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Chapter forty-five

Ryann

Wesley turns us, and I see the whole hockey team in front of me. They are still in their uniforms, no helmets on, but they all have sticks, and those sticks are thumping, thumping into the ice. They are mad. I can feel it in the way they are moving.

I find Wren first, his expression fierce, and then Raider, who doesn’t look good. He’s leaning on his stick and sweating profusely. But he still slams that stick down. Waraski is by his side, and Bruce, Sellars, and a few others I recognise as part of the Demon’s defense.

The sound of the clacking of their sticks hitting the ice echoes around the stadium. I swear, my heart is beating in time. I get shivers and feel awe rise.

This is what my dad loved about the game. Creating a family unit from kids who have nothing. A bond that’s forged on the skates and that lasts forever.

Raider lifts his gaze, fury in every line of his body.

Wren looks decidedly feral as he calls out a nonsense word.

With no clear sign, the team split, and split again, flying across the ice, zigzagging from side to side.

“Stop it!” Wesley shouts. “I know all your moves! Fucking stop it or I’ll-”

He hisses in fury and tightens his hold on me.

Ramirez, the Greene Demons captain, shouts something, and, all of a sudden, everyone stops. With another random word called by Inman, they start to circle, sticks hit ice, the boards, other sticks, still beating in time to that heartbeat. The one that was in my dad and uncle, that’s in Raider and Wren and in me, too.

The love of the game .

The love of hockey.

The heartbeat of the team is the heartbeat booming in my ears.

Kit scrambles onto the ice, slipping and sliding, but he suddenly upends a bucket, and pucks go flying across the ice. They’re swept up instantly by the players, disappearing into the whirling maelstrom of aggression.

“If they come and try to take you, I’ll kill us both,” Wesley whispers in my ear.

Oh, I bet he would!

Well, that’s just depressing. But did he think I was just going to go quietly? He’s nervous, I can see it in the whites of his eyes and the way his voice is pitched slightly higher.

I’m going to wait for the perfect moment, and then I’ll attack.

There are twenty-two players on the ice with weapons that can break bones, and they are directing all their rage at him. I would be scared if I were him. The fact that they are moving as one, anticipating each other, helping each other, is more frightening. Raider isn’t moving as quick, but he’s there, too, being protected and buoyed by the others.

Clack.

Clack.

Clack.

I look to the sides and see a man in leather who looks exactly like Raider. He slams his hands on the boards with each crack of the sticks. No, not just him, more than him. I look around and find the ice ringed with leather-wearing bikers.

A laughing sob escapes me.

Kelly really came through. If I survive this, I’m going to make it my life’s mission to get Kelly and Raider talking again.

Wesley spits a curse and drags out a big hunting knife that immediately has me rolling my eyes because, obviously, someone is compensating.

My fear has sunk into a distant part of me because they are here. They came for me. I can’t stop staring at them, even though I know I need to focus on Wesley.

He presses the edge of the blade to my neck, and I drag my eyes from the team and focus on him. The knife bites into my skin, and I feel a trickle of warmth run down my neck.

“You’re mine, now and forever. Tell them to get back or I’ll end it here on the ice you have yearned for.”

It is so horrific that he knows me as well as he does. It’s invasive and deeply threatening. I’m sick of him and sick of living like this.

I look back at them, and I shake my head. They won’t go, and I won’t tell them to.

“You’re going to refuse? We’re going to make our stand here on the ice, then? You and I forever?”

I freeze as the blade bites into my throat. More blood runs, but I ignore it .

“LIFT THAT KNIFE OFF THE BETA!” Callan roars.

The power of the bark hits into us, and Wesley instantly tenses, attempting to fight it but unable to resist.

How strong is Callan’s bark? I’ve never seen anyone bark at a distance before, I didn’t even know it was possible.

Focus, Ryann.

I just need a moment.

“Wesley, did you ever have a moment when you thought, hmm, maybe I should stop?”

“No, not once in all these years. We have a blessed future ahead of us in this world or the next,” he murmurs and nuzzles my face.

I feel sick, but I don’t allow myself to react at all. His arms around me tighten, dragging me closer. The knife drags against my waist absently, and I let out a cry that is mostly feigned.

He lifts it. I turn my face towards his, staring at his thin lips.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

Confusion crosses his face.

“I’ve never had anyone care enough about me to get to know me so well, and you have proven your dedication. Maybe I was confused?”

He dips his lips, but I twist and punch my knee up. I don’t get him in the groin but the inner thigh with enough force that he staggers back, slipping on the ice and falls.

Unfortunately for me, he catches the goal posts. I take a step and fall. Twenty-two hockey players are sprinting towards us, but they might not be fast enough.

He lunges, throwing himself at me. I spin, kicking out and frantically army crawling away from him.

Wesley roars and manages to catch my ankle, dragging me back towards him. I throw myself onto my back and kick out with my other foot, hitting him smack in the face.

“You bitch!” he hisses and raises the blade. I can see the end of my life and the start of it. All the seconds that have passed, the pain and loneliness, the joy and love. I see it all as that blade descends.

It’s over.

I’m sorry.

I would have loved a life with you.

But then a hockey stick cuts between us with bone breaking force. I hear the sound as it collides with Wes’ knife. The blade goes flying, and I’m showered with ice as Inman, the team’s fastest player, gets out of the way.

I look up to see Wren with his hockey stick raised like a baseball bat. He brings it around and down. He’s still coming towards us at breakneck speed .

I roll towards the goal net, getting safely inside it.

CRACK.

Wesley cries out, but then he’s hit again and again. Sellars and Bruce fish me out of the goal net and escort me away from the mass of maddened hockey players.

I see Kit and Callan almost vibrating on the other side of the boards, and as soon as I get close, I’m pulled into their arms.

“Go get Raider,” Callan says to Bruce.

I think maybe I should be crying or sad or something, but I just feel numb. I think it’s delayed. It will probably knock me on my ass later. I blink a lot, but my eyes keep filling with tears, and I just keep wiping them away.

Kit holds me tight, glaring at anyone who comes close.

A man who looks like Raider walks up and stops with his hands in his pockets.

“Bailey?” I ask nervously.

He smiles, this lopsided, naughty boy smile that makes me a little bit nervous.

“Allow me to take out the trash. My welcome-to-the-family gift to you.”

I blink, but he simply gestures to an older guy who strokes his beard and looks back at the ice.

“Can I have one of those sticks? I totally underestimated how much damage you could do with one.”

“Sure,” Bruce says and throws one to the old biker. “This is one of Raider’s sticks.”

“Sweet.” The older biker purrs and takes a practice swing.

“Dad, knock it off,” Bailey hisses.

I look between them wide-eyed. Dad?

“This is Anderson, who goes by Andy or Brutus.”

He does not look like a Brutus at all. He looks like the kind of guy who likes to laugh, who would be there with a hand on your shoulder if you needed to to talk. He reminds me of my dad.

Bailey whistles. “Bring him here, boys.”

The hockey players circle, their sticks high. They move towards us, and then Wesley is dumped at my feet.

I stare down at the man who is responsible for my parents’ deaths, for my terror for years, and I feel nothing. Not anger, no sadness, not hate. I simply don’t care about him anymore.

I have what I need.

Andy puts a hand down on Wesley’s back and hoists him up. I stare into his blood-soaked, swollen face .

“Come on, son. We gotta have a chat about how we treat women. Whether they are omegas or betas, they are all deserving of love and respect.”

“Except your wife, Sciarco. She’s fucking feral.”

The guys laugh as they disappear.

Bailey pats my head and dodges the half-hearted swipe from Raider.

“Cousin,” Bailey whines. “We’re supposed to be friends.” He pauses and glances at Kit. “I have a Freddie Sanders that I’m taking with me as well, a parting gift from your friendly neighbourhood surfer, Kelly Fucking Raines. You don’t need to worry about him ever again, he’ll be taken care of.”

Bailey holds out his fist. Kit cautiously fist bumps him.

I’m not really paying attention. I check Wren and then Raider, looking between them.

“Thank you!” I say over and over to the team.

Yarek ruffles my hair. “Our pleasure.”

Raider ignores him, instead focusing on me and stumbling forward. His leg collapses, but the team is there holding him up. Ramirez issues orders, and, as one, the team turns and starts back towards the rooms. I’m dragged into the middle of the mass.

I glance back and see a man in a suit standing on the other side of the ice staring at us. Whoever he is, he’s incredibly dangerous.

“Who is that?” I murmur.

Bailey puts a hand on my shoulder. “He’s here for me. Pretend you can’t see him. It makes him really mad, and he’s much cuter when he’s angry.”

I close my mouth and decide I don’t want to know.

We get down to the locker rooms, and the guys start pulling off skates. Callan and Kit protectively flank me, but that’s when I notice Callan’s bleeding knuckles and Kit’s face.

“What happened?”

Kit smiles and shakes his head. “We’re fine.”

He makes a move towards me but stops, cocking his head and focusing on the wall of death that is Wren as he approaches.

Wren sweeps me up and presses me gently against the wall.

“For everyone’s information,” Bailey shouts out. “I slept with the hot actress. Not Raider. Now, family, I will see you at the next country hoe-down.”

“It’s not a fucking hoe-down, you idiot!” Raider growls. “Horse farm!”

“Or if you need more help.” Bailey blows a kiss Raiders’ way, lifts a hand in the air, and walks out to the roar of cheers from the hockey team.

A minute later, the cops rush in. “What the fuck are you guys doing? The fire alarm is going off. Get your butts outside! ”

I get the giggles, and I can’t really stop, not until Raider collapses. It's sudden, and when he starts to shake, I know it’s bad. Wren lets go of me and flies across the space, dropping to his knees, holding Raider’s head in his lap.

I turn to Ramirez. “Call an ambulance! What’s wrong with him? Raider! Raider wake up!” I cry out.

I step closer, but the mass of bodies cuts off my vision, and Callan has an iron grip on my wrist.

“We need an ambulance!” I repeat.

“There are paramedics outside. We just need to get him there!” Ramirez says tersely.

“Raider!” I shout, but Kit holds me back as Bruce, Yarek, and Ramirez get him up and carry him at a run.

“Come on,” Callan says and grabs my hand.

I follow with my heart in my throat.