اختلاج روح

Lucian POV

People say Omegas do not belong on the ice. They are right. If an Omega gets caught in this pro league, they do not just get cut from the team. They get physically broken. The rule is not written down, but everyone knows it. I saw it in the cold looks from scouts, and I felt it in the quick rejections from coaches. To the team owners, Omegas are a liability. They think we are too fragile for the hits, so I learned to hide in plain sight.

The locker room was packed when I walked in. The air was thick with sweat, leather, and the heavy scents of aggressive Alphas. The smells fought for territory in the small space, making my lungs sting. Keeping my face blank, I stood tall and walked past the benches like a Beta who belonged there. I gripped my gear bag and kept my eyes straight ahead. The loud talking dropped a bit as I passed. The Alphas could sense a stranger.

I took the last open locker in the far corner, sat on the wooden bench, and began to lace my skates. When my hands started to shake, I forced them to stay steady. At the back of my throat, my illegal medicine burned like battery acid. The dose I took this morning was dangerously high, leaving my body feeling numb. But it worked. It had to work. If my real scent leaked now, I wouldn't make it out of the building alive.

A massive, broad-shouldered Alpha leaned against the locker next to mine. "New?"

I kept my eyes down on my skates. "Yes."

"I didn't see your name on the tryout lists."

"Private invite."

He let out a short laugh, looking over my lean frame. "You must have big connections. Good luck out there, kid. You're going to need it."

I didn't answer. I pulled my laces tight, stood up, and grabbed my stick. Before he could ask any more questions, I bolted down the dark tunnel. The hallway to the rink was freezing, but ahead, the big doors stood open to reveal bright white light. I took one deep breath and pushed through.

The ice was wide and clean under the bright lights.

The head coach blew his whistle. "Line up!"

Players moved fast, their skates spraying ice as I stepped into the middle of the line to blend in. The competitive energy in the queue was thick enough to choke on.

The whistle blew again, and the drills started. On the very first sharp turn, a huge Alpha defenseman drove a rookie headfirst into the wall.

CRACK.

The sound of a helmet breaking echoed through the empty arena. The rookie hit the glass and collapsed onto the ice, leaving a bright smear of blood behind. The coaches didn't even blink.

"Clear him off!" the coach barked, waving his clipboard. "Next line, let's go! Keep up the pace!"

Fear shot through my veins. If I took a hit like that without an Alpha's strong bones, my body would shatter.

"Again!"

The next drill was puck-handling under pressure. An Alpha defenseman dropped his shoulder and charged right at my head, trying to take me out completely. I waited. At the final split second, I dropped low, dug my skates into the ice, and spun out of the way. The defenseman hit empty air and crashed into the wall while I took the loose puck and skated forward fast. Another defender rushed to block me, but I flicked the puck between his skates, caught it on the other side, and shot.

The net rippled. A goal.

The head coach slammed his stick against the wooden boards. "Again! Back of the line, rookie! Do it again!"

I skated back into the rotation, my chest heaving. The heavy chemical suppressants were choking my oxygen intake, making my lungs scream for a deep breath, but I locked my jaw tight. No panting. No signs of struggle.

The whistle shrieked, and another black rubber disc dropped into the circle.

This time, two veteran defensemen trapped me at the hash marks, coming together like a physical vice. One matched my speed to cut off my lane while the other raised his heavy, reinforced forearm to pin my throat against the top ridge of the wall.

I slammed on my brakes. Steel scraped ice with a sharp hiss, spraying a blinding white cloud of frost directly into the first defender's visor. Dropping my center of gravity low, I slid completely under his outstretched arm, leaving the two massive Alphas to smash into each other.

THUD.

The impact shattered the quiet of the rink and rattled the plexiglass. I collected the loose puck across the blue line, faked a hard backhand shot to force the goalie to move, and tucked the puck into the opposite top corner instead.

"Watch your back, rookie!" a veteran enforcer shouted from the bench, slamming his gloved hand against the wood.

The threat hung in the freezing air. They hated getting embarrassed by an unranked name.

I slid to a stop, and the arena went dead silent. Thirty Alphas turned their heads to look at me, the unknown rookie who had just humiliated their best veteran players.

Suddenly, a heavy pressure dropped over the ice, making the air feel ten times thicker. I looked up toward the luxury seats above the glass.

Orion Kael stood by the railing.

He wore a dark suit, but he carried more authority than anyone else in the building. Orion was the team captain, the rich heir to the franchise, and the most dangerous Alpha in the league. He didn't blink. Leaning against the glass, his dark eyes stared right through my helmet, locking directly onto the fast, panicked pulse beating in my neck.

I tried to breathe normally to keep up the disguise, but my heart rate spiked. A wave of intense heat flashed through my body, fighting against the bitter medicine. The heavy pressure had broken my defenses. The medicine was wearing off, and the captain was staring right at my secret.