FAZER LOGINThere are only three things Zayden Mercer cares about: Winning. Protecting his younger brother. And never letting anyone discover what he really is. As captain of the Arctic Wolves, Zayden has built himself into UCLA’s perfect hockey prince. Disciplined. Untouchable. Admired. A lie held together by pressure, fear, and self-control. Then there’s Ronan Devereaux. The Northstars captain is everything Zayden despises—arrogant, beautiful, filthy rich, and born an S-class alpha without even trying. Wherever Ronan goes, attention follows. Omegas fall at his feet. Coaches worship him. And worst of all? Ronan enjoys breaking Zayden apart. When Ronan discovers Zayden’s twisted secret obsession, their rivalry turns into something darker. More intimate. More dangerous. Because Ronan doesn’t expose him, he keeps him. What starts as blackmail spirals into a brutal game of control, humiliation, obsession, and desire neither of them can escape. And somewhere between the fights, the blood, and the lies, Zayden realizes the person ruining his life may also be the only one who truly sees him.
Ver maisZAYDENIt was seven twenty in the evening when the taxi dropped me before the luxury suburban building that was supposed to be home but had felt like a prison for the longest time. Gated community. Two-storey grey building. Manicured lawn. Outdoor backyard kitchen I never seemed to remember ever being used. I exhaled and made my way toward it, fighting the exhaustion that had sunk into my muscles and refused to let go. Before I could punch in the door code, the knob turned. Someone opened it from the inside. My hand froze mid-air, and I looked up at her. Mrs. Baker. Her eyes were red, dried patches of flour clinging to her face, her apron carrying the scent of almonds and oil. “Zayden!” Her voice was a low wail, broken and desperate. My heart dropped, and a sharp crack seemed to go off inside my skull. The bag slid off my numb shoulders and hit the portico with a dull thud. I turned and ran, eyes burning, sounds colliding in my head until they formed an unintelligible jumb
ZAYDENMy jaw locked. The room turned stifling, air too thick to breathe, my heart hammering against my ribs like it wanted out. My thoughts frayed at the edges, vision swimming at the corners. Ronan’s eyes gleamed, vicious satisfaction naked in them. His hand slid up my spine, slow and deliberate, and it made me feel small. My limbs turned to lead, heavy and useless, leaving me pinned under his mercy while blood roared in my ears. “What do you think old Mercer would do if he realized his son was a creep?” Ronan’s voice was low, pleased. “If this video hits the internet, does that mean your career is a goner?” He laughed, biting his lip, that same cocky arrogance carved into his face. But this time I couldn’t fight back. I couldn’t throw a punch without watching everything I’d built crash down on me. “What do you want?” The words tore out of me, raw and scraping. My throat was parched, my voice croaky. I hated how he made me feel—like a cornered rabbit. Helpless and pathetic. He l
ZAYDENOne hour at the gym, and another ten minutes at the school sports facility did nothing to loosen the knots in both my shoulder muscles and chest. It felt like something heavy was crushing me from the inside.It didn’t matter. I had to shove it down and enter the rink. Today was the internal tournament between the Arctic Wolves and the Northstars. It was framed as a friendly match, but there would be nothing friendly about it. Never had been.Each side would play like their life depended on it. Because it did. I could already see scouts from the professional team hovering nearby, eyes sharp and calculating.The sports gear felt especially heavy as I skidded into the rink. Screams followed my entrance, girls clapping and waving their shirts. Propriety dictated maintaining the amiable star image, so I smiled back through my helmet and waved with my free hand.This was the feeling of being in the spotlight. When you win, you get more cheers. Lose for a moment, and doubt creeps in l
ZAYDENMy hands gripped the report sheet so hard my knuckles turned white, eyes fixed on the leaderboard. Blood in my mouth from biting my tongue too hard. Ronan Devereaux. Number one in Managerial Accounting, two points higher than mine. Statistics, one point higher. One fucking point. General GPA. Ronan: 4.93. Me: 4.92. Disgraceful. Cold sweat ran down my back. I was so sure I’d top the board this semester. How had he surpassed me by 0.1? Bryan, my friend, patted my back, a broad smile on his face. “Zayden, man, you’re the real MVP. We had sessions all through the exam period, and you still smashed every course with an A+. Talk about being wired for success.”The praise flew over my head. Having A+ in all my courses meant nothing if Devereaux scored higher than me. I could accept anyone else—why did it have to be him? Watching my name displayed boldly at number two made something twist violently inside me. The third person in our faculty trailed far behind at 4.3. But it di












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