Page 67

Chapter

Forty-Three

DARREN

T he letter feels like it weighs a thousand pounds in my hands. The official league seal stares up at me, practically glaring. My throat's so tight I can barely swallow, and it's got nothing to do with the suppressants I'm back on.

This piece of paper holds the power to destroy everything.

Not just my career, either. I already made peace with that possibility the moment Morris outed me on the ice, but the fact that my pack could suffer because of me…

The idiots who just told Coach Mitchell they'd walk away from everything they've worked for if I can't play.

I look around at them, these five people who've decided I'm worth burning their futures for. The alphas and Lexie, our beautiful beta who shouldn't even be mixed up in this mess but chose to stand with us anyway.

"I need you all to know something before I open this."

"Darren—" Jax starts, but I hold up my hand.

"No, let me say this." I set the letter down, still unopened, because I need them to understand.

"What you did in Mitchell's office, what you were willing to do.

.. I've never had anyone stand up for me like that.

Never. And I'm grateful, more grateful than you'll ever know. But I can't let you do it."

Zayn's eyes narrow. "The fuck you can't."

"Whatever this letter says," I continue, ignoring him, "I want you to keep playing. Even if I can't be out there with you. You've worked too hard, sacrificed too much?—"

" We've sacrificed?" Aidan interrupts, and there's an edge to his voice I rarely hear. "You've been pumping yourself full of suppressants for months, hiding who you are, fighting your own biology every single day just to stay on the ice."

"That's different," I insist. "That was my choice. My risk to take."

"And this is ours," Dmitri says simply. "Pack chooses its fate together."

"You don't understand." The frustration bleeds into my voice. "I can live with losing hockey. It would suck, but I could survive it. What I can't live with is being the reason you all lose it too."

They exchange one of those looks. The kind that says they're having a whole conversation without me, which is really fucking annoying when I'm trying to save their careers here.

"You still don't get it," Jax says, shaking his head. "We meant what we said. If you're not on the ice with us, we're not going out there. Period."

"That's—"

"Non-negotiable," Zayn cuts in. "So you can either accept that we're in this together, as a team and as a fucking pack, or we can sit here arguing about it until the letter spontaneously combusts. Your choice."

Lexie's hand finds mine, a gesture so natural I wonder often how I ever lived without it. "They're right," she says softly. "This is what pack means. You stand together or you don't stand at all. You taught me that."

I look down at our joined hands, at the way her smaller fingers fit perfectly with mine. Three months ago, I didn't even know she existed. Now I can't imagine facing any of this without her. Without any of them.

"You're all crazy," I mutter.

"Water finds its level," Zayn chimes in, earning a half-hearted glare from yours truly.

"Fine." I pick up the letter again, my pulse hammering so hard I'm surprised they can't all hear it. "But when this says I'm banned for life and you're all blacklisted for supporting me?—"

"Then we'll start our own league," Aidan says cheerfully. "The ' Fuck Your Designation Hockey League. ' It'll be great."

Despite everything, I laugh. Leave it to our murder puppy goalie to find the bright side of potential career destruction.

"Here goes nothing," I mutter, sliding my finger under the seal.

The paper unfolds with a crisp sound that grates on my already wound nerves. Even Jax stops pacing. I force my eyes to focus on the typed words, trying to make out the formal language through the panic clouding my brain.

"Darren," Jax prompts after what feels like hours. "What does it say?"

I read it again, sure I must be misunderstanding. But no, the words are clear. Holy shit.

"Don't leave us in suspense," Zayn demands. "Are we employed or starting a revolution?"

"They're..." I have to clear my throat because the words don't want to come out. Like saying them might make them disappear. "They're going to let me play. Next game."

The room explodes.

Aidan lets out a whoop that probably shatters windows three houses over. Dmitri's grin is so wide it looks like it might crack his face. The biggest smile I've ever seen from him. Zayn fist pumps the air, and even our calm and collected leader's shoulders drop about six inches in relief.

And Lexie, my brilliant, beautiful Lexie, launches herself at me.

I catch her on instinct, holding her tight as she wraps her arms around my neck. Her kiss tastes like victory and relief. When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard and grinning like idiots.

"I knew it," she says, her eyes bright. "I knew they couldn't keep you off the ice."

"Wait." Zayn's voice cuts through the celebration like a bucket of cold water. "What do you mean 'next game'? Why specifically next game?"

The grin slides off my face. Right. The catch. Because there's always a fucking catch.

I hand him the letter, not trusting myself to explain without my voice betraying how much this pisses me off. His eyes scan the page, his expression darkening with each line.

"Probation period?" He looks up, incredulous. "They're putting you on fucking probation?"

"What?" Aidan snatches the letter, reading over Zayn's shoulder. "This is bullshit. You've been playing as an omega this whole time and they just didn't know it. They already know how you play."

"It's not about his playing," Dmitri grumbles, crossing his massive arms. "It's about how the fans react."

"That's exactly what it is," Lexie agrees, but there's an edge in her voice that makes me look at her more closely. She's got that expression she gets when she's planning something. "Which is actually perfect."

"Perfect?" I stare at her. "How is me being on probation like some rookie who can't keep his gloves on perfect?"

"Because." She pulls out her phone, scrolling through before turning the screen toward us. "Look at this."

It's a social media feed, and at first I don't understand what I'm looking at. Then I see the hashtag.

#LetDarrenPlay.

Post after post, thousands of them. Fan art of me in my jersey with the omega symbol stretched across my chest like it's something I want to display rather than something I've spent week after week hiding.

Photos from games with captions about how my designation doesn't change my stats. A petition with?—

"Two hundred thousand signatures?" My voice cracks like I'm going through puberty again.

"Two hundred and thirty-seven thousand as of an hour ago," Lexie corrects, looking pleased with herself. "Jessica showed me earlier. The support is already there, Darren. This probation period? They might have meant it as a punishment, but we're going to turn it into an opportunity."

"An opportunity for what?" Though I'm starting to suspect I know where she's going with this.

"To show them they made the right choice. To prove that the only thing that matters on the ice is how you play, not what your designation is." She's practically bouncing now, reminding me of Aidan when he gets excited. "And I have a surprise that might help."

"What kind of surprise?" I ask with a laugh. This woman is full of them. And here I used to not like surprises.

I guess they just needed to come in Lexie flavor.

The grin that spreads across her face is pure mischief. "Not telling. You'll just have to wait and see at the game."

"Lexie—"

"Nope." She mimes zipping her lips. "My lips are sealed. But trust me, it's going to be perfect!"

"I don't like surprises," I mutter, but I'm fighting a smile. Hard to be annoyed when she looks so damn proud.

God, I love this woman.

"You'll like this one," she promises, then softer, "Trust me?"

And just like that, the fight goes out of me. Because I do trust her. Completely. This woman who walked into my life through a dating app mishap that turned out to be my luckiest break and somehow became the center of everything.

"Always," I tell her, meaning it.

"Good." She kisses me again, quick and sweet. "Because we're going to show everyone that The Brick belongs on that ice, omega or not."

"Our omega," Zayn corrects, and there's fierceness in his voice. "They come after one of us, they get all of us."

The others make sounds of agreement, and I have to look away because my eyes are doing something suspicious. Probably the suppressants. Definitely not emotions or anything.

"Speaking of pack," I say, once I'm sure my voice won't betray me. "There's something else I want to talk about. While we're all here."

The atmosphere shifts, everyone picking up on the change in my tone. Lexie settles beside me on the couch, close enough that our thighs touch. The others arrange themselves around us.

"What's on your mind?" Jax asks, growing serious.

I take a breath, trying to organize thoughts that have been spinning in my head since Vancouver. Since before that, really, if I'm being honest.

"I want us to make it official," I say finally. "All of us. As a pack."

"We are a pack," Aidan points out, looking confused.

"No, I mean..." Fuck, why is this so hard to say? "I want you to mark me. And I want us to mark Lexie. Properly. Binding us all together."

The silence that follows is deafening. I can hear my own heartbeat, rabbit-quick and too loud. Lexie's hand has gone still in mine, and I can't bring myself to look at her. What if it's too soon? What if she's not ready for anything so permanent? What if?—

"Darren," she says, and her voice sounds strange. Shocked, maybe. Or worse, scared.

I force myself to meet her eyes, bracing for rejection. "If you're ready," I add quickly. "No pressure. I know it's a big step and we've only been together a few months and maybe you need more time to?—"

She presses her finger to my lips, cutting off my rambling. Her eyes are wide, but the wonder in them is genuine.

"Are you seriously asking me to let you mark me?" she asks. "To officially join your pack? Permanently?"

I nod, not trusting my voice. I'm pretty sure everyone in the room can smell my anxiety despite the suppressants. I've never been this nervous before a game, or anything else. Then again, the stakes have never been as high as losing her.

She stares at me for another endless moment. Then, just when I'm about to take it all back, pretend I never said anything, her face breaks into the most beautiful smile I've ever seen.

But she doesn't say anything. Just sits there smiling while my heart tries to explode.

"Lexie?" I manage. "Is that a yes or…?”