น่าเสียดายสามีข้าตายไปนานแล้ว

ARIA

We're losing the game, and I've never felt as tense as I do now.

I can practically taste our defeat in the air, and there's no doubt that the players can, too. The Silvertails have always been Ironclaw's biggest enemies—their winning this hockey match in our territory would make things even more painful for us.

I watch as the bodies of the players collide with each other, the ice cracking beneath their skates. It's violent, so much that blood is splattered all over the ice.

I've seen plenty of blood in the two months that I've been working as an intern nurse for the team, but tonight, things are different.

This isn't just a game—it's a war.

"By the goddess, damn him," the coach, my uncle Barty Murdock, says as he runs his fingers through his hair. His face is bright red from the stress, and he's sweating even though it's pretty cold all around us. "He's going to get hurt. He's not watching his left side!"

My uncle is referring to the team captain, the Alpha's son. His uniform is covered in blood, and his helmet is broken but he won't stop to get a replacement. The whole team is counting on him to win—he's known for pulling miraculous tricks that bring the win home. Ryder Drexel is Ironclaw's hero.

I bet every eye in the stadium is on him.

"You've got your kit stocked, right?" he asks me.

"Of course."

Suddenly, he's slammed against the boards, and the sound is so loud that the crowd gasps in shock. I watch, dumbstruck, as Ryder hits the side of his head on the ice, the skin splitting open, blood trickling everywhere.

Before I can even react, I'm on my feet, reaching for my kit.

"Drexel, off the ice. Now!" my uncle yells from beside me. He's right behind me, and my eyes are on Ryder. His jaw is clenched and he looks pissed. Usually, he'll agree with my uncle and tell him he's fine and can continue—he's been doing that the whole game.

This is how I know that this injury is serious.

I meet him at the gate, but he doesn't even look at me. Behind me, Uncle Barty says, "Dammit, I told you to watch that side!"

We're heading toward the medical room just near the rink, and Ryder kicks the door open. It crashes against the wall, making a loud sound that makes me flinch. "Fuck!" he roars before his eyes fall on my uncle. "Get me stitched up fast. I need to get back there!"

"Aria," my uncle says, glancing at me. "How long will it take?"

I put on my gloves, then open the kit as Ryder takes a seat. My pulse is racing. I've never been this nervous in all my life. "Maybe ten minutes if—"

"Whoa, whoa. Wait a fucking second," Ryder says aggressively, his cold blue eyes on me. "You're having the intern stitch me up? Are you kidding me?"

"This is my niece, Aria, and she's very—"

"I don't care who she is," he spits. "Get me a real medic. Where's Dan?"

The words tumble out of my lips before I can give them a second thought. "I'm good at my job, otherwise I wouldn't be here. Dan's off. He's not here, clearly."

My heart is beating unbelievably faster, and I have this throbbing in my head that worsens my mood. It came on so suddenly and I have no idea why.

Blood continues trickling down his face, albeit slowly. He gives me a look laced with disgust that enrages me even more. I hold out the needle. "But if you think you can do a better job, you're free to botch yourself. I couldn't care less."

"Aria," my uncle says in warning.

"In fact, I couldn't care if you lived or died."

"Aria!" he exclaims. "You're both wasting time! Every minute you spend in here gives those fuckers a win, Drexel!"

Again, his distrustful eyes return to my face. I watch as his nostrils flare, and this look crosses his eyes that I don't bother to read. Then, without another word, he turns his head to the side and I get to work, making the stitches as neat as I can, considering there isn't much time and my hands are shaking from my nerves. I rarely lose my temper, but if there's one thing I can't stand, it's someone trying to bring my work down.

It's all I have, and I'm damn proud of it.

I've never encountered him before. He usually ignores his injuries, but not only that—because he's the Alpha's son, he gets the best treatment. An intern like me would never have been allowed to touch him if it weren't for the fact that Dan, the team's medic, left early due to a serious family emergency.

I stitch up the other guys, who never complain.

His reaction makes me respect him a little less.

"There," I remark, stepping back. "All finished."

He leaves the room like lightning, leaving me and my uncle alone. I pack the kit and work on disinfecting it. Uncle Barty sighs and says, "You shouldn't have done that, Aria."

I don't answer him.

"He's the Alpha's son. He has influence. He's the last person in the world that you want on your bad side."

"He's an asshole."

"A powerful asshole," he reminds me. After a beat, he sighs. "I wouldn't have been saying this to you if it weren't for...you know...that thing we can't discuss. You know what happens if you attract too much attention to yourself. We've been working on this for years and you've fought hard to be here. Remember that."

My shoulders sag, and I let out a breath before meeting his gaze. His eyes are filled with sympathy—I know he's not saying this out of malice. Uncle Barty is the fairest person I know.

He closes the distance between us and kisses my forehead. "I have to head back. That team needs me." The crowd roars, and I wonder if our team scored. His smile broadens and he adds, "I'm proud of you, though."

I smile, too. "Thanks, Unc."

He heads out, leaving me alone for a few minutes. Honestly, I can't understand why I got so mad. I guess it's the way he spoke to me—like I was nothing.

Maybe it's the tension of the game we're losing. It's impossible for me not to be involved in hockey when I've lived with Uncle Barty since I was six years old and hockey's his whole life.

I knew everything about hockey before I memorized the times table.

I close my kit and head back out, determined to make the most of the evening and not let that brute's words get to me. I'm here for a purpose, like my uncle said, and nothing can take that away from me.

I'm the best intern around. My work is meticulous, and I heal every wound I touch uncommonly fast. They've dubbed me the Healing Thumb in my class—I'm doing pretty well and that can't be jeopardized by something so foolish.

Uncle Barty is right—I have to be careful. If people around here find out the truth of what I am, I'm a dead woman.

Dead, dead, dead.

I'm just nearing the bench when Ryder scores the last goal, the puck slamming against the net. The crowd roars, and I watch Uncle Barty jump out of his seat and throw his arms in the air victoriously.

I can't help but smile. My heart is relieved—we've won! What can be better than that?

The players celebrate in the rink and I start toward my uncle to congratulate him. As I move toward him, my eyes briefly scan the rink, and every inch of me turns to ice when I make eye contact with Ryder. It's so unexpected that for a moment, I don't know how to react.

Why's he looking at me like that?

I look away first, ignoring his look, and make my way to my uncle's side. He picks me up and kisses my cheek repeatedly. "We won! Dammit, we won!"

I allow myself to celebrate and soon, forget all about Ryder Drexel and his look.