Mag-log inTRENTON The frozen surface beneath my face felt like a sheet of pure ice, but the fiery agony burning through my right shoulder was hot enough to consume me whole. I lay there on the cold rink, clutching my right arm tightly against my ribs, unable to draw a single full breath of air. Every small movement sent jagged spikes of electric pain shooting up my neck and straight into my spine.Around me, fifteen thousand voices erupted into a deafening, terrifying roar of pure rage."Diving?!" Lucian screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice cracking with utter disbelief as he charged toward Referee Miller. "Are you out of your mind, Ref?! He was hit from behind into the iron goalpost! He can't even stand up, and you're calling a penalty on him?!""Back off, fourteen!" Referee Miller yelled back, his face turning bright red as he put his hands on his hips and blew his whistle again. "Back off right now, or I'm giving you a ten-minute game misconduct! The call stands! Two minutes for divi
TRENTON The deafening roar of fifteen thousand fans hit me like a physical wall the second I skated out of the dark concrete tunnel and onto the bright, glowing ice of the main arena. Bright television spotlights flashed overhead, illuminating the thick haze of cold mist floating above the rink. The entire stadium was screaming—some fans cheering wildly for the Winterridge Ice Wolves, while thousands of opposing fans booed, holding up bright signs mocking my personal life and pointing at my face.I took a long, deep breath of the freezing air, feeling the sharp scent of scraped ice fill my lungs. I ignored the screaming crowds, the flashing camera bulbs, and the cruel signs. I tightened my gloved hands around my hockey stick and focused entirely on the small, black rubber puck sitting at the center dot. My right shoulder was tightly bound beneath my jersey with layers of heavy athletic tape, aching with a dull, constant throb, but my mind was completely crystal clear."Stay sharp, bo
TRENTON The deafening roar of fifteen thousand fans hit me like a physical wall the second I skated out of the dark concrete tunnel and onto the bright, glowing ice of the main arena. Bright television spotlights flashed overhead, illuminating the thick haze of cold mist floating above the rink. The entire stadium was screaming—some fans cheering wildly for the Winterridge Ice Wolves, while thousands of opposing fans booed, holding up bright signs mocking my personal life and pointing at my face.I took a long, deep breath of the freezing air, feeling the sharp scent of scraped ice fill my lungs. I ignored the screaming crowds, the flashing camera bulbs, and the cruel signs. I tightened my gloved hands around my hockey stick and focused entirely on the small, black rubber puck sitting at the center dot. My right shoulder was tightly bound beneath my jersey with layers of heavy athletic tape, aching with a dull, constant throb, but my mind was completely crystal clear."Stay sharp, bo
THIRD PERSON The sharp smell of rubbing alcohol and white athletic tape filled the quiet medical room beneath the Winterridge Ice Arena. Outside the closed door, the muffled sound of ice resurfacing machines hummed softly, but inside, the air was thick with tension.Trenton sat on the edge of the high padded examination table, his shirt off, exposing his broad, muscular torso. His right shoulder was swollen, dark purple bruises blooming across the skin where the muscle had been torn weeks before. Dr. Evans, the team’s head physician, carefully wrapped thick layers of white elastic bandage around the joint, pulling the tape tight until Trenton’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped in his cheek."I am going to be direct with you, Trenton," Dr. Evans said, his voice grave as he secured the final clip of the bandage. He stepped back and crossed his arms, looking down at the future Alpha with deep concern. "Your right shoulder is severely damaged. If you take one hard, full-speed collisi
THIRD PERSONThe frozen air inside the Winterridge Ice Arena felt colder than usual, carrying the heavy, metallic scent of scraped ice and damp leather gear. Up in the high rafters, powerful stadium spotlights cast long, harsh shadows across the wide blue rink. Down below, the sharp, rhythmic crunch of metal skate blades cutting through the ice echoed like gunfire off the empty glass barriers.Trenton glided around the center circle, his heavy breathing forming thick clouds of white steam in the freezing air. His right shoulder throbbed with a dull, burning ache under his thick medical tape, but he kept his jaw locked tight, refusing to let his face show a single flicker of pain. He slapped the heavy black hockey puck across the ice toward his forward, Lucian, with flawless speed.Suddenly, a loud, shrill whistle blasted through the quiet arena, shattering the rhythm of the drill.The senior league referee, a tall man named Referee Miller, skated over with his arms crossed over his ch
BRADLEYThe fluorescent lights inside the press room buzzed softly, casting a stark, white glare over the wooden podium. Dozens of news reporters sat in rows before me, their camera lenses gleaming like cold eyes and their microphones pointed straight at my face. The room smelled of hot electronics, wet coats, and cheap coffee.I leaned forward on the podium, adjusting the black microphone stem with a slow, calculated touch. A subtle, dangerous smile played at the corners of my lips. My phone was sitting heavy in my track-jacket pocket, still carrying the lingering heat of the secret call I had taken from Tristan hours ago."Captain Bradley!" a reporter from the regional sports network called out, raising her pen high. "With the championship finals just days away, how is your team feeling about facing the Winterridge Ice Wolves? Especially given the massive public controversy currently surrounding their captain, Trenton Lockwood?"I took a slow, deliberate breath, letting the silence
Aria“Not today, Tristan,” I muttered once I stepped out of the locker room. “Your brother will not die in my hands again.”Looking around to make sure that the coast was clear, I reached for the poison inside my bra, twisted the lid open, and stared at the dark liquid. The sharp smell of herbs—bur
AriaThe first thing I noticed once I stepped inside the locker room wasn't his fake smile or his scheming eyes that hinted that he thought he had me wrapped around his tiny fingers.No.The first thing I noticed… was the mate bond between us. It was no longer as strong as it used to be.In my prev
Aria.“You… poisoned me…” I whispered, feeling a coil wrapping around me tightly, suffocating me.I slumped on the floor, blood already dripping down my mouth and nose.“Of course.” He laughed coldly, staring down at me like I was something unworthy. “You really believed that I was going to have so
Aria.“Trenton Lockwood!!!”The cheers of the students and the cheerleading squad echoed through Winterridge University’s hockey arena, pom-poms waving in the air.Trenton Lockwood, the golden son of Alpha Liam Lockwood, the future pack leader, my stepbrother, skated through the ice, every stride p







