THE RUIN

SALOME

The victory on the ice had faded by the time the evening shadows stretched across our bedroom floor. Williams had been quiet during the drive home, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly, his mind clearly burdened by the news.

As night fell, the tension in our room was thick enough to cut with a blade. Williams stood by the side of the bed, his dark eyes locked on me with a mixture of intense worry and frustration.

"Salome, please listen to me," he said, stepping closer and reaching for my hands. "Miriam has played this sport for years. She’s ruthless on the ice. You’ve had one good day of training, but an actual game is entirely different. I don’t want to see you get hurt out there."

"I’m not backing down, Williams," I replied softly, stepping back so my spine hit the cool wall near our closet. "I’m playing."

He let out a low growl of frustration, moving toward me until there was no space left between us. His large hands came up to frame my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. "It’s too dangerous. Let me handle this. Let me cancel the exhibition match."

"No," I insisted, looking right into his deep blue eyes. "I need to do this."

Instead of arguing with words, Williams closed the small distance between us. His lips met mine in a desperate, demanding kiss that instantly set my blood on fire. He stripped my nightgown off in one smooth motion, his hands warm and possessive against my skin.

He didn't take me to the bed. With my back pinned against the wall, Williams hooked his thick arm under my left knee, lifting my leg up high and holding it against his side. He unfastened his trousers, lined himself up against my wet heat, and slid deep inside me with one heavy, agonizingly good push.

"Ahhh... Williams..." I gasped, my hands clutching his broad shoulders for support as he began to move.

"Salome, please," he groaned into the crook of my neck, his hips driving into mine with a slow, powerful rhythm that made my toes curl. "Think about this... You need more time. Practice more before you take up a challenge like this..."

"No..." I breathed out, my head tilting back against the wall as his cock stretched me completely. "I... I'm doing it..."

"You're so stubborn," he muttered, his thrusts picking up speed, heavy and relentless. Every time he buried himself inside me, he tried to persuade me, his breath hot against my throat. "Just give it... a few more weeks of practice, my Luna... Don't rush into her trap..."

"I'm not... backing down..." I cried out, arching my back into his hard body as the glorious feeling began to build in my belly.

He groaned loudly, gripping my raised thigh tighter, driving into me with a hard, possessive force that wiped away all my doubts for a few fleeting moments. He screwed me against that wall until I was trembling in his arms, sobbing his name as a quick, intense orgasm washed over me. Only then did he lower my leg, lifting me up into his arms and carrying me over to the mattress.

He didn't give me time to breathe. Williams flipped me onto my stomach, pulling my hips up into a quick, urgent doggy position. He slid back into me from behind, pounding with deep, desperate strokes that echoed through the quiet room, as if trying to push the idea of the game right out of my head. We came together with a shared, breathless cry, collapsing onto the messy sheets, completely spent.

Within minutes, Williams was fast asleep, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist. But I lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, my heart heavy.

Over the next few days, I practiced like my life depended on it. Every morning, I was the first person on the ice, skating until my legs burned and my fingers were completely numb from the cold. I knew the stakes. This wasn’t just a personal feud anymore. If I lost this game, Williams lost a crucial point for his club, because I was playing on his team.

On the eve of the game, Williams walked into the locker room while I was wrapping my wrists. His face was pale with worry.

"Salome, let Annabel take over," he pleaded, sitting beside me and grabbing my hands. "She is far more experienced. She’s been on the varsity squad for three seasons. Please, let her play instead."

My heart pinched at his lack of faith, but I pulled my hands away gently. "Hell no. I will challenge my ex-Luna. I started this, Williams, and I’m going to finish it."

Despite all my brave words, deep inside the dark corners of my heart, I was terrified. The truth was brutal: in every game, one person must win, and the other must lose. And I had very little experience to stand on.

The day of the match finally arrived.

The stadium was packed with wolves from all over the pack territory. The noise was deafening. When I stepped out onto the ice in my dark blue jersey, the crowd went completely quiet. I looked up at the stands, searching for a single friendly face, but there was no cheer for me. I was just a beginner, a first-timer who had boldly challenged a legend. I had no fans here.

Then came Miriam.

She walked onto the ice with unbelievable boldness, wearing her sharp red jersey, gliding effortlessly toward the center red line. Her lips were curled into a confident, condescending smile. The crowd erupted into thunderous applause, chanting her name until the roof seemed to shake. She had the experience, the history, and the entire arena behind her.

The referee blew the whistle, dropping the black puck between us.

The first round was a complete disaster.

The moment the puck touched the ice, Miriam moved like a lightning bolt. Her speed was terrifying. Before I could even adjust my posture, she stole the puck, glided past me with effortless grace, and slammed it straight into the back of my net.

Clang!

The crowd went wild. Miriam turned to me, laughing softly under her breath as she skated back to the center.

Over the next twenty minutes, she toyed with me. Every time I tried to pass or shoot, she intercepted it easily. She hit the puck with surgical precision, scoring goal after goal while I stumbled on the ice, my hands shaking on my stick. By the time the horn blew to signal the end of the first period, the scoreboard read a humiliating high score for Miriam.

I had zero points.

Sweat poured down my forehead, stinging my eyes. As the players headed toward the benches, I deliberately turned my head away and avoided eye contact with Alpha Williams, who was sitting near the coaching staff with a tense, pained expression. I couldn't bear to see the disappointment in his eyes.

"You're doing fine, Luna," Coach Marcus tried to encourage me, handing me a bottle of water. "Just keep your balance."

"She's playing circles around me, Coach," I whispered, my chest heaving.

When the second round began, things only got worse.

Miriam didn't just want to win; she wanted to embarrass me in front of the entire pack. She dodged my tackles with insulting ease, treating me like I was just a weak two-year-old child trying to play a grown person's game. She skated circles around me, slapping the puck into the net over and over again until the crowd stopped even cheering—they were just laughing at the sheer mismatch.

Every blow of the referee's whistle felt like a physical slap to my face. My muscles screamed in pain, my ego was completely crushed, and the overwhelming weight of my choice crushed my lungs.

When the final horn sounded, ending the nightmare match, the scoreboard displayed a devastating, crushing defeat. Miriam had beaten me by an impossible margin.

My arms were so numb I could barely keep hold of my wooden hockey stick. I lowered my head, letting the tears finally spill over my cheeks, hot against the freezing ice of the arena. I had failed.

The first person I saw after I dropped my stick was Williams. He was standing near the ice gate, his face pale and unreadable. I took a slow, painful step toward him, ready to swallow my pride and apologize for being so foolishly stubborn.

"Williams..." I choked out.

Before I could reach him, Miriam glided past me, her face flushed with victory. Without hesitating, she threw her arms around Williams's neck, jumping on him in wild celebration, laughing loudly for the whole crowd to see.

Williams didn't hug her back, but he didn't push her off immediately either. Over her shoulder, his deep blue eyes met mine. He gave me a single, deeply sad, disappointed look. He didn't say a word. He just gently pried Miriam’s arms off his shoulders, turned around, and walked straight out of the arena tunnel, leaving me standing alone on the cold ice.

A cold realization sank deep into my chest, heavier than the defeat itself.

Because of my stubborn pride, Miriam had defeated me with such a massive margin that it dragged our whole team's average down to the bottom. I hadn't just lost a silly game to my rival—I had officially made Alpha Williams's team fourth on the line for the playoff qualifiers, ruining months of his hard work in a single afternoon.