2. See you Tomorrow

_Miles’ POV_

I stayed in the tunnel longer than I should have.

Nathan’s footsteps had already faded, but the taste of him was still on my tongue. Copper and cold air. My wolf was pacing hard under my skin, restless and pissed that I’d let him walk away. I could still feel the exact shape of his body against mine, the way his hands had fisted in my jersey instead of pushing me off. The way his breath had hitched when my thigh pressed between his legs.

That was the part I couldn’t stop replaying.

He kissed me back.

I leaned against the cold concrete and dragged a hand over my face. My heart was still beating too fast. I’d spent six years getting under Nathan Ashwood’s skin, waiting for that perfect control of his to finally crack. Every hit, every dig, every smirk across the ice had been for this. 

I just hadn’t expected that when it did, it would hit me this hard.

My phone buzzed in my bag. I ignored it. If it was my father, it could wait. If it was the GM, it could wait. 

Footsteps approached from the direction of the ice. I pushed off the wall, forced my expression back into something neutral, and walked toward the Growlers’ locker room like nothing had happened. Like I hadn’t just spent thirty seconds with my mouth on the one person I wasn’t allowed to touch.

The room was loud the second I stepped inside. Music was already blasting from someone’s speaker. Equipment was scattered everywhere. The smell of sweat and tape and cheap body spray. 

Kane was half-undressed, laughing at one of the rookies trying to get tape off his stick. He looked up when he saw me and raised an eyebrow.

“You good? You disappeared after the game.”

“Fine,” I said.

I dropped my helmet on the bench and started pulling off my gear. My hands were steady. They had to be. Coach was doing his post-game walk-through, stopping at every stall. He always did this after a loss. 

He paused at mine. 

“Silvermane.”

“Coach.”

“You and Ashwood again.” It wasn’t a question. “Both of you in the box. Cost us momentum in the third.”

“Won’t happen again,” I said.

He stared at me for a beat too long. Coach had been around twenty years. He’d seen every kind of fight. This wasn’t the first time he’d caught me going after Nathan. 

“See that it doesn’t,” he said finally, and moved on.

Kane sat down beside me once Coach was gone, voice low enough that the others wouldn’t hear. 

“You two have been doing this for six years,” he said. “Tonight was different.”

I didn’t look at him. “We always fight.”

“Not like that.” Kane’s eyes dropped briefly to my mouth. “Your lip’s swollen.”

I wiped the back of my hand across it. “Boards.”

He didn’t believe me. Kane had known me since junior league. He could tell when I was lying. 

“Whatever’s going on between you and Ashwood,” he said, “don’t let it follow you onto the ice.”

That I could answer. 

“It won’t.”

Kane studied me for a second longer. “Good. Because the last thing we need is you getting traded mid-season for fighting your ex-rival.”

I kept my face blank. But the word _traded_ stuck. GM’s had moved players for less. Personality clashes. Bad press. Distractions. And if my father found out why I was really fighting Nathan, it wouldn’t be a trade. It would be a war.

I took longer than everyone else in the showers. Let the hot water run over me until my skin went red. It didn’t wash him off. 

The rest of the team filtered out slowly. Phone calls. Film. Some guys stayed to lift. I waited until the room was mostly empty before I started getting dressed. 

When I finally left, the parking lot was half empty. Cold air hit my face and did nothing to clear my head. I got in my car and sat there with the engine off.

A memory surfaced without permission. 

We were nineteen. First pro game against each other. Second period. Nathan was cutting through the neutral zone with the puck when one of our defensemen laid him out. Clean hit, but hard. Hard enough that the sound echoed off the glass. Half the arena went quiet.

Most players would’ve stayed down. Nathan didn’t. 

He got up slow, blood on his lip, and skated straight to the faceoff. Didn’t look at the bench. Didn’t look at the trainer. Just looked across the ice at me. 

Like he was daring me to try it again. 

Like he wasn’t hurt at all. 

Like he wanted me to know he wasn’t.

I remember thinking: _There he is._ 

Not the Ashwood heir. Not my father’s enemy. Just Nathan. And he was the most dangerous person on the ice.

That was the first time I realized I didn’t just want to beat him. 

I wanted his full attention. 

I wanted him looking at me like that and nowhere else.

I started the car.

My phone lit up on the passenger seat before I even left the lot.

_Dad: Summit of Lycan Kings. Luncheon this weekend. You will attend. No excuses._

I swore under my breath.

The Summit. Once a year. Every major pack dragged their Alpha and heir out to pretend we weren’t trying to take each other’s territory. Three days of suits, speeches, and photos where everyone stood too close and smiled too hard. 

My father loved it. He called it “maintaining alliances.” I called it three days of being watched. Every conversation noted. Every alliance measured. One wrong look and the rumor mill would run for months.

I hated it. But I’d never missed one. Heirs didn’t get to miss Summits.

And Nathan would be there. 

Standing next to Elias Ashwood. Looking perfect. Controlled. The heir my father had spent his life warning me about. The one I wasn’t allowed to be within ten feet of unless cameras were rolling.

My wolf went still, then started pacing again. For a different reason.

I typed a short reply to my dad and hit send. _Understood._ Then I opened a new message and stared at Nathan’s name longer than I should have.

I sent the first text before I could talk myself out of it. 

_Miles: You can keep pretending you hate me._

No reply. I knew there wouldn’t be one. Nathan was too careful for that. Too disciplined. 

I sent the second one anyway. 

_Miles: See you tomorrow, Ashwood._

After that I drove home in silence. The city was dark. Rain started halfway there.

My apartment was cold when I walked in. I dropped my bag by the door and went straight to the window. The city lights stretched out below, blurred by the rain. But I wasn’t really looking at them. I kept seeing the exact second Nathan had pulled me closer instead of pushing me away.

My wolf was still restless. It wanted to run. It wanted to fight. It wanted Nathan. 

I dragged a hand through my hair and went to the small gym in the corner of the apartment. Hit the bag for twenty minutes. Did 100 pushups. Didn’t help. 

I stood under the shower again. Cold this time. Still didn’t help.

My phone buzzed on the counter.

_Dad: One more thing. Rowan Golden will also be present. Be careful around him._

I went still.

Rowan Golden.

New King of the Golden Pack. His parents died last year in a car accident and the title fell to him. He was 26. Too young. And he carried himself like he’d been waiting for the crown his whole life.

I’d watched him at the last two gatherings. He never caused scenes. Never started fights. But he watched. Especially Nathan. 

Last year at the winter gala, Nathan had been talking to a few younger heirs near the bar. Polite. Professional. Rowan had crossed the room, cut into the conversation, and didn’t leave his side for an hour. Not touching. Not flirting. Just... there. Asking questions. Laughing at things Nathan said. 

And Nathan had let him. Because that’s what Nathan did. He was polite to everyone.

But I saw the way Rowan looked at him when Nathan turned away. 

Like he was waiting. 

Like he’d already decided something about Nathan that no one else had agreed to yet.

My wolf didn’t like that. Not at all.

Another message came through.

_Dad: The Ashwoods requested a private meeting with us at the Summit. Do not disapoint me._

I stared at the screen.

A private meeting. Between Ashwoods and Silvermanes. 

That hadn’t happened in years. Maybe longer. Not since the territory dispute when I was 14.

Families like ours didn’t request private meetings unless someone was about to lose something. Territory. Money. An heir.

My stomach dropped. 

_Miles: Why?_ I typed.

The reply came almost immediately. 

`Dad: You’ll find out at the Summit. Don’t do anything reckless before then.`

Reckless. 

Like kissing Nathan in a tunnel was reckless.

I set the phone down and dragged both hands through my hair. Three days. Nathan would be there. Rowan would be there. Cameras would be there. And whatever this meeting was about, it was going to put both our packs in the same room with nowhere to hide.

I walked into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. My mouth still felt bruised. There was a faint red mark on my jaw where Nathan’s helmet had clipped me. I could still feel the pressure of his body against mine. The way he’d gone still for half a second before he kissed me back.

I had told him next time I wouldn’t let him leave until he came for me.

I meant every word.

My wolf settled slightly at the thought, like it finally had a direction. Like it knew what it wanted and was tired of waiting.

I turned off the light and went to bed, but sleep didn’t come easy. I lay there listening to the rain. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Nathan walking away from me down that tunnel, hands clenched, shoulders tight, trying to hold himself together.

I thought about texting him again. 

I thought about driving to his place. 

I did neither.

He thought the kiss was the dangerous part. 

He had no idea what was waiting for us at the Summit. 

And he had no idea I wasn’t planning to let him walk away again.