Chapter 2: The Captain

Aurora's POV

Ronan Blackwood. Of course it had to be him. Because why wouldn't the universe want to kick me in the teeth when I was already bleeding on the ground?

He stood by the window, a wall of muscle wrapped in an expensive suit, wearing the same scowl he'd worn back in college. The same entitlement that had let him ruin my life without breaking a sweat. My chest tightened with the memory of Damian. We'd been happy once... a normal, sweet relationship between two ordinary people... until Ronan decided to play god, spreading his influence until Damian finally broke and walked away. Ronan got away with it, too. He got away with everything.

Looking at him now, I felt the same instinctive recoil my father used to describe: the sense that some people moved through the world as if the rules were written for a different species entirely.

I forced my feet to unglue from the carpet, shoved the rising panic into a box at the back of my brain and walked forward. I extended a hand. "Victoria Kane? I'm Aurora Hayes. I'm the..."

Victoria didn't look at my hand. She stared at my face with eyes like chips of flint. I dropped my hand back to my side, curling my fingers into a fist to stop them from shaking.

"Sit down, Miss Hayes." Her voice was a flat, icy line. "Let's get one thing straight before we begin. You are being handed an opportunity today. Reporters with twice your résumé and half your baggage would kill for this exclusive access. Don't waste it."

Before I could manage a professional nod, a voice filled the quiet office.

"…total fraud! The league is secretly run by werewolves? What a joke! The guy was out of his mind!"

My blood turned to ice. It was the video... the one that dropped right after my dad's funeral, the one that destroyed his legacy and painted him as a delusional lunatic on national television. The same video that had made anyone who questioned the league's perfect human image into a conspiracy theorist by default.

I snapped my head toward the window. Ronan was holding a tablet, leaning against the glass, watching the broadcast at max volume. A smirk played on his lips as the commentator on screen laughed at my dead father.

"As I was saying," Victoria continued, ignoring the noise. "Your access to the team will be tightly regulated. You'll speak only when spoken to and you'll..."

"…and his daughter is just as crazy, folks! The apple doesn't fall far from the loony tree!" the tablet blared louder.

My vision blurred. My nails bit into my palms, hard enough to sting. I couldn't hear a word Victoria was saying over the sound of my family being humiliated for daring to suggest something non-human might be hiding in plain sight.

"Do you mind?" I snapped, spinning to face Ronan. "Turn that off."

The room went dead silent. Ronan lowered the tablet slowly, the smirk gone, replaced by something dark and predatory that made the air feel heavier. The temperature seemed to drop. Something ancient and territorial flickered behind his eyes.

"Excuse me?" His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through the floorboards.

"You heard me." My heart hammered against my ribs. "Have some decency and turn it off."

Victoria slammed a hand flat on her desk, the crack of it making me flinch. "Miss Hayes. Check your tone."

Ronan took a slow step toward me, his size suffocating. "You think you can walk into my arena and bark orders at me?" He looked down his nose at me, eyes cold and unforgiving. "I'm the captain of this team. I own the ice, I own the locker room, and as long as you're breathing our air, I have authority over you. That's insubordination."

The way he said 'our' air raised the hair on the back of my neck, as if this place, this team, this world belonged to something that didn't include people like me.

"I don't work for you," I said, refusing to back down. "I work for the paper."

"Is that right?" Ronan didn't blink. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Let's test that theory. I'll call Marcus. I'll tell him his new pet reporter lacks basic respect and I want her fired. Let's see who he values more... a washed-up freelancer, or the captain of the Blackridge Wolves."

Panic seized my throat. 'Lila. The hospital. The debt.' The fight drained out of me so fast it left me dizzy. He had me by the throat and he knew it. Somewhere beneath the fear was the same bitter recognition my father had lived with... men like Ronan didn't play by human rules because they didn't consider themselves bound by them.

"No." The word tasted like ash. "Don't."

"Then apologize."

I squeezed my eyes shut for a beat, swallowing my pride like sandpaper. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Ronan studied me for a long moment, then slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Tread carefully around here, Hayes. This isn't college. Step out of line and I won't just ruin your relationship this time. I'll ruin you."

He turned and stalked out, the door clicking shut behind him.

I stood there shaking, the air still charged, as if something wild had just left the room.

"Now that the captain's established the ground rules," Victoria said, as if a bomb hadn't just gone off in her office, "let's finish the briefing. The team's next game is in Colorado. Pack your bags... you leave tomorrow morning on the team's private jet."

"Tomorrow?" My stomach dropped. "I can't leave tomorrow. I have responsibilities here. My sister's in the hospital, I have to..."

"Miss Hayes." Her eyes narrowed to slits. "I don't care about your personal schedule. You're on that jet at six in the morning, or I'll terminate this job right now and you'll never work in sports media again. Are we clear?"

"Crystal."

I stormed out of the PR office ten minutes later, too exhausted and angry to see straight, mentally rehearsing how to explain this to Lila, when a body stepped into my path.

"Hey, watch it!" I snapped, ready to bite someone's head off.

"Whoa, hold your horses, spitfire." A laughing voice.

I blinked, my anger hitting a speed bump. The guy in front of me had his hands raised in mock surrender... lean, athletic, dark-blond hair, green eyes, a Wolves practice hoodie. He didn't carry the same arrogance as the rest of them. Still, something about the way he moved—too smooth, too aware—made me wonder if he belonged to the same hidden world as Ronan.

"Sorry," he said, flashing an easy smile. "Didn't mean to jump in the line of fire. I'm Kai. Newest addition to this lovely, mildly psychotic family."

I let out a harsh breath, my shoulders dropping an inch. "Aurora. The new reporter."

"Ah. The brave soul stepping into the wolf's den." He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Don't let Victoria scare you too much. She just needs a nap and a strong drink. Maybe a hug, though I wouldn't recommend trying that."

A surprised laugh escaped me, foreign in my throat. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Good. And if you ever need a tour guide who won't bite your head off, I'm your..."

"Lennox."

The word cracked through the hallway like a whip.

We both snapped to attention. Ronan stood at the end of the corridor, blocking the overhead light, his eyes darting between Kai and me, burning with a territorial fury that made no sense... too sharp, too possessive for a man just protecting team hierarchy.

"Get to the film room," Ronan barked. "Now."

Kai's smile vanished. He gave me a quick, tight nod and hurried off.

Ronan turned his glare on me. "And you. Get out of my stadium."

He pointed toward the exit. I didn't argue... just turned and walked, feeling his stare drill into my spine until I hit the doors. The weight of it lingered, as if something far older than a hockey captain had marked me.

The next day was a blur of packing and guilt. I finished my freelance edits by three in the morning, slept for one hour, and dragged myself to the private tarmac.

Now I sat in a plush seat on the Blackridge Wolves' jet, watching the city shrink beneath the clouds. The cabin was full of men talking quietly or blasting music through headphones. None of them looked at me the way athletes usually looked at a reporter... their gazes slid past me, assessing, dismissing, as if I existed on a slightly different frequency.

I leaned my head against the window. My chest ached. Lila was back there, alone in a hospital room. I wasn't by her side and it killed me. But I had to do this. I told myself, over and over, that it was for her. Survive one season, get the paycheck, save her life.

A strange sensation prickled across the back of my neck... not just a feeling, but a weight, like static raising the hairs on my skin.

I turned to look over my shoulder.

At the back of the plane, sitting alone in a dimly lit section of the cabin, was Ronan.

He wasn't sleeping. He wasn't watching a movie. He was staring at me.

His dark-gray eyes stayed locked on my face, unblinking. He didn't look away when I caught him. He just kept staring, his gaze heavy and predatory, tracking me like I was the only thing on the plane with a pulse.