Chapter 6: The Weight of the Crown

The roar of the crowd outside the locker room walls was a deafening, rhythmic vibration that shook the very concrete beneath my sneakers. 

The Blackwood Reapers had just skate-shuffled down the tunnel for a quick intermission, but the atmosphere inside the away-team locker room was far from celebratory. It was thick with the copper scent of fresh blood, toxic testosterone, and a suffocating wall of Alpha pressure.

I stood tucked away in the corner near the equipment trunks, still wrapped in the oversized black-and-silver Reapers hoodie Dominic had shoved into my hands before the puck dropped.

"Sit down, Vance!" Dominic’s voice didn't just command; it shattered the air. He ripped his helmet off, his dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, his silver eyes flashing a dangerous, luminescent white.

Across the room, Asher slammed his goalie blocker against the metal benches, a rare, terrifying snarl ripping from his throat. The lazy, teasing smirk he usually wore at school was completely gone, replaced by the bared fangs of a protective mate. His jersey was torn at the shoulder, revealing a nasty, oozing gash where Ryker’s defenseman, Jax, had intentionally run him into the goalpost.

"He targeted Elara first, Garcia!" Asher spat, his chest heaving as he glared at the door. "You saw how he shoved her on the wet ice. If we didn't cross the blue line when we did, she would have cracked her head open. I'm not sitting back and playing a clean game while that Icefang prince treats our mate like a piece of garbage!"

"No one is playing clean," Dominic countered, his voice dropping to a deadly, gravelly whisper that made the hairs on my arms stand up. He skated right up to Asher, their massive frames towering over the rest of the team as their dominant auras clashed, fighting for dominance. "But you lose your head again in the crease, you get a game misconduct. If you get ejected, we lose our anchor. I want Blackthorn ruined, Asher. But I want it done legally on the scoreboard first, then brutally on the boards. We don't give them a single excuse to disqualify us."

From the shadow of the doorway, Kaelen stood like a stone monolith, quietly taping a fresh hockey stick. His dark eyes flicked to me, checking every inch of my body for injuries, his silent devotion a grounding anchor in the middle of the storm. 

Near the chalkboard, the twins, Zane and Tristan, were pacing in identical, predatory loops, their knuckles white as they gripped their sticks, their shared telepathic link sending a current of volatile energy through the room.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Our mate. The words repeated in my head, sending a dizzying rush of heat straight to my core.

 Lupine was practically purring in my mind, her silver fur bristling with absolute satisfaction as she watched the four Alphas fiercely debate how best to avenge us.

See? Lupine murmured, her voice dripping with newfound pride. They don't see us a burden, Elara. They see a treasure. They would bleed for us.

Before I could process the sheer weight of having four second-chance Alpha mates, the heavy locker room door was pushed open.

My breath hitched.

Ryker stood in the doorway, flanked by his coach and two security guards. He had stripped off his hockey gloves, and his face was twisted into a smug, arrogant grin. 

Behind him, Cynthia peeked out, her platinum-blonde hair perfectly styled, her fingers wrapped tightly around Ryker’s arm as she glared at my oversized hoodie.

"Get the hell out of our room, Blackthorn," Dominic growled, stepping in front of me instantly, his towering frame completely obscuring Ryker's view of my body.

"Just delivering a official warning, Garcia," Ryker sneered, his icy blue eyes trying to peer past Dominic’s shoulder. He fixed his gaze on me, his lip curling in disgust. "The league officials are already reviewing the footage of your little stunt on the ice. Crossing onto our side of the rink during warmups to grab an Icefang Omega? That’s an automatic penalty. Enjoy the box, captain."

Cynthia stepped forward, her voice dripping with sweet poison. "Honestly, Elara, I knew you were desperate, but throwing yourself at our rivals just because Ryker realized you weren't Luna material? It’s pathetic. Look at you, stretching out their jersey. You don't belong here."

The old Elara would have shrunk. The old Elara would have looked down at her thick thighs, pulled the hoodie tight, and let the tears fall. 

But the memory of Ryker shoving me onto the cold ice—the memory of Dominic catching me and the other three Alphas creating a human shield to protect my honor—burned through my insecurities like wild fire.

I stepped out from behind Dominic, my chin held high, my eyes locking onto my ex-mate with absolute disdain.

"I don't belong to the Icefang pack anymore, Ryker," I said, my voice remarkably steady, echoing off the locker room walls. "And I certainly don't belong to a boy who plays dirty because he’s terrified of losing his crown."

Ryker’s jaw clenched, his eyes flaring with a sudden, ugly surge of possessive fury at my defiance. "You think these guys actually care about you, Elara? Look at them. They’re using you as a distraction. The moment the buzzer sounds and they win or lose, you’ll just be the fat, rejected Omega they left behind in the locker room."

"That's where you're wrong, little prince," Zane barked, stepping up beside me, a dark, wicked grin flashing against his silver lip ring.

Tristan mirrored his brother's movement, his tattooed neck tensing as he leaned in close to Ryker’s face. "We don't leave what's ours behind. Ever."

Dominic didn't say another word. He simply raised his hand, pointing a single, gloved finger directly at Ryker’s chest. "Second period starts in three minutes, Blackthorn. Keep your head on a swivel. Because I’m personally going to make sure you carry the scent of my ice back to your crumbling pack."

"We'll see who’s crawling," Ryker spat, ripping his arm away from Cynthia as he turned and stormed back down the concrete tunnel toward the ice. Cynthia shot me one last venomous look before scurrying after him.

The heavy door slammed shut, leaving us in a tense, vibrating silence.

Dominic turned back to the room. The cold, ruthless mask he wore for the world dissolved for a fraction of a second as he looked down at me. He stepped closer, his large hand gently cupping the back of my neck, his thumb tracing the sensitive skin right below my ear. The spark of the fated bond erupted between us, sending a wave of delicious, calming heat straight through my veins.

"You did well out there, little wolf," Dominic murmured, his silver eyes burning with a deep, unbridled hunger that made my knees weak. "Now, go sit in the VIP box with Chloe. Keep your eyes on the center ice."

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, his breath hot and commanding.

"Watch me break him for you."