LOGINTimothy's POV
"Did you see that creepy little Omega last night?" Madison's voice cuts through the steam in my private shower stall, in a mocking tone. She's perched on the bench outside, filing her nails like she owns the place. "The one who was watching us?" she adds with a cruel laugh. I grunt noncommittally, scrubbing harder than necessary. Truth is, I can't get Penelope Hale's face out of my head the way her eyes went wide with shock, then crumpled with devastation. Something about her expression bothers me more than it should. "I posted the video," Madison continues, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she examines her manicure. "It's already got three thousand views." She pauses, letting the number sink in. "Poor thing probably doesn't realize how obvious she's been." "You posted what?" The words come out harsher than intended, my jaw clenching. "The stalker video." She sounds pleased with herself, nail file clicking against her teeth. "Someone needed to put her in her place," she says with a dismissive wave. "These Omegas get delusions sometimes, thinking they can aim above their station." Kael snarls in my mind, but I push him down. Madison's right—it's better this way. Better that Penelope learns the reality of our world before she gets hurt worse. Still, the image of her tear-streaked face as she ran makes my chest tight. "Timothy?" Madison's voice turns pouty, bottom lip jutting out. "You're not actually feeling sorry for her, are you?" "Of course not," I snap, turning off the water with more force than necessary. "Just thinking about tonight's game." But that's a lie. What I'm really thinking about is the way Penelope looked at me—not with the calculating interest of pack daughters hoping to climb the social ladder, but with something pure and desperate that made Kael sit up and take notice. I wrap a towel around my waist and step out, forcing my trademark grin. Madison immediately gravitates toward me like a magnet, all curves and expensive perfume. "Good," she purrs, running her hands over my chest with practiced moves. "Because I have plans for us after you destroy Bloodfang tonight." I let her kiss me, let her hands wander, but my mind keeps drifting to a pair of hazel eyes and the strangled sob I heard echoing through that tunnel. ******** The crowd's roar washes over me as I step onto the ice, but tonight Kael won't shut up. My wolf keeps insisting there's something important I'm missing, some scent or presence that should matter. I shake it off—probably just pre-game nerves. This championship means everything to Dad, to the pack, to my future. I spot Madison in the VIP section, giving me her sultry smile. She'll be perfect for unwinding after we win no strings attached as usual, no emotions, just the physical release I need. Kael growls his disapproval, but he'll get over it. We always do. "Blackthorn!" Coach Thorn's bark cuts through my thoughts. "Get your head in the game," he shouts from behind the bench. "Bloodfang's looking hungry tonight." He's right. Across the ice, Liam Vaughn is warming up with his team, and the bastard's got a murderous eyes. We've been rivals since junior league, but lately there's been something different about our competition. It has gotten personal and vicious. "What's eating you, man?" Ethan skates up beside me, concern written across his features as he adjusts his helmet. "You've been weird all day." "Nothing." I slam my stick against the boards, harder than intended. "Just ready to wipe that smirk off Vaughn's face." Ethan doesn't buy it. He's known me too long, seen too many of my moods. "This about that Omega girl?" he asks quietly, glancing around to make sure no one else hears. "Madison's been bragging about some video all day." "Drop it, Cross." My voice carries a warning edge. "Look, I get it," Ethan continues, ignoring my tone. "You had to shut her down. Can't have pack members thinking" "I said drop it." The words come out with enough with an Alpha command to make Ethan step back, hands raised in surrender. But he's hit too close to home. Because the truth is, I didn't just shut Penelope down I destroyed her. And for what? To protect my image? To keep Dad happy? To maintain some stupid social order that puts people in boxes they can't escape? The puck drops and instinct takes over. This is my element, where nothing matters except speed, power, and winning. I barrel down the ice, shouldering past two Bloodfang defenders like they're made of paper. Their crowd boos, but our fans scream my name. "BLACKTHORN! BLACKTHORN! BLACKTHORN!" The chant should fill me with pride, but tonight it feels hollow. Like I'm performing in a play where I've forgotten my lines. Vaughn appears out of nowhere, body-checking me into the boards with brutal force. Stars explode behind my eyes, but I stay upright out of pure stubbornness. "Heard you broke some poor girl's heart," he snarls, close enough that only I can hear, his breath hot against my ear. "Real classy, Blackthorn." "Stay out of my business, Vaughn." I shove him back, but he doesn't budge. "Hard to do when your business makes headlines." He circles me like a predator his stick ready for another strike. "Maybe it's time someone taught you about consequences," he says with a cold smile. Something in his tone makes Kael go absolutely feral. My wolf wants to shift right here on the ice, pack laws be damned. The urge is so strong I have to grip my stick harder to keep human form. "You threatening me?" I bare my teeth in what might pass for a grin to the cameras. Liam's grin is all teeth but patient. "Just stating facts," he says, backing away slowly. "What goes around comes around, Alpha boy." The referee blows his whistle before I can respond, but Vaughn's words echo in my head. What does he know about Penelope? Why does he care what happens to some random Omega? The game becomes a blur of violence disguised as sport. Every check feels personal, every goal feels like a declaration of war. By the third period, both teams are playing angry, and the refs are losing control. I score the winning goal with thirty seconds left, but the victory feels empty. The crowd erupts, Dad beams from his private box, and Madison blows me kisses from the stands. Everything's is exactly as it should be. ****** In the locker room afterward, champagne flows and teammates celebrate like we've won the Stanley Cup. I play my part grinning, trash-talking, letting Madison drape herself over me for photos. But inside, Kael is pacing like a caged animal. "Earth back Timothy." Ethan waves a hand in front of my face, concern creeping back into his voice. "You're spacing out again." "Just tired," I lie, forcing another smile. "Right." He doesn't believe me, but he lets it slide with a shake of his head. "Madison's waiting outside," he says, nodding toward the door. "Something about those plans she mentioned?" I look at Madison through the glass partition, I see her perfect smile and calculated poses for her social media followers. She's beautiful, willing, and completely safe exactly my type. No emotional complications, no messy feelings, no risk of getting hurt. Madison appears in the doorway, all legs and cleavage exposed in that sultry dress. "Ready to celebrate the champion?" she asks, striking a pose that's clearly meant to drive me wild. I paste on my best smile, the one that's graced magazine covers and made panties drop across three states. "Always ready for you, babe." But as she leads me toward her car, her heels clicking against the concrete, Kael's words echo: You'll regret this Timothy.Timothy's POVLiam called me on a Tuesday morning, which was unusual. We usually communicated through Ethan or formal pack channels; a direct call meant something was different."I need to tell you something before it gets out another way," he said.I leaned back in my chair. "Go ahead.""I asked Isla to marry me," he said. "Last night, she said yes."I stared at the ceiling for a moment, thinking about how impossible this would have felt a few years ago. Now, it just felt like something I should have seen coming."Congratulations," I said."I know how it sounds," Liam replied."It sounds like two people who figured things out."There was a pause. "Isla should be the one to tell Penelope," he said. "I just wanted to tell you first, out of respect."Knowing the weight of our history, I appreciated the gesture. "I think you’re a better man than you used to be," I told him."I'm trying," he said."We all are."Isla told Penelope that afternoon while Jasmine napped. From my office, I hear
Timothy's POVAround nine that night, a storm rolled off the mountains, turning the sky a bruised green-gray and rattling the window frames. Penelope had been restless all day, her movements careful and constant as she tried to find a comfortable position that didn't exist. By seven, the book in her lap was just a prop; by eight, her focus had shifted entirely to the timer on her phone, tracking the rhythm of a storm of her own."Contractions," she said, when I asked."How far apart?" I asked."Eight minutes," she said. "It's fine, we have time.""We're going now," I said."They said to wait until""Penelope," I said.She looked at me for a moment, then looked at the rain sheeting down the back window, then looked back at me. "Fine," she said. "Get the bag."The hospital was a fifteen-minute drive, but I made it in ten—a move Penelope later teased me for, though I have no regrets. The staff were ready for us, moving her through intake and the initial exams with practiced speed. The mi
Penelope's POVNobody warned me that the first trimester would feel like being slowly poisoned.I’d read the books and talked to my mother, who called pregnancy "uncomfortable but manageable." I now suspected that was a lie told by survivors. I was nauseous all morning, exhausted by the afternoon, and hit by intense, specific cravings by evening.In week seven, I wanted pickles and cream cheese on toast. By week nine, it was plain cold rice. At week eleven, I sent Timothy out for a specific orange juice; when he returned with a different brand because mine was discontinued, I just stared at the bottle and cried."I know," he said carefully, setting the juice on the counter. "I'm sorry, I tried four stores.""It's fine," I said, crying."Okay," "It's not fine, that juice is terrible and nothing tastes right and I'm exhausted and I don't know why I'm crying," I said, still crying."I know," he said again. He hugged me and let me cry for a few minutes about the orange juice and the she
Timothy's POV Our third anniversary fell on a Thursday, which meant Penelope had a council subcommittee meeting in the morning and I had two territory calls in the afternoon, and we'd agreed a week earlier to do the actual celebration on Saturday when neither of us would be busy. That morning, I woke up early and watched the light filter through the curtains—a habit I’d kept since the second year. There was no crisis; I just wanted to appreciate the peace. She slept facing me, looking younger than her years. I got up quietly, made coffee, and checked the morning report. Twelve territories were now using the democratic model, three more were discussing it, and trade revenue was climbing. Even the hockey franchise had a new deal that I knew would make Penelope happy. Soon, I heard her moving around.She came out in sweatpants and one of my old Frostfang practice shirts that she'd claimed months ago and never given back. "Coffee," she said. "Counter," I said. She poured a cup and
Timothy's POVTwo years after the kidnapping, I stood in a conference room in neutral territory with eleven other Alphas and watched them vote to adopt the Frostfang democratic model for their own packs.It wasn't just a trial; it was a permanent, binding shift toward accountability.I stayed professional through the vote and the handshakes, giving Elena the quotes she needed for the press. When I finally got to the car, I sat in silence for a full minute. Ethan, who was driving, didn't say a word—he just let me process it."Years ago," I said finally, "Viktor told me the only thing that mattered was strength. That philosophy was just a decoration for power.""I remember," Ethan said."Twelve packs," I said. "Twelve packs just voted to share power with their own councils.""He was wrong," he said simply."Yeah," I said. "He was."Over the following months, we built the actual foundation for this change. We moved beyond ideas and created real infrastructure: leadership training at Fros
Penelope's POVThe hardest part of recovery was the days that looked fine from the outside. I could smile across a council table and follow the agenda and make good arguments about trade policy, and then drive home afterward with my hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly because a truck had pulled up alongside me at a red light and the driver had gray hair and for one fractured second my whole nervous system had screamed Viktor. It wasn't Viktor. It was a man in his sixties with a grocery bag on the passenger seat.I didn't tell Timothy about that one instead I told the counselor on Thursday."You're managing," Dr. Osei said, in the measured tone she used when she meant something more than the words. "But managing isn't the same as healing, are you letting people see the hard days?""Timothy sees them," I said."Your husband isn't a therapist," she said, not unkindly. "He's a resource, not a treatment. The people around you can support you, but they can't do this for you.""I k
Timothy pov "Son of a bitch," I breathe, taking the report from her. The evidence is right there in black and white—forged signatures, planted evidence, paid witnesses. "He destroyed all those families?""Systematically," Mr Hale says, his voice hard. "Over fifteen years. We weren't the first and
Liam's POVThe whiskey tastes terrible but I pour another glass anyway, sitting alone in my apartment while the pack house buzzes with activity below. Someone's throwing a party, celebrating our latest hockey win. I should be down there, leading the celebration like a good Alpha heir.Instead, I'm
Penelope's POVThe Reed family's house is bigger than I expected, a sprawling ranch-style home on the outskirts of Frostfang territory. Cars fill the driveway when Timothy and I arrive—we're the last ones here."Are you ready for this?" Timothy asks, cutting the engine."Not really," I admit. "Meet
Liam pov "It's not," Isla says. "It's just hard, it requires actually examining your motives, admitting your flaws, changing your behavior. Most people aren't willing to do that work.""Are you?" I ask, curious despite my misery."I'm working on it," Isla says honestly. "I enabled a lot of your be







