S1

"You're late."

Mariana didn't look up from her third espresso. She didn't have to. The scent of rain and damp fur followed me into Sol y Sombra Café like a curse.

"The Alpha's assistant wouldn't stop howling about deadlines." I pulled out a chair, the wood scraping against the tile. "He wants the new scouting reports for the Miami Ice Dome by Monday. Apparently, the northern packs are sending their best Enforcers for the tryouts."

Mariana finally looked at me, her eyes tracking the way my damp shirt clung to my shoulders. "You look like a drowned rat, Val. And you’re vibrating. Sit. Breathe."

I didn't sit. My heart slammed against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that had nothing to do with the tropical storm brewing over the Bayside Bight. I’d just committed to the one thing I swore I’d never touch again.

"I told him I’d do it," I muttered, my voice rough. "The hockey profile. The full deep-dive on the lunar-cycle training shifts."

Mariana’s brow arched. "You hate the Ice Dome. You haven't stepped foot near a puck since your marrow-fever broke your streak."

"I like having a roof over my head." I paced the small space between the table and the counter. "My Bayside condo fees are high. The medical debt from the fever is deeper. If I don’t deliver this series for the sports desk, I’m hunting for scraps in the Everglades."

A low chuckle came from behind the counter. Mateo Silva, the barista with a grin that could melt a glacier, was leaning on the machine. He wasn't looking at me. He never did. He was busy cataloging the curve of Mariana’s neck.

I grabbed a napkin and wiped the rain from my jaw. I was the quiet one. The brother who lived in the shadows of legends, a soft-spoken wolf with a fire inside that usually just ended up burning me.

"Non-fat latte," I barked at Mateo.

He didn't blink. Just kept his eyes on Mariana like she was the only moon in the sky. I ground my teeth. I was used to it. Most wolves looked right through me, seeing a beta-grade build and a pen-pusher’s posture.

"Val." Mariana grabbed my wrist. Her grip was iron. "Look at me."

I stopped. The heat of her palm seeped into my skin.

"You're spiraling," she said. "Is this about the leg?"

I flinched. My calf ached, a phantom reminder of the day the ice claimed my career. "It’s about the work. I don’t know the new shift-play. I don’t know how they’re integrating the younger Omegas into the defensive line."

"So learn." She let go, leaning back. "You have the best resource in Miami living ten minutes away."

"No." I knew exactly where she was going. My stomach dropped.

"He’s the star of the Miami Ice Dome, Val. He’s the most magnetic presence in the league."

"He's a narcissistic predator who thinks the sun rises and sets on his stick-handling," I snapped.

"He's your brother's best friend." Mariana’s eyes danced with a dangerous light. "And he’s probably bored out of his mind at that Oceanfront Villa. Call him."

My phone buzzed in my pocket. A message from the lead editor. Confirming the interview with the Captain. Don't blow this, Cruz.

"I can't," I whispered.

"Why not?"

I looked out the window toward the Blue Ridge Mountains, visible even through the Miami haze. "Because Finn Reyes doesn't just play the game. He hunts it. And I’m not ready to be prey again."