LOGINDominic POV
The moment I smelled Theo on the ice, part of me went still somewhere deeper than thought.
One second, I was skating toward him, focused on the game and the seconds bleeding off the clock. The next, something sweet cut through the smell of blood, sweat, and ice. It was faint, sharp, and completely wrong for a hockey rink.
Anyone else would have missed it completely. I did not.
My body reacted before my brain caught up. Every instinct I had went unnaturally still for one sharp second before turning violently possessive hard enough to knock the breath out of me.
Mine.
The thought hit so hard I nearly lost my balance on the ice. The intensity of it unsettled me immediately. This was Theo Maren. My rival. Not someone my body should have recognized this quickly.
It made no sense.
Theo played hockey like he had been built for violence, reckless and impossible to intimidate. I had never cared whether he was an Alpha or Beta because it had never mattered before. But I knew what an Omega smelled like, and Theo smelled exactly like one.
I watched him skate away while panic showed clearly in every movement he made. His gloves were gone, his helmet already off, and tension pulled hard through his shoulders in a way that had nothing to do with the game anymore.
Something was wrong.
A teammate grabbed my shoulder as the buzzer sounded overhead and the arena erupted around us, but I barely heard any of it. Theo had already disappeared down the tunnel, looking terrified, and I was moving before I consciously decided to follow him.
The hallway split into three directions past the tunnel entrance, but I did not stop to think about where he had gone because I did not need to. A faint sweetness drifted through the air, wrong for a place like this.
I followed it automatically.
The thought arrived and refused to leave. If I was right, Theo Maren had spent six years surviving like this through suppressants, patches, and injectors taped beneath hockey gear inside a league that would destroy him the second it learned the truth. He had survived this alone for years.
Part of me wanted to drag him straight to medical before this got worse. The other part already knew I was not letting anyone near him.
The maintenance corridor outside the bathroom sat nearly empty because championship chaos had dragged everyone back toward the ice. Security, medics, and press handlers moved in the opposite direction, leaving the hallway silent except for Theo's scent and the uneven sound of his breathing through the locked door.
I stopped outside the bathroom near the locker rooms. I did not need confirmation to know he was inside. Theo's scent slipped beneath the door, and my lungs tightened around it immediately.
"Theo," I said.
Silence answered me. His breathing remained audible through the door, uneven enough to immediately put me on edge.
I knocked once and kept my voice low. "I know you're in there," I added.
No answer came. The sweetness in the hallway deepened. My hands closed into fists at my sides because if I could smell Theo through a closed door, any Alpha walking within twenty feet of this corridor could smell him too.
I pressed one hand flat against the metal. "Theo, open the door," I commanded.
Several long seconds passed before his voice finally came through the other side, quiet and stripped raw.
"Go away," he whispered.
He sounded wrong, breathless, and shaking.
I had seen this before while playing overseas in Russia. Omegas in suppressant crashes. His suppressants were not simply failing anymore. His body had already moved past the point where another dose would do anything.
"Did your injector break?" I asked.
Silence followed before Theo finally answered. "How do you know that?" he demanded.
"Open the door," I said.
"No," he shot back.
The word came too fast, and the strain underneath it made my jaw tighten. I forced myself to breathe evenly while keeping one hand against the door.
A few seconds later, his voice came again, quieter this time. "I just need another suppressant," he muttered. "That's all. I just need—"
"They aren't working anymore," I interrupted.
A broken sound answered me from the other side.
I rested my forehead briefly against the metal while tension pulled tightly through my shoulders. Inside the bathroom, something crashed against the tile floor before Theo swore sharply under his breath. Then his breathing changed.
A second later, his scent flooded the hallway in a dense wave sweet enough to sharpen my vision instantly. I sucked in one hard breath and held it. Then Theo made a sound through the door, soft and broken enough to strip away the last of my restraint.
Whatever restraint I still had disappeared after that.
I grabbed the handle, found it locked, and drove my shoulder into the door hard enough for it to slam open against the interior wall. Theo stumbled backward before catching himself against the sink with both hands.
I stood there staring at him.
He looked like someone who had been holding himself together for far too long and had finally run out of strength. Sweat soaked through his hair while his face burned flushed beneath the harsh bathroom lights. His chest rose unevenly beneath partially removed gear, and when his eyes met mine, they carried the desperate look of someone trying to decide whether fighting or running was still possible.
Beside his knee, the broken injector pen lay on the floor in two pieces. I stared at it briefly.
Six years of suppressants, lies, discipline, and exhausting control had come down to a shattered injector on a bathroom floor. Something angry twisted hard through my chest, not at Theo but at the fact that he had survived this alone for so long.
Then Theo hit me all at once, and whatever rational thought I still had disappeared instantly.
The bathroom door still hung crooked on broken hinges. Theo was still bleeding onto the floor. My entire body burned with instincts I barely recognized anymore. And the only thing I knew with absolute certainty was that I was not calling anyone. I was not reporting him.
Taking Theo home was a terrible idea. I did it anyway.
The decision was already made before I fully understood it, and that terrified me more than anything I had ever experienced on the ice.
Theo POVThe golden spotlights of the International Sports Hall of Fame Auditorium burned bright overhead.I stood at the polished wooden lectern in a dark charcoal suit, the crisp white collar of my dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck. The heavy gold induction medal sat warm against my chest, hanging from a thick navy ribbon.A crowd of two thousand people filled the grand hall—league executives, sports journalists, active players, and fans from all thirty-two franchises.In the front row, Dominic sat in a tailored dark navy suit. Beside him sat twelve-year-old Liam, wearing a suit and tie, and ten-year-old Sophia , dressed in a soft blue velvet gown. Sitting next to them were Eleanor Vale, Cony, my biological mother Sarah, and Chloe with Anthony. Chloe had five-year-old Lily, her daughter, resting happily on her lap.The room fell completely silent as I stepped up to the microphone."Fifteen years ago, when I drafted into this league, I was told that who I was at my core was a liabili
Theo POV5 YEARS LATER.The local ice rink smelled of frozen rubber, wet leather, and cheap coffee.I sat on the wooden bench in the third row, leaning my shoulder against Dominic’s heavy canvas jacket. Outside the glass, twenty kids in oversized helmets were skittering across the frost like ducklings.Dominic had his arm around my waist, his broad thumb rubbing through the fabric of my sweater. "His helmet is tilting.""It's fine, 9," I murmured, taking a sip from my travel mug. "He's got two pads under the chin strap."Beside us, my sister Chloe adjusted the pink fleece blanket wrapped around five-year-old Sophia. Chloe checked the baby's hat, making sure her ears were covered against the rink draft. Anthony sat on her other side, holding a tray with three paper cups."You two are tense," Chloe noted, handing Anthony a napkin. "It's a mite league game.""He's wearing my seventeen," I said.Chloe looked at me, her expression softening. She didn't mention our father. None of us ever ta
Theo POVThe double doors of the boardroom opened, and fifty executives in dark suits turned to look at the entrance.Six months ago, walking through these halls meant dodging medical monitors, hiding my wrist patches, and scrubbing my skin in basement bathrooms. Today, my boots clicked firmly against the marble floor.I wore a tailored navy suit. On my lapel, a small pin showed the crossed sticks of the Titans and Royals.Dominic walked right beside me, holding six-month-old Sophia securely in a carrier against his broad chest. His hand rested flat on my lower back, his dark cedar scent wrapping around me like an anchor.Behind us, Julian carried three thick leather binders.Commissioner Vance stood at the head of the polished mahogany table, a genuine smile touching his lips as he gestured toward the main chair."Welcome, Director Maren," Vance said, his voice echoing clearly through the room.I pulled out the high-backed chair at the head of the committee table. "Let's get to work,
Dominic POVThe nursery was quiet, dimly lit by the soft glow of a small star-shaped nightlight in the corner.I sat back in the heavy leather rocking chair, my bare feet resting on the rug. In my arms, Sophia sucked steadily on her bottle, her tiny fingers curling around my thumb. Her dark, soft hair was messy against my forearm, her tiny chest rising and falling in rhythmic, peaceful cycles.Down the hallway, the estate was silent.No ringing corporate phones. No emergency board meetings. No legal teams drafting non-disclosure agreements or court injunctions.I looked down at my free hand resting on the armrest. The platinum wedding band gleamed faintly under the warm lamp light, sitting right beside the faint, white scar on my knuckle from a fight during my rookie year.For ten years, my father had raised me to believe that control was the only currency that mattered. He taught me that feelings were structural weaknesses in a franchise, that an Alpha’s worth was measured solely by a
Theo POVThe contraction hit at three in the morning.I gasped, my fingers digging straight into the soft mattress. Beside me, Dominic was awake before I could even draw a second breath. His broad hand cupped my hip, his cedar-and-rain scent flaring strong, hot, and instantly grounding in the dark master bedroom."Theo?" he rasped, his voice thick with sleep but alert."It's time, hubby," I breathed, waiting for the cramp to ease. "Call Harris."He didn't waste a second. He swung his legs out of bed, grabbed his phone, and pulled a soft pair of sweatpants over my legs. Within twenty minutes, the estate driver had us at the private wing of St. Jude’s—no media vans. No reporters. Just a secured basement bay and Dr. Harris waiting by the private elevator.The labor suite was warm, lit only by soft floor lamps.By six in the morning, the contractions were coming every three minutes. I leaned against the side of the raised bed, my forehead resting on my forearm while another wave ripped thr
Theo POVThe autumn air outside the kitchen glass was crisp, carrying the sharp scent of damp pine and fallen leaves.I stood by the island, wrapped in one of Dominic's old grey hoodies. The fabric stretched snugly over my stomach, where my second-trimester curve sat warm and heavy. On the stove, a pot of cocoa simmered, filling the room with the rich smell of chocolate.Dominic walked in from the patio, unzipping his heavy canvas jacket. Cold air clung to his broad shoulders, mixing with his scent of dark cedar and rain."Is the ice holding?" I asked, setting down three mugs.Dominic tossed his work gloves onto the counter, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. "Solid four inches. The overnight freeze did the job.""He's been awake since six," I said, pointing a wooden spoon toward the hallway. "He tried to put his helmet on over his pajamas."Dominic let out a low, warm laugh, stepping close to wrap his arms around my waist from behind. His large, warm hands settled over my lower







