Page 65

Chapter

Forty-One

DMITRI

T he SUV idles in the arena parking lot like a ticking bomb. Through the tinted windows, I watch morning light reflect off the glass doors we're about to walk through. Doors that lead to Coach's office. To consequences we can't avoid any longer.

My hands rest loose on my thighs, but inside, every muscle coils like a fucking spring. The plan is established. Now we just have to follow it. The decision Jax, Zayn, Aidan and I made while Darren slept off his heat. If they try to bench him, we all walk. Simple. Clean.

Darren doesn't know. Can't know. He'd try to stop us, throw himself on his sword to save our careers. The stubborn omega still hasn't learned that pack means we rise or fall together.

But we'll just have to show him.

"We doing this or what?" Zayn asks from the driver's seat, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. The leather of his jacket creaks with each movement. He's a bundle of live wires.

"Give me a second," Darren mutters, staring at the arena like it might bite. The suppressants are back in his system, dulling his scent, but I still catch traces of woodsmoke anxiety bleeding through. "Just... processing."

Lexie's hand finds his, small fingers threading through his larger ones. "We're all here," she says simply. "Whatever happens."

She doesn't know the plan either. Couldn't risk her having to lie to Darren, to carry that burden. Better she finds out with everyone else.

"The longer we wait, the worse it gets," Jax says from the passenger seat. I hear the steel underneath his captain's voice. He's ready for war. We all are.

"I know." Darren takes a breath that shakes only slightly. "Okay. Let's get this shit over with."

We climb out in formation, five hockey players and one beta woman who belongs with us more than anyone else ever could. The morning air bites cold, carrying the smell of ice and industrial cleaner from the loading dock. Back to our home away from home. Maybe for the last time.

Aidan falls into step beside me, shoulders squared despite the bruises still coloring his knuckles. "You think he'll actually do it? Bench Darren?" he whispers, low enough so only I can hear.

"Maybe," I say quietly. "League pressure. Media storm. It's easier to sacrifice one than fight the system."

"Fuck the system," he mutters, and I feel a surge of pride. Our golden boy goalie, ready to burn it all down for pack. Good.

The security guard at the employee entrance does a double-take when he sees us. His eyes linger on Darren, on Lexie, on the way we move as a unit around them both. Instinct.

"Morning, boys," he says carefully. "Ms. Goodwin. Coach is expecting you."

Of course he is. He's probably been pacing his office since Vancouver, trying to figure out how to handle this clusterfuck. How to make it disappear.

He doesn't understand yet. Nothing disappears. You face it or it faces you.

The walk to Coach's office feels longer than usual. The corridors are empty when we wind through them. It's too early for most staff, too late for night security. Just us and the awareness of what's coming.

"Stop looking like you're heading to your execution," Lexie says, bumping Darren's shoulder. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I lied," he says flatly. "Hid my designation. Put the team at risk?—"

"Bullshit," Zayn cuts in. "It's not in the bylaws you have to disclose status after a change. Not your fault they just assumed an omega couldn't play."

Darren's jaw tightens, but he doesn't argue. Can't argue with Zayn when he's right.

Mitchell's door looms ahead, solid wood with his nameplate gleaming. Twenty years of coaching. Three championships. About to potentially lose his entire starting line.

He doesn't know that yet either.

Jax knocks, the sound like gunshots in the quiet hallway.

"Come in."

Mitchell sits behind his desk, and fuck me if he doesn't look like he's aged five years since Vancouver. Gray stubble shadows his jaw. His usually crisp shirt wrinkles at the elbows. Empty coffee cups form a fortress around his computer.

His eyes track us as we file in. Darren first, then Lexie, then the rest of us arranging ourselves like a wall between them and the door.

"Sit," he says, gesturing at chairs that couldn't possibly hold us all.

"We'll stand," Jax replies. Not defiance. Fact.

Mitchell's jaw works like he's chewing words before spitting them out. "Do you have any fucking idea what I've been dealing with? The calls? The emails? Every tabloid from here to Moscow running stories about—" He cuts himself off, eyes landing on Darren. "About your situation ."

"It's my responsibility," Darren says before anyone else can speak. "I made the choice to hide it. To keep playing. The team shouldn't?—"

"That's bullshit," Zayn snaps, and I see Mitchell's eyebrows rise at the vehemence in his tone. "It was our choice, too. We all knew as soon as you did."

"Copeland's right," I add, keeping my voice level. "Pack decision. Pack consequences."

Mitchell's laugh sounds like breaking glass. "Pack? This isn't about your living arrangements, Vinogradov. This is about the integrity of the league. About rules and regulations?—"

"What rules?" Aidan interrupts, surprising everyone with his sudden fierceness. "Show me the rule that says omegas can't play. Show me where it's written that Darren did anything wrong besides keep doing his job."

The room falls silent. Mitchell's face cycles through red to purple to something approaching gray.

"The rules ," he grits out, "are about disclosure. About safety. About?—"

"About covering the league's ass," Jax says quietly, his voice no less sharp for not shouting.

His voice at its most dangerous, just shy of a bark.

"We all know what this is really about, Coach.

It's not about safety or integrity. It's about image.

About sponsors getting nervous and fans clutching their pearls because an omega dared to excel at an alpha's game. "

Mitchell's hand slams on the desk, making Lexie flinch. I shift slightly, putting myself between her and any potential threat.

"You want to talk about image?" Mitchell snaps. "How about McKinney nearly killing a man on ice? How about the entire country watching one of my players go into heat during a game?"

"If you force Darren out," Jax says, cutting through the tirade, "we all walk."

The words land like a bomb in the small office. Mitchell freezes mid-gesture. Darren whips around to stare at Jax. Even Lexie's breath catches.

"What?" Mitchell's voice comes out strangled.

"You heard me." Jax stands straighter, every inch the captain. "Darren is the best defenseman in this league. If you bench him because of his designation, we all walk. Today."

"That's—" Darren starts, but I put a hand on his shoulder.

“Decided,” I tell him. “Before we came here. Pack stands together. Always.”

"You can't be fucking serious," Mitchell breathes. "What about your contracts?"

"They'll be tied up in legal battles for years," Zayn says cheerfully. "Imagine those headlines. ' Entire starting line quits rather than play for discriminatory league .' The sponsors will love that."

"This is ridiculous," Darren protests, trying to shake off my hand. "You can't throw away your careers for?—"

"For pack?" Aidan asks. "Yeah, we can. And we will."

Mitchell looks between us like we've all grown second heads. His mouth opens and closes, no words emerging. Finally, he sputters, "What about Vancouver? McKinney assaulted?—"

"An alpha who lost control and charged at an omega in heat," Lexie interrupts, and every head swivels to her.

She stands straight despite being dwarfed by hockey players, chin raised.

"I may not be an expert in hockey, but isn't it a bit backwards to penalize the player who was attacked rather than the one who couldn't control himself? "

The corner of Jax's mouth ticks up. "The lady makes an excellent point."

"Morris went feral," I add. "Every camera caught it. Everyone saw what happened with their own eyes. Aidan defended our packmate."

Mitchell slumps in his chair like someone cut his strings. He looks older suddenly, exhausted. "The league isn't going to like this."

"Tough shit," Zayn says. "It's about time the league changed."

"You're serious." It's not a question. Mitchell's eyes move across our faces, searching for cracks. "You'll all walk if I bench Malloy."

"In a heartbeat," I confirm.

"Without hesitation," Aidan adds.

"Already got my resignation letter typed up," Zayn lies cheerfully.

Jax just nods, and somehow that carries more meaning than all our words combined.

Mitchell drags both hands down his face. When he looks up again, there’s a hint of resignation there. Respect, too.

"Fuck," he mutters. "Twenty years of coaching and I've never..." He shakes his head. "The board's going to crucify me."

" Or ," Lexie suggests, "they're going to realize they have a chance to make history. The first openly omega player in the NHL. The first pack to stand together against discrimination. The first franchise to say talent matters more than designation."

"You've got a marketer's brain," Mitchell tells her dryly.

"I run a business," she replies. "I know opportunity when I see it."

Another long silence. I can hear the building's ventilation system, the distant sound of someone running equipment in the rink. The normal sounds of a normal day that's anything but.

"I need time," Mitchell finally says. "To talk to the board. To figure out how to spin this."

"Darren plays or we don't," Jax states. Not a question.

"I'll do what I can," Mitchell says with a sigh. "I'll contact the league, let them knot your terms. But the rest is out of my hands."

"Thank you," Darren says, looking completely shellshocked. I can't help but be afraid he's upset we didn't tell him, but we weren't going to let him sacrifice everything he's worked for just so we could keep playing.

We file out in reverse order. Lexie first, then Darren, then the rest of us. Nobody speaks until we're back in the hallway with the door closed behind us.

"What the fuck just happened?" Darren demands, spinning to face us. "You were going to quit? All of you?"

"Yes," Jax says simply.

"That's insane. You can't just?—"

“Pack,” I interrupt. “Pack means pack. You fall, we fall. You rise, we rise. Simple.”

"It's not simple! Your careers?—"

"Mean shit without you," Zayn finishes. "So stop being so stubborn and just shut up and accept it."

Darren looks between us, mouth opening and closing. Finally, his gaze lands on Lexie. "Did you know?"

"No," she says, a glimmer in her eyes. "But I'm not surprised."

"I..." Darren's voice cracks. "I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything yet," Aidan says with a chuckle. "We still don't know if we have jobs yet."

"You're all insane," Darren mutters, but his eyes are bright. "Completely fucking insane."

"Yes," I agree. "But we are your kind of insane."

"Yeah," Darren says with a resigned sigh. "I guess you are."

I smile. Coming from our very unconventional omega, that's high praise, indeed.