ログインRyder changed fast, ripping off his pads and shoving them into his locker. Every movement was sharp and angry. His heart was still pounding from practice, his blood running hot from humiliation. He could hear Calloway in the distance, laughing with Beck about something, calm and casual like he hadn’t just tripped Ryder on purpose.He laced his sneakers in record time, yanking the knot tight enough to sting his fingers. Across the room, Calloway was taking his time, unhurried, methodical. The bastard looked like he was posing for a commercial, peeling off his pads piece by piece. Ryder watched as he disappeared into the showers, and forced himself to wait. He could hear the water start up in the distance, the sound echoing faintly through the tiled walls.When Calloway reappeared, his hair was damp, towel slung around his waist looking like a damn fitness model. He moved toward his locker, pulling on sweats with that same maddening calm. Only when Jax was fully dressed, duffel in hand,
By Friday morning, Ryder felt like he’d lived through an entire season in the span of a few days. Every muscle in his body ached, his shoulders screamed when he stretched, and his eyes burned from too many late nights and early alarms.But it was Friday.He kept telling himself that. One more day. Just one more day, and then he could sleep through the weekend and pretend he wasn’t falling apart.His alarm screamed like it hated him personally. Ryder smacked the phone off the nightstand, silencing it. He lay still for a beat, staring at the ceiling, forcing himself to remember: it’s Friday. One more day. He could make it.Dragging himself out of bed felt like hauling a sandbag uphill. His legs trembled under him, his hoodie somewhere on the floor.“It’s Friday,” he muttered, pulling it over his head. “One more day.”He stumbled down the stairs, following the smell of coffee and the muffled sounds of life returning to the Wolf Den. Someone had the TV on low in the living room, and Zach
Ryder hit the ice ready to bleed for it. Conditioning was supposed to break them down and rebuild them, but today, it was personal. He needed to stay ahead of Calloway, prove every stride, every breath, every drop of sweat had to mean something.They started with suicides. Sprinting blue line to blue line, turning, going again. His legs screamed halfway through, lungs burning, but when he glanced across the rink, Jax was still moving with that calm precision, not even looking winded. Ryder pushed harder. He hit the last line a half-second ahead, chest heaving, stick clattering to the ice as he bent double.Just enough. He’d won that one. Barely.Next came resistance drills. Weighted sleds, short bursts of explosive speed. Ryder’s shoulders trembled, sweat soaking through his shirt, but he refused to slow down. The guys joked and yelled around him, Connor calling encouragement, Drew swearing, but Ryder stayed locked in, matching Calloway stride for stride.Coach Larsson paced the rink
Ryder’s alarm blared like a siren.He groaned, swiping at his phone until the noise cut off. For a second he just lay there, blinking at the ceiling. The light streaming through the blinds was soft, filtered through a sky still half-frozen with morning frost. His head felt clearer than it had in days.He stretched, wincing a little, but the ache in his body was the good kind, earned, not given. He could still hear the low murmur of voices from last night, Drew and Connor sprawled on his floor, talking about everything except the things that mattered. They hadn’t grilled him for details they didn’t want to know, or judged him for the mess he’d gotten himself into. They’d just stayed. Hid with him. Kept him anchored when his head was trying to spiral.He smiled faintly, remembering Connor’s half-slurred pep talk about not letting “some rookie with hair gel and too many abs” throw him off his game. Drew had snorted beer out his nose laughing, and Ryder had finally stopped thinking about
The gym doors banged open as Ryder pushed through them, the night air hitting him like a slap. Cold and merciless. His breath came out in short, angry bursts as he stalked across the lot, jaw clenched, every muscle still trembling from exhaustion and adrenaline. His hoodie clung damp to his back. The humiliation burned hotter than the cold could cool.Before he could break into another run, something slammed into his side. Then another weight hit him from the other direction. Ryder hit the grass hard, air punched from his lungs.“Got him!” Drew grunted, pinning his arm.Connor dropped down beside him, knee pressing to Ryder’s shoulder to hold him still. “What the hell, man? You trying to blow a gasket?”Ryder thrashed, fury spiking again. “Get off me!”“Dude, calm down!” Connor barked, tightening his grip. “You’re shaking like crazy.”Zach hovered at the edge of the lot, eyes wide. “Guys, seriously—we’re gonna get in so much trouble if someone sees this!”Ryder tried to buck them off,
Ryder stayed under the spray long after his skin felt numb.Rage sat heavy in his chest, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. Every second replayed in brutal detail. Calloway’s smirk, his voice, the way he’d walked out like he hadn’t just stripped Ryder down to nothing.He slammed a hand against the tile, jaw tight. No one got under his skin like that. Not on the ice, not in bed, not ever. He’d been humiliated twice today, once in front of the team, and once when no one was watching.That ended now.He dragged a hand through his wet hair, the sting of water mixing with the raw burn of fury. He needed to do something. Move, hit something, lift until his arms gave out. Anything to quiet the noise in his head.Ryder shut off the shower, grabbed a towel, and dressed in jerky, angry movements. The locker room was empty now, the air thick with humidity and the faint scent of soap and sweat. He tugged on a hoodie, slammed his locker shut hard enough to echo, and stalked out.Outside, the nigh
Milo’s mind short-circuited.The second Avery’s lips closed around him, heat and wetness engulfing his cock, all sense of reality shattered like glass. His knees nearly gave out. He gripped the edge of the nearby couch for support, fingers whitening as he fought to stay standing. Her tongue was eve
Two teams. One building.Blackmoor and Crestwick.It shouldn’t have happened, not with teams this tense, this aggressive, this proud. Rivalries like theirs didn’t share lobbies, let alone elevators or breakfast buffets. But here they were, both teams already unloading gear into the same sleek marbl
The ice was too bright. It always was under the arena lights. Clean and blinding and merciless.Milo lingered by the tunnel entrance, pretending to stretch, crouched low with one knee pressed to the cold concrete. He wasn’t officially out for warmups yet, but standing by the edge of the boards gave
Milo stood behind the bathroom door, the gap barely wide enough for his eye, but it was all he needed. Just that narrow sliver, that glimpse into a world he’d been both dreading and aching to see.The light in the room was low, golden, soft. It wrapped around Ethan’s body as he stood at the end of







