0009

Asher’s Pov

The lock clicked into place, and the sound echoed like a gunshot in the quiet suite.

"We need to talk about what you really are."

Rowan froze dead in her tracks. The color drained entirely from her face, leaving her looking pale and ghost-like under the hallway lights. For a second, I thought she might actually pass out. Her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides, and her eyes darted toward the door as if she were desperately calculating her chances of escape.

"You heard me," I said, taking a slow step toward her. "The scent. The missing case. The way you avoid every medical check. Don't lie to me anymore, Rowan."

She flinched as if I had physically struck her. When she finally looked back at me, her eyes were swimming with hot, desperate tears that she was fighting with everything she had not to let fall.

"Are you going to report me?" Her voice broke, small and trembling. "Are you going to have me expelled?"

Her reaction hit me right in the chest like a heavy cross-check. I had expected anger. I had expected her to fight back or deny it like she always did. I wasn't expecting her to look completely shattered, waiting for the axe to fall.

"No," I said firmly, stopping just a few feet away from her. "I'm not going to report you."

She blinked, tears finally spilling over her lashes. "Then why does it matter? Why can't you just let it go?"

"Because you're terrified!" I raised my voice, frustration and worry bleeding together. "Every single day you walk around this academy looking like you're walking through a minefield. Someone stole your suppressants, Rowan. Bianca knows something. You're carrying a secret that could destroy everything you've worked for, and you're doing it all by yourself."

"Because I have to!" she shouted back, her voice cracking with years of built-up pain. "You don't understand! You're an Alpha! You were born with a silver hockey stick in your hand and a future written out for you before you took your first breath! You don't know what it's like to be told you aren't even allowed to touch the ice just because of what you were born as!"

She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly under her jacket. She stopped short of saying the actual word—she didn't say Omega out loud—but she didn't have to. The truth was hanging right there between us in the cold air of the room.

I stared at her, finally seeing past the lies, the forged records, and the constant defense mechanisms. I saw the endless early mornings, the bruised shins, the secret training sessions with her aunt, and the sheer, unbreakable will of a girl who refused to let the world steal her dream.

"I can't tell you everything," Rowan whispered, her voice dropping to a vulnerable, broken plea as she looked down at the floor. "Not yet. My identity is... It's complicated. But I need more time. Please, Asher. If you have any respect for me at all, give me time before you judge me."

I remembered her question from the night before. If I told you I was hiding something that could get me expelled, would you hate me?

I had promised I wouldn't. And looking at her now, standing in my living room, looking so fragile yet fiercely brave, I knew I couldn't break that promise.

"I won't tell anyone," I said quietly, stepping closer until I was right in front of her. "Your secret is safe with me. Nobody will hear anything from my mouth."

Rowan stared up at me, pure shock washing over her features. She had expected me to use my authority against her, to demand answers, to turn her in. Instead, I was choosing to protect her.

The heavy, suffocating tension in the room slowly shifted, replaced by something warm and dizzying.

To break the crushing weight of the moment, I forced a small, crooked smile and pointed toward the door. "Come on."

She sniffled, wiping a stray tear off her cheek with the sleeve of her hoodie. "Where?"

"Private practice rink."

"At this hour? Are you crazy? It's past midnight."

"Probably," I admitted, grabbing my hockey bag from the floor. "Unless you're too scared to face me on the ice."

Her eyes narrowed instantly, the old, stubborn fire returning to her face. "Me? Scared of you? In your dreams, Knight."

"Prove it," I challenged. "If you beat me in a one-on-one shootout right now, I promise I won't ask you any more questions about your secrets for a full week."

"A whole week?" she asked, a spark of playful defiance finally replacing the terror in her eyes. "Deal."

Ten minutes later, we were standing on the cold, empty ice of the secondary training rink. The overhead lights buzzed quietly above us, casting long shadows across the white surface. There were no coaches, no screaming fans, and no pack politics—just the two of us, a couple of sticks, and a single black puck.

Our competitive game quickly turned into an absolute mess of laughter and chaos. We chased each other across the ice, sliding, crashing into the boards, and laughing whenever one of us wiped out. All the pressure, the fear of discovery, and the heavy expectations of the academy melted away into the freezing air.

Rowan was fast—faster than any Beta had a right to be—her edges sharp and her moves unpredictable.

"You're cheating!" she yelled across the ice as I stole the puck away with a quick poke-check.

"It's called defense, Hayes!" I shouted back, grinning wide.

"You're just scared I'm going to win my week of silence!"

"Prove it then!"

She charged forward with fierce determination. Instead of trying to skate around me, she pulled a lightning-fast deke, sliding the puck right between my skates while dropping her shoulder to slip past. Before I could pivot to block her, she whipped her stick around and fired a hard wrist shot straight into the top corner of the net.

Goal.

Rowan stopped skating, throwing her arms up in the air with a triumphant cheer that echoed off the empty glass. "Yes! I won! That means one full week of no annoying questions!"

She was laughing so hard she could barely keep her balance on her skates. She turned sharply to skate victory laps around me, but her foot caught a rut in the ice.

Her eyes went wide as she stumbled forward, losing control completely.

"Whoa—!"

She crashed right into me, and my instincts took over instantly. I dropped my stick and caught her firmly around the waist, pulling her flush against my chest to keep her from slamming onto the ice.

For several breathless seconds, the entire world stopped moving.

Rowan’s hands rested flat against my chest, right over my pounding heart. We were so close I could feel the heat radiating off her skin, and that sweet, intoxicating scent of snow and vanilla filled my lungs with overwhelming force.

My wolf growled deep inside my chest—possessive, protective, and completely awakened. I couldn't look away from her dark, wide eyes.

Slowly, the playful smile faded from Rowan's face, replaced by a quiet, trembling breath. She stared up at me, her fingers curling slightly into the fabric of my jersey.

"Asher…" she whispered, her voice barely a breath against the cold air. "Why are you looking at me like that?"