The Alpha’s Penalty

{THE COLD TRUTH}

My hands were shaking again.

I wiped them on my pads, but the sweat came right back, slicking the inside of my gloves. Eight seconds left on the clock. Eight seconds between me and the only thing I had ever wanted: proof that I belonged here.

The arena was so loud I could barely think. Ten thousand people screaming, the band blaring, the air horns cutting through the chill of the rink.

But all I could see was the scoreboard: Wolves 78, Cardinals 80.

We were down by two.

"Becca!"

The voice barked through the noise. I shifted my head toward the sound, shaking the sweat out of my eyes. Jaxon, our coach, was gesturing me over.

I skated toward the bench, the ice crunching under my blades. As soon as I was in reach, he grabbed my arm, pulling me close. His smell hit me hard—sandalwood and something dark and dangerous.

It made my Omega core tremble, a reaction I hated with every fiber of my being.

Jaxon wore his coach's uniform like a second skin, sleeves rolled up to reveal the thick, complicated tattoos crawling up his forearms.

He was twenty-eight, devastatingly handsome, and he never let me forget that he hated the very ground I skated on.

"Don't you dare fuck this up, Omega," he hissed, his face inches from mine. His eyes burned with a cold fire. "This isn't dress-up. You see an opening, you pass. You hear me? You pass to Cole. Do your job and stay out of the way."

He let me go with a shove that made me stumble back on my skates. I stared at him, my throat too tight to speak.

I wanted to scream that I was more than my status, more than the rich girl whose mom funded the new training center. But I just nodded.

If I spoke, I would get benched. As the only girl and the only Omega on this team, keeping my head down was the only way to stay on the ice.

I skated back to my spot.

My teammates gave me the same look Jaxon did—skepticism, bordering on disgust. Cole leaned in, his voice a low sneer.

"Don't mess up, Becca. Some of us actually have a future in this sport."

My legs felt weird, like they might give out, but not from being tired. It was nerves. If I got kicked off this team, it was business school.

It was the end of the dream I shared with my late father—a Beta who had been a hockey legend.

I was doing this for him.

The whistle blew.

Trevor played the puck, and I took off. I saw the opening. I saw the lane. I screamed for the pass, my stick hitting the ice, but they ignored me.

They were doing it on purpose. I glanced at the bench. Jaxon was signaling them to freeze me out.

Anger, hot and crude, awakened in my chest.

Eight seconds.

I wasn't going to let them take this. I had worked too hard. I deserved this ice just as much as any Alpha in the room.

The puck was with Cole now. Two rival players were closing in on him, smiles on their faces, ready to flatten him. My wolf roared to life inside me.

I charged. I did not wait. I dodged the defenders, picking up a pace that felt like flying.

I heard Jaxon's voice screaming my surname across the rink, a command to stop, but for the first time in my life, I didn't care.

I was done playing by his rules.

I blocked the puck right off Cole's stick. He yelled something, a curse that drowned in the roar of the crowd. Every eye in the arena shifted to me.

The commentators' voices reached a fever pitch.

Suddenly, everything went quiet. It was like the rink froze.

Five seconds. Four.

I saw the net. I saw the goalie. I thought, 'Papa, are you watching?'

I planted my skates, memory taking over. Every practice I had done alone because no one wanted to work with a girl. Every hour spent on the ice when the sun wasn't even up.

I launched the puck.

Time slowed. It floated through the air, a perfect, deadly arc.

Swish.

The net rippled. The scoreboard flipped: 81-80.

The buzzer went off and the place exploded. Really exploded. Confetti rained down like snow. My teammates...even the ones who hated me...raced over, ruffling my wet bob, patting my back in shock.

"Nice shot, Becca!" Trevor yelled.

"You moved like a damn flash," someone else laughed.

But my eyes drifted to the bench. Jaxon stood there, his face a mask of cold, unimpressed stone. My laugh died in my throat.

As we stepped off the ice, the cameras found me instantly. Microphones were shoved in my face.

"Miss McCall! How does it feel to be the only girl to score a championship-winning goal?"

"Is it true you chose hockey because of your father?"

I answered them as best I could, but my eyes were wandering. I found my mom and my best friend, Eve, in the stands. They were wearing jerseys with my name and number, waving a scarf they had made.

My mom looked more like my sister, her eyes bright with tears.

Then I saw him.

At the far end of the stands stood Gavin, my stepbrother. He was Jaxon's best friend and his Beta—a double dose of torment in my life.

He was watching us with his arms folded.

He waved at Jaxon, and I felt a shiver of dread.

Jaxon was already moving toward me, pushing the reporters aside. He clipped my shoulder with enough force to make me wince, putting on a fake, tight smile for the cameras.

Then he leaned down, his lips brushing my ear, his scent flooding my senses until my knees felt weak.

"The locker room, little Omega," he whispered, his voice a dark promise that sent a terrifying heat straight to my belly.

"Now."

Before I could breathe, he turned back to the reporters, his hand still heavy on my shoulder, and started answering their questions like he hadn't just promised to ruin me.

*********************

I stood there like a statue as Jaxon and the rest of the team fielded questions.

The crowd was still a deafening roar, the band was playing a victory march, but my internal world was a chaotic mess.

My skin was on fire.

Jaxon hadn't moved his hand from my shoulder, and his thumb was digging just slightly into the sensitive junction of my neck.

I risked a glance up at him.

His jaw was set, a sharp line of granite, but his eyes were already on me. When our gazes locked, the air left my lungs.

There was something dark in his expression—not just anger, but a predatory curiosity that made my wolf pace restlessly under my skin.

I looked away fast, biting my lower lip until I tasted blood.

"Miss McCall!" a reporter shouted, shoving a mic toward my face. "Will we see this kind of performance in the next game? Or was that just a lucky break?"

I nodded once, my throat too tight to trust my voice.

I didn't want them to hear the tremor in it. I didn't want them to know how much the man standing next to me was affecting my biology.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother and Eve jumping the barrier, making their way toward the ice.

"If that's all..." I muttered, pulling away.

The reporters barely noticed, already turning their attention to Cole, who was more than happy to soak up the limelight.

I started to head toward the stands, but Jaxon's hand slid from my shoulder to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling briefly in my wet hair.

The contact was fast, but it felt like a trademark.

"Come on, Coach," I whispered, my heart beating against my ribs. "My mom is right there. Let me go."

He looked at my mother, then back at me. His blue eyes were cold as the ice we stood on. "Five minutes, McCall. Do not make me come and get you."

I rolled my eyes, though my stomach did a nervous flip.

I watched him walk away, he walked strongly and confidently. He met Gavin near the player entrance. They stood together, two titans of the sport, looking like they owned the arena.

"Becca! Sweetheart, Oh my god!"

My mother's voice broke through the haze.

She threw her arms around me, the familiar scent of vanilla and home-cooked meals washing over me. It smelled very different from the rough, manly smell of the locker room.

"I'm so proud of you, baby," she whispered, pulling back to cup my face. "Your father... he would have been cheering the loudest. You looked just like him out there."

"Thanks, Mom," I said, feeling a lump form in my throat.

I did this for him, but I also did it for the woman who worked overtime to make sure I had the best skates.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced at it and sighed. "It's the office. I have to take this, but I will meet you by the car, okay? Eve, look after her."

As my mom stepped away, Eve leaned into my side, ruffling my hair. "Look at you, the 'Ice Queen' actually thawed out long enough to score. But seriously, Becca... the way Gavin and Jaxon are watching you? It's kind of terrifying. And also... really hot."

I groaned. "Eve, please. That's my stepbrother and my coach. Both of whom hate my guts."

"I know, I know," Eve said, her eyes drifting toward the tunnel where Jaxon was still standing.

"But Jaxon? Six-foot-three of pure muscle, that messy dark hair, and those eyes? He looks like he wants to eat you alive. He should be happy to have you on the team instead of giving you such a hard time."

I followed her gaze.

Jaxon must have felt me staring because he turned. Even from fifty feet away, it felt like his stare was pushing down on me. He was the perfect Alpha—a former star, a natural leader, and a total bastard.

"Isn't he the most tempting nightmare you've ever seen?" Eve nudged me, her voice teasing.

"He's a nightmare, period," I muttered, but my wolf disagreed.

My inner Omega was practically purring at the sight of him, a betrayal I wasn't ready to deal with.

Then, his voice cut through the noise of the arena, harsh and commanding.

"MCCALL!"

The use of my surname was a slap. He didn't look at Eve; his eyes were pinned solely on me. He jerked his head toward the dark hallway leading to the back of the arena.

"Locker room. Now."

Eve whistled low, her eyes wide. "Oof. Looks like you're already in the Coach's bad book before the celebration even starts."

"Yeah," I said, my hand shaking as I adjusted my gear. "Tell me about it."

I started walking toward the tunnel, toward the dark and the cold, and toward the man who held my future in the palm of his hand.