CHAPTER 2: OFF-LIMITS

PHILLIP'S POV

The locker room was loud. Too loud.

Laughter bounced off the walls, mixing with the sharp smell of sweat, damp jerseys, and the faint tang of blood from someone’s split lip. Sticks clattered against the concrete floor, skates scraped, tape unraveled. 

My teammates were celebrating like we’d just won the championship, even though it was only a small-town game. I sat on the bench, my chest still heaving, sweat dripping down my neck, but my mind wasn’t here.

It was still out there. In the stands.

Her.

Elizabeth.

The second I’d caught her eyes across the rink, it was like my wolf had slammed against the cage of my ribs. Clawing. Demanding. Growling her name. My hands had tightened around my stick until I nearly snapped it.

And when the girls screamed my name from the sidelines, reaching out, blowing kisses, I didn't care. Not one bit.

Because she wasn’t one of them. She wasn’t screaming. She was watching. Quiet. Still. Eyes burning into me.

And damn if I didn’t feel like I was burning too.

“Yo, Phillip!”

I blinked, dragged back to the present as Mark, one of our defensemen, smacked me on the shoulder with a towel.

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” he teased, grinning.

I shook my head. “Nah. What was it?”

“That brunette with the red scarf? Totally eye-fucking you the whole game. You should take her out tonight. Hell, take all of them. You’ve got half the damn rink drooling over you.”

The rest of the guys hooted, tossing their gear, egging me on.

“Yeah, superstar. Share the wealth.”

“You’re single. Live a little.”

“You’re wasting prime time, man. Girls like that don’t wait forever.”

I smirked halfheartedly, but inside? My wolf snarled. Not at them. At the thought of any girl that wasn’t her.

They didn’t know. Couldn’t know.

Elizabeth wasn’t just my best friend’s little sister.

She was something more. Something dangerous. Something my wolf was already claiming as his.

And that made her untouchable.

I forced a laugh and shoved Mark’s towel away. “You guys talk too much.”

“Because you don’t talk enough,” another one shot back. “Seriously, man, when was the last time you even…”

The locker room door opened with a slam, and Reagan’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

“The game's over. Let’s move it.”

The guys groaned but started hurrying, shoving their gear into bags. Reagan leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, that usual don’t-mess-with-me expression on his face. His eyes swept the room, sharp and protective, until they landed on me.

My chest tightened. He didn’t know. But he suspected.

And that made everything worse.

I grabbed my bag and pushed off the bench, heading his way.

“You played good,” Reagan said, his tone flat, like a statement more than a compliment.

“Thanks.”

He didn’t smile. Instead, his eyes flicked toward the stands, where I knew Elizabeth had been. His jaw tightened.

“About Elizabeth, Lip…” I turned to him and let him continue even though I knew when he was going to say.

“You know how she gets it. Always watching, always curious.” His tone shifted, protective. “But she’s my sister. Don’t let her get any ideas.”

The words hit harder than they should. A warning. A reminder.

Don’t touch. Don’t even think.

If only he knew. The bond I felt wasn’t something I could shut off like a light. It was on fire. It was instinct. It was my wolf growling every time she walked into the room, every time her scent drifted near.

I forced my voice steady. “I know the rules, Reagan.”

“Good.” He clapped me on the shoulder, too firm. “You’re my brother. Don’t make me regret it.”

I swallowed hard and nodded.

Brother.

That’s what I was to him. That’s what I was supposed to be to her.

But the way Elizabeth had looked at me tonight, like she wanted to drown in me, told a different story.

The ride home was silent.

Reagan drove, one hand on the wheel, the other drumming against the leather, the way he always did when he was deep in thought. I sat in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead, but I didn’t hear the hum of the tires or the music faintly playing on the radio.

All I heard was the thunder of my own heartbeat.

Because she was in the back seat.

Elizabeth.

I could feel her eyes on me, burning holes in my neck. Her scent, sweet, sharp, too intoxicating, wrapped around me like a leash. My wolf prowled inside, restless, begging me to look back.

Don’t.

I clenched my fists against my knees, nails biting into my skin. Don’t look.

But I slipped anyway. Just once. My eyes flicked to the mirror.

And there she was.

Leaning back, hair falling over her shoulder, lips parted, her gaze locked on me like she’d been caught in the act of staring.

The air thickened. Heavy. Dangerous.

I tore my eyes away, jaw tight, forcing myself to focus on the road ahead. But even without looking, I felt her. Every shift, every breath. My wolf knew exactly where she was.

Reagan’s voice cut through the silence.

“You did good tonight. But stop holding back. You’re stronger than you think.”

I nodded. “I’ll work on it.”

He grunted in approval. “And stop letting the girls distract you. I saw you out there. Eyes wandering. You’ve got bigger things to worry about than chasing skirts.”

My grip on my knees tightened. If only he knew the truth. It wasn’t girls. It was her. His sister. The one he kept warning me about.

Elizabeth didn’t say a word. She stayed quiet in the back seat, but her silence was louder than anything Reagan could have said.

Every mile felt like a battle.

When we finally pulled into their driveway, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Reagan killed the engine, and the three of us sat there for a second, the weight of unspoken words filling the car.

“See you tomorrow,” Reagan said, grabbing his bag.

Elizabeth slid out quietly, her footsteps soft against the gravel.

I stayed put for a moment, watching her through the rearview mirror. The porch light spilled across her hair, turning it gold. She didn’t look back. Not once.

But I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

Even when she disappeared inside, my wolf still stared after her, restless, unsatisfied.

And I knew.

I was already too far gone.