Chapter 3 — No Distance Left

Lucian POV

The next morning, the main camp turned into a live war zone. The veteran roster was back from the off-season, and they weren’t about to let unranked rookies take their contract spots without drawing blood. The atmosphere in the facility was entirely different now, heavy and dripping with aggressive Alpha energy. Every breath in that room felt like inhaling pure friction.

The head coach yelled from the bench, his voice echoing off the steel rafters. "Pairs! Two-on-two board battles in the greasy zones. Protect the puck, finish your checks, and prove you belong on this ice. Go!"

I grabbed my stick, keeping my eyes down toward the frost gathered around my skates. I looked around the blue line for a Beta or a lower-tier Alpha rookie to partner with. I didn't need glory today. I just needed to blend into the background, execute the drill cleanly, and survive the rotation without my elevated heart rate burning through my morning dose of suppressants.

Suddenly, a heavy, leather-padded glove gripped the shoulder of my jersey from behind. The physical force yanked me backward, dragging me off balance until my blades cut a sharp groove into the ice.

"You're with me."

I turned my head sharply, my plastic visor nearly clashing against his. Orion Kael stood towering over me in his dark home-team jersey. The heavy captain's 'C' stitched onto his left chest felt like a burning brand in my peripheral vision. The rest of the team went dead silent. The locker-room chatter evaporated instantly as thirty veteran Alphas watched their captain claim an unknown rookie for the most violent drill of the morning.

I kept my voice low enough so the coaching staff standing by the benches couldn't hear the venom. "I don't need your charity, Kael."

"This isn't charity, Virek." Orion locked his dark eyes onto mine through his tinted visor. "It’s an evaluation. Now shut up and skate."

The whistle blew like a gunshot. The assistant coach dumped a loose puck deep into the corner of the zone, and the four of us exploded forward in a blur of carbon fiber and steel. My skates bit hard into the ice, my acceleration pulling me half a step ahead of the veteran defenders. But the moment we crossed the hash marks, it became clear that Orion wasn't playing the drill against the opposing pairing. He was targeting me.

During the zone entry, Orion cut off the defender. Instead of passing the puck to me across the wide, open ice, he angled his massive frame directly into my skating lane. Before I could pivot to escape, he drove his shoulder into my chest, slamming me hard into the reinforced plexiglass boards.

BANG.

The heavy impact rattled my teeth and sent a jarring shockwave straight up my spine, knocking the wind completely out of my lungs. Orion pinned me against the wall, his muscular body crushing mine flat against the glass right in front of the entire coaching staff. To the bleachers and the scouts watching from the press box, it looked like a standard, high-intensity hockey battle for positioning.

Against the glass, the reality was terrifying. Orion’s heavy weight completely suffocated me, trapping my arms flat against my sides. His visor clashed against mine with a sharp ring, and the dark-wood scent of his dominant Alpha pheromones poured over me, cutting off my oxygen.

Orion tightened his hold, his chest rising and falling heavily against mine. "Your breath is short, Lucian. The double-dose of suppressants is burning out your lungs, isn't it? You can barely absorb a standard check. Yield right now, and I'll call a line change before you collapse on my ice."

Pure rage exploded through my veins, melting the icy mask I had worked so hard to maintain. He wasn't just testing me; he was trying to force me to submit in front of the very people who held my career in their hands.

"Screw you."

I brought my skate down hard on his laces, pinning his foot to the ice, while simultaneously driving my elbow up into his reinforced ribs. The sudden flash of physical pain forced him to lose his grip for a fraction of a second.

That was all the space I needed. I twisted my hips out of his hold, dropped my shoulder, and stole the puck right off the toe of his blade. In one fluid, explosive motion, I spun away from the boards, walked into the low slot, and fired a blistering snapshot into the back of the net.

The red light flashed. The net rippled. A goal.

I turned back slowly, my chest heaving as the adrenaline burned through my blood, masking the tremor in my legs. I pointed the black tape of my stick directly at his chest, my eyes wild. "Don't ever test me on my ice again, Captain."

He didn't answer. He took a single, slow step toward me, the steel of his skates cutting a deep, deliberate line into the frost. The heavy scent of cedar flared off him—a hot wave that pushed past my visor and filled my mouth. My lungs rebelled, choking on the raw authority of it. The entire arena remained frozen, waiting for the captain to strike me down for the blatant disrespect.

Instead, his mouth curved into a hard, dark line. He tilted his head, his focus dropping to the desperate pulse hammering in my neck. Orion stood stationary at the blue line, slowly wiping a smear of frost from his visor with the back of his glove. He didn't look angry. His pupils were wide, dark, and completely consumed by an intense hunger. I hadn't just defended myself; I had physically challenged the king in front of his entire court, and he loved it.

I turned to skate back to the bench. Suddenly, a white-hot spasm tore through my lower abdomen. My vision completely blacked out for a terrifying heartbeat, and my knees buckled beneath my pads.

The brutal shockwave of Orion's check hadn't just bruised my ribs. The force, combined with the suffocating density of his pheromones, had completely shattered the chemical wall of my suppressants. A heavy, sweet heat flushed beneath my skin. My cycle wasn't days away anymore. It was triggering right now, and the final horn hadn't even blown.