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Rowan’s Pov

I barely slept.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Asher standing outside the practice rink, watching me after I’d scored that final shot.

I had no idea how long he had been there. Maybe he had only seen the last few seconds, or he had watched my entire practice.

Either way, it was enough to make my stomach twist into knots.

I had spent years learning how to blend in, how to make myself look ordinary, and how to avoid drawing attention to myself. Then I arrived at Silvercrest Academy and somehow managed to impress the one person I absolutely couldn’t afford to impress.

The future Alpha.

Great start, Rowan.

I groaned into my pillow before forcing myself out of bed.

The bedroom was still dark, and judging by the silence in the suite, Asher hadn’t woken up yet.

Good.

I preferred having a few quiet minutes to myself before facing another day of pretending to be someone I wasn’t.

After taking a quick shower, I stood in front of the mirror and opened the small metal case hidden beneath my clothes.

Inside were three things that could ruin my life if anyone found them.

My scent suppressants, heat blockers, and the official documents that listed my true rank as an Omega.

I picked up one of the suppressants and stared at it for a moment.

“I hate lying,” I whispered to my reflection.

“But I hate giving up even more.”

I swallowed the pill with a mouthful of water before locking everything away again.

Only then did I put on my Silvercrest hockey uniform.

The dark navy jersey fit surprisingly well, and seeing the academy crest stitched across the front made my chest tighten with emotion.

For years, I’d imagined wearing this uniform.

Now I finally was, even if I had to lie to earn it.

When I stepped into the kitchen, I froze.

Asher was already there. He leaned against the counter with a mug of coffee in one hand and a tablet in the other, studying what looked like game footage from last season.

He didn’t even look up.

“You’re late.”

I glanced at the clock. It was seven thirty.

“Practice starts at eight.”

“I know.”

“So how am I late?”

“You should already be eating.”

I blinked. “Seriously?”

He finally lifted his eyes toward me.

“A hockey player who skips breakfast won’t have enough energy for training.”

“I wasn’t planning to skip it.”

“You were standing there thinking about it.”

I couldn’t help laughing.

“You analyze everything, don’t you?”

“I have to.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It works.”

I opened the refrigerator and found it surprisingly full with milk, eggs, fruits, and protein shakes.

Everything was perfectly organized. Of course it was.

I reached for the cereal, and Asher sighed dramatically.

“That’s your breakfast?”

“Yes.”

“That’s barely food.”

“It’s food.”

He set his mug down and walked over.

Before I realized what he was doing, he had cracked two eggs into a pan.

“What are you doing?”

“Saving you from yourself.”

“I’ve survived eighteen years without your help.”

“Clearly.”

I folded my arms. “You know you’re bossy, right?”

He shrugged.

“I’ve been told.”

“You don’t see a problem with that?”

“No.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. It wasn’t quite a smile. But it was close enough to surprise me.

“Eat,” he said, placing the plate in front of me.

“You made breakfast.”

“For my roommate.”

I stared at him. “That’s… unexpectedly nice.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“I wasn’t planning to.” Even so, I couldn’t stop smiling as I picked up my fork.

Maybe living with Captain Bossy wouldn’t be completely unbearable.

***********************

The hockey arena was already buzzing by the time we arrived.

Players filled the locker room, laughing loudly while getting dressed for the first official practice of the semester.

The conversation stopped the moment Asher walked in.

“Morning, Captain.”

“Morning.”

Everyone greeted him with immediate respect. Some even stood a little straighter. It was obvious they admired him.

Then every pair of eyes shifted toward me. The recruit. A tall blond guy walked over with a grin.

“So you’re the roommate.”

I smiled politely. “I guess that’s what everyone’s calling me.”

“I’m Mason.” He held out his hand. “Assistant captain.”

“Rowan.”

Before I could shake his hand, someone shoulder-checked me hard enough to make me stumble.

“Watch where you’re standing.”

I turned to see a broad-shouldered senior glaring at me.

“You freshmen think one scholarship makes you special.”

“I’m just trying to get to my locker.”

“You can wait.”

Asher’s voice cut through the room before I could answer.

“He doesn’t wait.”

The senior looked annoyed.

“Captain,…”

“I said move.”

The room fell silent. After a long moment, the senior stepped aside.

I looked at Asher. “Thanks.”

“I don’t tolerate bullying.” He shrugged.

For some reason, hearing him say that made me smile. Maybe he wasn’t as arrogant as I first thought.

Coach Brooks blew his whistle the moment everyone stepped onto the ice.

“Listen up!”

His deep voice echoed across the arena.

“I don’t care what rank you are.”

He pointed his whistle toward the center circle.

“The only thing that earns your place on this team is performance.”

Several players glanced in my direction, and Coach noticed.

“If any of you have a problem with that, you can leave my rink now.”

Nobody moved.

“Good.”

Practice began. The first drills were simple: passing, speed skating, defensive positioning.

I focused on keeping my movements controlled. Fast enough to impress but not so fast that people started asking questions.

Then Coach divided us into scrimmage teams.

Unfortunately for me, I ended up facing three seniors who clearly didn’t appreciate the new scholarship player.

The first slammed into me during a corner battle.

The second “accidentally” clipped my skates.

The third drove his shoulder into my back after the whistle.

Message received. They wanted me off the team.

Fine.

They’d have to work harder than that.

The next time I gained possession of the puck, I lowered my center of gravity and slipped between two defenders before either of them realized what I’d done.

Gasps echoed around the rink. I passed to Mason.

He immediately returned the puck.

One quick fake.

A wrist shot.

Goal.

The arena fell strangely quiet. Even Coach stopped writing on his clipboard.

One of the seniors muttered under his breath.

“No way…”

Coach blew his whistle.

“Again.”

This time, the drills became harder, and so did the hits.

One player deliberately swung his stick toward my ankles.

Another tried forcing me into the boards. Just before the hardest collision landed, someone stepped between us.

Asher.

The senior bounced backward instead.

“What was that for?” he snapped.

Asher stared at him coldly.

“We’re teammates.”

“He needs to toughen up.”

“Not by playing dirty.”

The senior looked away first. Coach skated over.

“If you’ve got enough energy to fight your own teammates, you can spend the rest of practice doing laps.”

The seniors groaned.

I tried hiding my smile, and Coach glanced at me.

“You.”

My heart skipped. “Yes, Coach?”

“You’ve got good instincts.”

“Thank you.”

“But you’re holding back.”

“What?” My smile froze.

“You skate like someone afraid of showing everything.”

I forced out a laugh. “I’m just nervous.”

Coach studied me for several seconds before nodding.

“Maybe.”

Maybe? That didn’t sound convincing.

By the time practice ended, my jersey was soaked with sweat, and every muscle in my body ached.

Coach gathered us one final time.

“I’ve made my decision.”

The entire team went quiet, and he looked directly at me.

“Rowan Hayes.”

I swallowed hard.

“You’ll be joining the first line effective immediately.”

For a second, I thought I’d imagined hearing him.

The first line? Already?

Several teammates clapped, and Mason grinned.

“Told you you’d make it.”

Asher gave me a small nod that looked suspiciously like approval; not everyone looked happy.

Across the locker room, a girl who I didn’t know stood with her arms folded, watching me with narrowed eyes.

Unlike everyone else, she wasn’t looking impressed.

She was looking… curious. Almost suspicious.

As I packed my gear, I could still feel her eyes following me.

When I finally left the locker room, I heard her voice behind me.

Quiet enough that she probably thought I couldn’t hear.

“Nobody gets that good overnight.” Then she added, “I’m going to find out what you’re hiding, Rowan Hayes.”

The smile on my face disappeared. Something told me my biggest opponent this season wouldn’t be another hockey team.

It would be keeping my secret alive.