Chapter 3: Caught red-handed

Asa

The only thought going through my mind as I stand in front of the heavy mahogany desk Kirill is sitting behind is how to get away with his incoming murder. He seems completely immersed in the stack of papers in front of him.

He hasn't looked up once in the five minutes I've been in here. But I'm kinda glad he is the terrible person I thought he was. It just makes the thought of killing him satisfying.

"You skated me into the dirt today." I break the silence, since it apparently looks like he has no intention of talking soon.

Kirill finally raises his eyes. He looks at me like I'm another one of the pieces of paper in front of him. Not deserving of his time.

"Vance outperformed you on the blue line. Rylan's puck handling was almost flawless. That is what a first-line team should play like. But you. You barely survived, and you call yourself captain of this team. Did you get onto this team because of your father's last name?"

Okay, forget about planning his murder or getting away with it, for that matter. I am going to kill him here and now, and everyone will know who ended this waste of space's life. How dare he compare me to those morons who are the ones actually here because their fathers sponsor the school. Yes, my father might be richer, but I have worked hard to be here. Even destroyed my own body.

"As first-line center, you will lead this team to a crushing defeat if you don't get your head out of the clouds. The conference league is different from the qualifying season." The absolute contempt in his indifference burns worse than the physical punishment, filling my chest with a toxic, simmering blend of humiliation and pure, unadulterated hatred. Some stupid part of me—the one I want to strangle to death—had actually wanted this man's approval. Oh God.

The idiot smiles as if he knows he's hit a nerve. I will ruin him one way or another, but preferably death. First for that night, then for coming here.

"You also need to watch that mouth of yours. And don't ever disrespect me in front of my team again, or I will show that mouth of yours the only thing it is good for." He says it before waving his hand and dismissing me, then going back to his papers.

"Oh, and Grey? It seems the others don't know your little secret, do they." There is amusement in those usually emotionless eyes of his. My body freezes, my hands tightening into fists. But then an emotion crosses his face as he says "I'd be careful the others don't find out if I were you." But then it gone before I can name it.

Is he threatening me or warning me against the guys, but why?

I push open the door and slam it behind me, my heart beating so fast I can feel it in my throat. Was he looking out for me. But why would he even care? He didn't care about anyone except himself. At least, that's what I wanted to believe, right?

Two days later

Well, stalking someone has never been something I thought I would ever do. As the son of the richest man in the city, people offer curated favor to me. And enemies are taken care of by that same money. But I need to do this myself. For more reasons than one. My father would definitely learn that his son, whom he is proud of, is an Omega. And because I want to see the look on that asshole's face when I finally ruin him.

But that is proving harder than I thought. He is not on any social media. He is basically a ghost, which is very weird seeing as he is supposedly a hockey legend. Even Toby couldn't find anything on him, and nothing misses those eyes. Though I had to be discreet, or else he'd find out what I'm doing and I'd never hear the end of it.

But that's okay, because I have a backup plan. I may have been watching him for the past two days and noticed something very interesting, which is why I'm currently trying to break into—no, trying to enter—his office, since he has clocked out for the day.

The minute I get inside, I'm assaulted by his heavy scent. I make my way to his desk, but before I can reach the locked drawer, an amused, hoarse voice comes from the door.

"My little wolf has turned into a stalker now."

My blood runs cold as I turn around and find Kirill leaning against the open door, a smirk on his lips.

"If you wanted me again, you should have asked nicely, malen'kiy volk, and I would have gladly bent you over the desk and given you exactly what you want. But I guess I can still do that, right?"

He smiles that smile of his—the one I wouldn't call normal—and he makes his way toward me.