ANMELDENOrion POVI was looking at my phone at 10:43 p.m., and the moment I read the post, I knew who was behind it, not because Dain Voss' name was on it. That was exactly the problem.The post was on a forum where scouts, coaches, and sports people talk, posted from an anonymous account with no proof attached, just one sentence:One of Northveil's players might not be who they say they are.No names, no accusations. It was still a very big deal.I was sitting on my hotel bed staring at the screen while comments appeared faster than I could read them. Some people were saying wait, what is going on? Others were asking, " Are we talking about the thing that happened in the tunnel again? Someone wrote, " Everyone knows who this is about, and someone else replied if this is true, it is a deal. Not everyone had known — but now they were starting to figure it out.I kept scrolling. More comments appeared every second. Some people were talking about the thing with the scent. Someone from Ironclad m
Lucian POVThe arena was almost empty after practice. There were still some noises, though- equipment being moved around somewhere, a Zamboni humming quietly under the stands, voices in the distance that were gone in a second.The ice was dark and still. The only light came from the blue glow that spread across the rink. The championship banners above the rafters were barely moving in the air conditioning.I sat alone in front of my locker, staring at nothing. My gear bag was open on the floor. I could see all my stuff inside: tape rolls, extra laces, my old gloves, and my skates.I should have gone back to the hotel. We had a game coming up tomorrow, and Coach wanted us to get some rest. The media was all over us, and every interview felt like I was being questioned by the police.But that was not why I stayed behind.The real reason was Orion. Just thinking about him made my chest feel tight. This thing between us was not temporary anymore. It had not been temporary for a long time,
Orion POVLucian fell asleep sometime after three in the morning. Not suddenly, but slowly, exhaustion dragged him down piece by piece as he fought it all the way. His head rested against my shoulder, one hand still loosely twisted in my shirt, as if part of him refused to let go even unconsciously.The room stayed dark, lit only by the weak gold glow near the window. Rain tapped softly against the glass. But I couldn't sleep. Lucian smelled like me now, not fully, but enough that every Alpha instinct inside me stayed painfully alert.My scent spread through the room until it wrapped around him completely, protective, possessive, and dangerously close to becoming something neither of us could take back.I looked down at the top of his head resting near my chest, damp dark hair, relaxed breathing, the faint healing cut above his brow barely visible. He looked younger asleep, less sharp, less guarded. Like the constant fight inside him finally quieted enough to breathe.My fingers tight
Lucian POVThe hotel hallway had been silent at two in the morning when I arrived at Orion's door, a quiet surrender born from want rather than crisis or heat or necessity, and now we lay tangled together on his bed as rain tapped softly against the windowpane outside; but there is no sleep for us yet because something else has shifted between us tonight: an unspoken understanding born from weeks spent fighting this pull only for our bodies (and hearts) finally deciding enough is enough.I stirred against Orion's shoulder where I'd been resting with half-closed eyes; exhaustion tugged at me, but unable to fully claim me while his thumb traced slow circles along my hipbone over my shirt, a gentle yet possessive touch that sent shivers rippling through my tired frame each time those strong fingers brushed bare skin where fabric had ridden up during our earlier closeness."Can't sleep?" Orion murmured into my hair without opening his own eyes; his voice low enough not to break the fragil
Orion POVThe standings changed overnight.Northveil moved into third after the Ironclad won a point behind East Dominion. Suddenly, we were close enough to taste the championship nobody thought we'd catch this season. The media called it a miracle. Coach Mercer called it dangerous. I understood why, the morning when I walked into practice.The atmosphere had changed. Not nervous. Hungry. Players moved faster during warm-ups. Conversations sharpened around playoff math and schedules. Reporters packed the glass with cameras following Lucian and me like they expected another viral moment on the ice.Maybe they did. The Twin Aces story had grown bigger than hockey. Big stories attract scrutiny.I leaned against the boards while assistants reset drills. Gloves hung loose in one hand. Helmet tucked under my arm. My focus stayed on him without deciding to.Lucian. Far side of the ice. Running edge drills sharp turns, controlled pivots, and quick transitions. To anyone watching casually, he
Lucian POVThe media room smelled like burnt coffee and hot camera equipment. It was packed with people waiting for me to slip up. I had dealt with this kind before, and I still didn’t like them.I fixed my jacket and stepped inside.The moment I entered, the cameras went off. Voices shouted from every direction."Lucian!""Virek, here!""Question about the footage!"No surprise there. The coach kept walking. I stayed with him because I knew I had to keep it together. Everything depended on that.We sat at the table up front, microphones lined across the surface. I kept my shoulders relaxed and my expression blank, waiting.The coach opened with the usual, talking about the team's win, the playoffs, while the reporters sat politely waiting for the questions to start.They came fast."Lucian, how bad was the injury above your eye?" a reporter asked, already scribbling notes."Four stitches," I replied. "Not serious.""Did you feel pressure to keep playing?""No."Another cut in. "Did O







