chapter five: The Silence

I stood frozen in the dim concrete hallway, my back pressed against the cold wall like it could somehow save me. The silence pressed down, thick and heavy. My pulse hammered so fiercely I could feel it in my teeth. Every part of me screamed to run, but my legs refused to move.

Roland did not rush. He never did. He moved as if he owned the entire arena, as if the shadows themselves bent for him. When he finally stopped, he was close enough that I could smell pine, frozen lake water, and that deeper scent beneath. Wild. Ancient. Terrifyingly good.

"You are a terrible liar," Roland said.

I swallowed hard. "I do not know what you are talking about."

Roland's lips curled into a slow, dangerous smirk. He studied my face the way a wolf watches a rabbit that suddenly looks interesting. His gloved hand rose, tilting my chin with one finger. Our eyes locked.

"The pack thinks you are Lucien," Roland whispered. His thumb brushed over my bottom lip, slow and deliberate. "Your father must be proud of his little switch. But Lucien was never this soft. He did not tremble like this."

My breath hitched. Heat flooded my body, pooling low in my stomach. I hated how my skin flushed.

Roland leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of my ear. "You smell like an omega begging to be claimed, little fake."

I expected anger. I expected exposure. What I got instead was that same dark smirk, deeper now, almost hungry.

Roland pulled back just enough to meet my eyes again. "But I am not going to say anything."

I blinked. "What?"

"You heard me." His voice lowered even more. "I am going to keep your dirty little secret. For now."

He stepped closer, pressing me harder against the wall. The heat radiating off him was intense. Broad shoulders. Powerful chest. Roland was arrogance wrapped in muscle and perfect bone structure. He looked like sin dressed in a hockey jersey.

"Why?" I breathed.

"Because destroying you immediately would be boring." Roland's hand slid down, resting heavily over my racing heart. "I want to see you squirm. I want to break you slowly on that ice until you forget your own name. And when you finally crack, I will be the only one who knows exactly why."

Then Roland kissed me.

My hands shot up, gripping his jersey like it was the only solid thing left in the world. My heart raced so fast I felt dizzy. Just from a kiss. Just from Roland's hand on my chest.

When he finally pulled away, his smirk returned, sharper than ever. "Practice tomorrow. Early. Do not be late, Jeffery."

He turned and walked away without another word, leaving me slumped against the wall, lips swollen and mind spinning.

***

The next morning, the rink felt like a battleground.

I laced up my skates with trembling fingers. I was supposed to be Lucien. Confident. Sharp. Untouchable. Instead, I felt like a fraud wearing someone else's gear.

The team moved around me, loud and rough, but all I could focus on was Roland. He skated as if he was born on blades. Arrogant strides. Powerful pushes. Every movement screaming control. And God, he was stunning under the bright lights. Sweat already made his dark hair stick to his forehead. Muscles flexed beneath his practice jersey.

"Fake," Roland muttered as he skated past during warm ups, close enough that his shoulder brushed mine. No one else heard it.

The drills commenced. Passing. Checking. Speed runs. Roland kept finding reasons to get close. During one drill, he accidentally slammed into me, pinning me against the boards for half a second longer than necessary.

"Careful, omega," Roland whispered, breath hot against my neck. "You are getting hard again."

My face burned. The thin layers of our gear did nothing to conceal how my body responded. It made no sense. I was terrified of this man. Roland could ruin everything with one word.

What the hell is wrong with me?

But Roland was not finished. During a one on one rehearsal drill, he attacked me like a storm. We crashed together near the goal. His larger body easily overpowered me, pressing me down against the ice. Our faces were inches apart.

"Struggling already?" Roland murmured, voice low enough for only me to hear. One of his hands slid down, gripping my hip tightly. "Your body knows who owns it. Even if your mouth keeps lying."

I bit back a sound I refused to name. The pressure of Roland's thigh between my legs made everything worse. I wanted to push him away. I wanted to pull him closer. The confusion made my head spin.

"Get off me."

Roland just smirked and pressed harder for a dangerous second before skating away, laughing as if it were all a joke.

The rest of practice was torture. Every check carried a hidden meaning. Every time Roland corrected my form, his hands lingered on my lower back, my thigh, the back of my neck. Each touch felt like a brand. Each whisper sent fresh waves of unwanted heat through my body.

By the end, I was exhausted, sweaty, and barely able to think straight. The worst part? Roland looked perfectly calm. Arrogant. In control. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

***

In the locker room, most of the team had already left. I sat on the bench, trying to get my breathing under control.

Roland appeared in front of me, shirtless, towel slung low on his hips. Water droplets ran down his chiseled abs. He looked like a god who enjoyed breaking mortals.

"You did better today," Roland said, voice casual. Then he leaned down, bracing one hand on the locker behind my head. "But we both know you are still faking it. On the ice and in your head."

I looked up. My mouth felt dry. "Why are you doing this?"

Roland's smile was slow, cruel, and unfairly attractive. "Because I can. Because watching you fight how much you want this is the most fun I have had in years." He reached out and brushed a thumb over my bottom lip again, just like in the hallway. "And because deep down, you do not want me to stop."

He straightened up and walked toward the showers, leaving me sitting there, heart racing, body aching, and terrifyingly aware that I was already hooked.

The silence between us was no longer empty. It was filled with promises. Dark, dangerous promises.

And I was not sure I wanted to escape.