand, feeling my nervous energy reverberate through my bond with Rachel. She sends back a sense of pride and anticipation.

“Let’s win it for her,” I say.

Bas gives me a fist bump. “Let’s win it for us.”

We fall into the familiar pre-game cadence, stretching and warming up. I imagine Rachel’s jaw on the floor when she sees us out here in her uniform design and it spurs me on. The energy in the stands promises a good game.

The place is packed.

Bas jogs past me with a bat on his shoulder. “Stadium’s drooling over her designs.”

“Yeah, so is our girl,” I flash him my phone, opened to the group chat. On the screen is a picture she took of us stretching followed by like a dozen green and blue hearts.

“Damn, we could be on the cover of a sports magazine,” Bas says, wagging his brows.

“I must admit, my ass does look fantastic in these pants.”

Bas scoffs at my assessment.

“Barker! Rana! Dugout!” Coach barks from across the field, ending our conversation.

We make our way to the dugout and moments later the announcer comes over the speakers signaling the beginning of the game.

Coach Mace meets us at the top step, eyes flaring that familiar lion-gold, telling me he’s as fired up as we are. “Lock in, Nightclaws. Play your game. Make every moment count, every pitch, every swing. Nothing fancy, just ruthless execution of what we've practiced.”

Liam cracks his knuckles. Derrick rolls his shoulders until they pop. Bas punches the inside of his glove, and I bounce on my toes, swinging my arms, getting hyped up.

Dun-dun-duuun… The bass of the stadium's hype track rattles through the concrete as the PA system booms:

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 142nd annual Pacific North-West Shifter Collegiate Tournament! Opening on their home turf—yourrrr Eldergrove Nightclaws!”

The crowd detonates. Green and navy towels whirl like a storm.

“First up, on the mound— number forty-six, Liam Barker!”

Liam jogs out, cap low, jaw set. Wolf whistles rain from the student section.

“At first base— number eleven, Bas Rana!”

Bas waves a gloved hand, throwing in a gratuitous bicep flex, and a group of girls in row three practically faint. Rachel's laughter shoots down the bond filling me with a warm glowing feeling. Having her here watching, reacting in real time is like a shot of adrenaline.

“Behind the plate— lucky number seven, Derrick Ashford!”

D tips his mask, expression granite-serious until he turns towards the VIP box. A quick salute and a blown kiss, then he drops into his crouch.

“And at third— number sixty-four, Lucas Barker!”

That’s me .

I jog to my corner, blowing a kiss to my Moonbeam. The bond warms like the flush no doubt covering her cheeks right now.

Once all of our players have been announced it’s time for our competitors. Across the diamond, Arcane Ridge jogs into position. Their dark purple and silver uniforms sparkle under the lights, but they look dull compared to ours.

Ump settles behind Derrick. Liam toes the rubber. Bas flashes the infield sign, two quick taps, one closed fist.

We’ve got this.

When we're all in our places the first pitch flys.

Liam winds, uncoils, and the ball screams in. Perfect pitch, strike one.

Cheers explode. Pride surges through the bond so hard my chest aches.

The tournament has officially begun.

In the bottom of the second, Liam hits a line drive down center field, sliding into first just before the first baseman gets the ball. Bas is up to bat next and he waits for his pitch, getting two strikes and a ball before finally nailing the ball to left field. Elliott strikes out but Liam steals third. When D gets up to bat, the coward fucking vamp straight up hits him with the ball, walking him to first and Bas to second. He knows D’s a power hitter and didn’t want to risk him hitting it out of the park and getting three runs for it.

The next batter strikes out too, giving us two outs when I take the box with bases loaded. I swing hard, connecting with the tip of my bat, for a pop up foul ball. The next pitch goes the same. There’s no way I’m letting this fucker strike me out like the others. As long as I connect with the ball, we can keep doing this all day. Count Walk-ula must figure that out because his next pitch nails me in the fucking leg.

The crowd boos as I throw my bat to the side and jog to first, shaking my leg out.

“You gonna pitch tonight or just hand out charity walks?” Liam scoffs as he jogs home for our first run of the night.

Bases loaded yet again with two outs, Riley takes the box, tapping his foot with his bat before getting in his stance.

“Come on, Van Blair! Bring me home!” I holler from first.

He nods, lifts the bat, readying for his swing. And he misses.

Fuck!

Two more pitches and we’re back in the dugout getting our gloves to retake the field.

The next two innings go by in a flash of outs on both sides. We enter the fifth inning with only one run on the board. The only thing that makes up for this not being a complete blow out game is the fact that they can’t even make it to third, let alone home. Liam keeps their batters off guard, switching pitches from deadly fast to sweet curves, earning another satisfying groan for the Arcane Ridge dugout with yet another strike out. At the top of the next inning, Bas makes a killer catch resulting in an epic double play, getting two of the vamps out in one swift go.

Jordan Prowler, Trent’s replacement, gets a ground ball, throwing it to me with a precision Trent could never have performed.

Why the hell didn’t we move this guy up sooner?

I catch it, executing a lightning tag getting our third out of the sixth inning and the crowd goes wild. The bond lights up like a Christmas tree with Rachel’s pride and excitement and it makes it the best moment in my career so far. Feeling her exhilaration in the bond escalates my own and I lean into it, playing the game with an enthusiasm I don’t think I ever felt before her.

The Ravens come back in the top of the seventh, scoring their first run of the night. Liam sits an inning out to ice his shoulder and our backup pitcher, Blake Allen, can’t hold them off. He ends up walking the first two batters. Liam rips off the ice wrap, ready to storm the field when Allen throws the fatal pitch.

The batter hits it clear out to deep right field, nowhere near our man. By the time we get the ball and pass it to the bases, the first runner makes it home. We’ve got one on first and third when the next batter takes the box. The stadium goes silent as Allen winds up the pitch. I can practically feel Rachel chewing her bottom lip through the bond as the ball sails through the air.

The thwack of the bat making contact echos and the ball flies through the air, right to me. Diving to make the catch, I bare-hand the chopper, hurling it to D to tag out the vamp trying to steal home. With two outs and one still on base, Liam pauses play, taking over on the mound.

Liam comes out to a cacophony of cheers and Rachel’s amusement rings through the bond.

“Couldn’t even sit out a full inning, could ya?” Elliott chuckles from second base. At the same time I say, “What took you so long?”

“Sorry, Bro. Didn’t think you’d be stuck carrying the team for the whole inning. Good catch.” He nods his head toward me before turning to take his position on the mound, digging his cleats into the dirt.

Liam releases the pitch and spins, twisting his hand behind him. He pops up with his hand in the air and a cocky smirk on his face as he holds the ball up in an amazing move seconds after the ball leaves his hand. That’s going on his play compilation track for sure!

“Holy hell, Barker! How’d you do that?!” Van Blair yells over the sound of the crowd losing their minds.

We run to the sideline, and pile on Liam, clapping him on the back for that amazing play before getting in the dugout.

“Dude! Your reaction time is crazy!” Elliott cheers as he drops onto the bench.

“For real! I didn’t even know he hit the ball until you held it up like that. That was epic!” Prowler hoots.

Liam is all fucking smiles as he puts his batting helmet on and jogs out to another round of ruckus cheers. The pitcher winds up and lets loose the ball. Liam swings hard, nailing the fucker in the gut. The pitcher doubles over while Liam tosses his bat and runs for first.

“How’s it feel, blood sucker? You gonna start fucking pitching now and stop hitting my teammates?” Liam snaps from first as the ump checks on the wus vamp.

The entire dugout erupts in cheers until Coach gives us the stink eye. But he can’t stop the fans from cheering on Liam’s heroic act.

Bas takes the box next, hitting the first pitch, sending it to left field. Elliott hits two foul balls before walking to first. When D steps up to the plate everyone holds their breaths. Did the fucker learn his lesson form Liam or is he going to intentionally walk Derrick again?

He stares down D before finally nodding to the catcher and winding up the pitch. And D nails it! Smashing a two-run double off the wall. Liam and Bas both make it home before they get Elliott out at third.

The next batter gets on first then it’s my turn. I’m bringing D home this time. The pitch flies toward the plate and I swing, the bat connecting with a satisfying thwack. It sails through the air to center field, a perfect line drive. I run to first as Derrick runs home and Axel rounds second.

He’s not quick enough. He won’t make it.

Sure enough, the third baseman tags him out. Two outs. But three runs. That’s our best offensive inning so far.

Sadly, I don’t make it home. We get our final out with the first strike out of the inning and it’s back to defense. We go another inning with neither team scoring and we enter the top of the ninth 4-1. We just gotta hold them off one more time.

Liam’s arm is getting tired. He shouldn’t be pitching the entire game, but he’s a determined asshole and after what happened in the seventh when he tried to take a break… There’s no way he’s sitting out the fucking ninth.

After two foul balls, the Arcane batter finally gets a good hit. Too bad for him, it’s a pop up fly directly to Jordan. And Once again, he proves to be a better player than Trent when he actually catches the ball. Trent would have fumbled the fuck out of that.

“Whoo! Nice catch, Prowler!” I cheer, and I swear his face flushes at the compliment.

Liam strikes the next batter out but I can tell he’s almost done. One more out and we win this thing.

“Give ‘em a freebie. I’ll get him for ya!” I call to my twin letting him know it’s not on him to get this guy out.

Standing tall, he takes a deep breath, nodding his head once before he lets the ball fly. It’s a hard grounder down the line right at me. I scoop it and fire it across the field to Bas for the game-ending out.

We did it!

We won!

The bond goes crazy as does the stands as we converge on the mound, celebrating our win.

Coach Mace strides out, pride shining in his eyes. “That’s how you start a tournament, boys. Ice up, get some grub, and rest up, tomorrow we scout. Tournament’s ours to lose.”

When we get back in the locker room, I pull my phone out to find a new picture from Rachel. She, Helene, and the girls, all in glitter paint, hold up one finger cheering for our victory.