CHA-2

LUKE

"Get your hands off him!"

The roar echoed through the stone corridor of the Magnolia Hall Dormitory, vibrating deep in my chest. My vision didn't just blur; it fractured. I was staring at the heavy oak door of my sister's room, but all I could see was the ghost of a scent—the sharp, metallic tang of another wolf’s slick all over my mate.

Because I refused to believe what my instincts were screaming. It had to be a sensory hallucination. A cruel trick of the moon.

There was no other way my partner of three years—the man I was supposed to run a pack with—could be inside that room, shifted halfway into his primal form, knotting my best friend on the very rug I’d bought him for his birthday.

Why would my eyes do this to me? Was it a punishment for every late-night training session at the Navarro Memorial Stadium? For every hour I spent obsessing over hockey drills instead of him? My own biology was playing a sadistic game, showing me a betrayal so filthy it poisoned the air.

The two on the floor bolted upright as I lost my grip on my gear bag. It hit the stone with a heavy thud, the blades of my skates ringing out like a death knell.

Andre Walker looked over his shoulder and let out a strangled yelp. He scrambled for a discarded jersey to cover his chest, while Brandon Cole ripped himself away, spinning toward me with a guilty, frantic snarl. His canine teeth were still extended, wet with the evidence of his treason.

"Oh, hell! Luke!" Brandon barked, his voice cracking with a coward’s despair. He threw his arms over his waist as if he could shield the truth. "It’s not what it looks like. We were just... the heat... it just happened."

Just happened. Like a lunar eclipse. Like a thunderstorm. Repeatedly. On my floor.

"Luke, let me explain."

My ears were joining the conspiracy now. That was definitely Brandon’s voice—the quarterback of the Coastal team, the man who was supposed to be my Alpha.

What had I done to deserve this sensory betrayal? I didn't ignore his calls. I shared my kills. I gave him my loyalty. Why were my senses handing me over to the dark side? Let’s break Luke Navarro. Let’s show him his world is a lie.

Bastards.

Brandon staggered toward me, reaching out a clawed hand. I recoiled, my stomach heaving. If he touched me, if I felt the heat of his skin, the lie would become flesh. And if this was real... then my mate had spent three years preparing to gut me. In our territory. With my friend.

Then the third strike hit. My nose twitched. The scent of pheromones and stale sweat flooded my nostrils.

"God," I choked out, shaking my head.

I saw it. I heard it. I smelled it. The triple-threat of empirical proof. I was a cliché—the discarded wolf who walked in on the slaughter of his own heart.

"Luke, wait!"

I didn't wait. I wasn't going to take orders from a traitor.

I spun on my heel and sprinted. My brain didn't process the path; it just triggered the flight-or-fight response, and I was choosing flight because if I fought, I’d kill him. I’d sink my teeth into his throat and taste the man who had just been inside someone else.

I ran until the world tilted on its axis. A one-hundred-eighty-degree polar shift of my entire existence.

Brandon hadn't just been my partner; he was my legacy. We were supposed to merge our bloodlines after the winter season. We were going to hunt together, lead the Ice-Claw squad, and eventually mark each other for eternity. He’d just torched the forest. All of it.

The betrayal hit me like a silver bullet to the lung. My chest heaved, gasping for air that felt like lead. How could he do this? I’d given this man my soul. I knew he was arrogant, but I thought he was mine.

Red spots danced in my vision as I slammed into the stairwell door. I ignored the elevator—waiting meant being hunted, and I was the one running for my life.

I took the stairs at a lethal speed, my boots skidding on the concrete. Behind me, the heavy door above crashed open. Brandon was howling my name. I glanced back through the mess of my dark hair. He’d thrown on his breeches and was tugging a hoodie over his head.

He was faster than a human, but I was desperate. If he caught me, I’d lose it. I’d claw his lying eyes out, and as much as I wanted to feel his blood under my nails, the Navarro bloodline didn't end up in cages. Not for a piece of trash like him.

I also knew that if I stopped, I’d break. And I refused to let that snake see a single tear of my heartbreak.

I pivoted, shoving through the heavy fire door onto the second floor—the barracks for the younger wolves who didn't have private quarters yet.

It was a sixty-foot sprint to the other end. I was halfway there when a door swung open directly in my path.

I didn't have time to bank. I slammed into the figure with the force of a charging bull. Any normal man would have been flattened, but this guy?

I hit a wall of solid granite.

"Shit." The guy stumbled back, but his hand shot out, catching my shoulder while his other arm braced against the doorframe. "Watch it. You okay?"

"No!" I snapped, my voice a jagged edge. I looked back. The stairwell door was already swinging open. Brandon was coming.

I couldn't let him see me like this. Desperate, I shoved the guy back into the room he’d just stepped out of.

"Get in!"

"What—?" He tumbled backward, and we went down in a chaotic heap of limbs. I didn't wait for us to settle; I kicked the door shut and slammed the bolt home.

I scrambled up, accidentally kneeing the guy in the ribs as I lunged for the lock.

"Luke? What the hell?" a voice shrieked.

I froze. I knew that voice. And I knew the name the guy on the floor had just been called.

Cass.

I was staring at the man who was Brandon Cole’s greatest nightmare.

Lucas "Luke" Navarro met the eyes of his rival: Cass Castillo.

In the werewolf hierarchy, this guy was a god. He was the Ice-Claw’s lead defenseman, a wolf whose interceptions were legendary. He was built like a tank, his shoulders stretching the seams of a worn hockey jersey.

I wanted to snarl, to tell the arrogant bastard to stop staring, but my heart skipped. Brandon had always told me Cass was a "low-blood scavenger" with a horse-faced scowl.

Brandon was a liar.

Cass was striking. High, sharp cheekbones, a jawline that could cut glass, and eyes the color of a winter storm. His hair was thick and dark, long enough to...

Well, it didn't matter. Brandon had also told me Cass was only interested in males, which meant he was definitely not looking at me.

"You're Luke Navarro," a girl gasped from the bed.

I realized then I was in a girl’s room—Isabella’s room. She turned to Cass. "Why did you just tackle Luke Navarro into my room?"

Cass sat up, rubbing his ribs, looking dazed. "I didn't. He tackled me."

"But—"

A fist hammered on the door. The wood groaned under the force.

"Luke! Open this door right now!" Brandon’s muffled roar filled the space.

I backed away from the wood, my fur beginning to bristle.

"Luke!" Brandon jiggled the handle.

I backed into Isabella, clutching her arm. I didn't care if I looked weak. I just couldn't face the betrayal yet.

"Who is that?" she whispered, trembling.

"The Alpha," I rasped. Then I shook my head. "A dead man."

The door frame splintered as Brandon tried to kick it in.

"Fucking hell," Cass growled, finally climbing to his feet. He towered over me, a massive shadow of muscle and ice.

"Don't open it," I commanded.

Cass looked at me. He didn't move toward the door. Instead, his storm-colored eyes searched my face with an intensity that made my breath hitch.

"Did he lay a hand on you?"

I blinked. It was a cold, direct question. No pity. Just a lethal demand for information.

"Not physically," I whispered.

Cass didn't look away. "What about the rest of you?"

My throat went dry. The weight of the last five minutes—the smell of the sex, the sight of the rug, the death of my future—slammed into me. I didn't want to. I fought it. But my chest heaved, and a sob tore out of my throat.

I started breaking down. In front of the Navarro family’s greatest enemy.

"Oh God," I choked out, folding in on myself.

Isabella caught me, guiding me down to the edge of the bed.

"You piece of shit," Cass snarled, but he wasn't looking at me. He was looking at the door.

"No," I tried to gasp, reaching for his jersey. I had to stop a bloodbath.

But Isabella held me. "Let him go, Luke. Cass has this."

She smiled, a small, sad glint in her eyes. "I’m Isabella, by the way. Cass’s sister. It’s about time we met."

Sister? I blinked, confused, but my attention was ripped back to the door.

Cass jerked it open, his massive frame filling every inch of the entrance. He didn't step out. He just stood there like a mountain of cold fury.

"Stop hitting this door," Cass growled, his voice dropping into a primal register that made the floorboards vibrate. "Before I snap your throwing arm in half."

"Move, Castillo!" Brandon’s voice shrieked from the hall. "I need to talk to my mate!"

"He isn't your mate anymore," Cass barked. "He's under my protection."