Semua Bab The Billionaire Alpha's Sin Bin: Bab 1 - Bab 10

(Damian’s POV)I had never hated hope more than I did when Logan Cross touched the puck.From my glass box above the rink, I could see the s blades carving the ice, the red-and-white blur of jerseys, the breath of twenty thousand fans fogging up the rafters. And him. Always him.Logan was a brash, reckless twenty-two year old with curly hair that refused to stay down and green eyes that were as sharp as glass, and he had the kind of arrogance that made people lean into him even though they silently despised him. But he had the right to be arrogant, because he was the best hockey player in the country.I had staked everything on that arrogance for my team.The Chicago Phantoms weren’t just my team,they were also mixed in with members of my pack. Our championship run was tied directly to the biggest sponsorship deal in league history with Titan Energy. If we didn’t win, if Logan didn’t deliver… then the deal collapsed, and with it, the illusion of control I had built since inheriting my

(Damian’s POV)So. We lost the first game of the championship.And from the looks of it, Logan had lost the game purposely. He swerved left when he was supposed to swerve right. It was a simple strategy that every player was supposed to know. Damnit.The crowd’s roar was still ringing in my ears whenI left the arena. Logan had purposely humiliated me, but why? This was supposed to pay off only for it to slip away because Logan Cross couldn’t follow orders. My wolf snarled at me in the back of my skull. You wanted him. I shoved the thought down. Logan was a wildcard, brilliant one second and infuriating the next. If he weren’t so goddamn magnetic on the ice, I would’ve benched him already. But the sponsors had tied their millions to his name. My empire depended on him.That truth sat bitter on my tongue as I stalked into the private corridors, sweat cooling on my temples. Marcus was waiting for me by the exit. His face was too still. My beta never wore that expression unless the news

Logan stayed.That was the answer he’d given Julian, not in words, but in the way he’d walked out of that locker room after Julian’s offer. No amount of smooth talking or fat checks had pulled him away. He chose me.And I hated how much that mattered.Because he hadn’t chosen me, not really. He’d chosen the Phantoms. The ice. The chance to prove himself against me, under me. He wanted the war, not the man.And still my wolf pretended like he’d been claimed.The league assembly the next week dragged on way too long. Sponsors went on and on regarding branding, overseas streams, and performance provision. But I still hadn’t gotten over the fact that Julian had tried to steal my star player.I gritted my jaw in place, pretending to listen while my wolf grew restless. At the opposite end of the ancient oak table, Logan was perched, his pressed suit out of place on his rough build. Somehow his hair managed to look messy, and a part of me itched to bury my fingers in it.When the meeting fin

(Logan’s POV)I was exactly thirteen minutes and forty-two seconds late. I counted every single one of them as I walked toward the Executive Lounge, dragging the delay out like a fine torture.Damian Blackwell liked control. He liked precision. He liked knowing where every piece on his chessboard was, and right now, the most powerful piece, the one he’d just admitted he couldn't afford to lose, was wandering around enjoying the mild Chicago evening.The air still tasted like him. Not just the musky, expensive cologne, but the scent that had erupted from him in the elevator: stormy cedar and the sharp tang of his rage. I ran my tongue over my lower lip, remembering the brutal, demanding pressure of his mouth. He called it a "physiological response to panic." I called it a lie. It was a kiss that had cracked the foundation of my revenge.Don’t flatter yourself, Cross. I will take you apart piece by piece.The threat from the previous meeting had been a raw, vibrating shock of pure sexua

 (Damian’s POV)The silence of the arena was a living thing. It pressed down, mocking the vast, empty space. This was the practice rink, larger, colder, and more anonymous than the main stadium. I’d used my key fob to lock down every door and cut off the building’s main power supply, leaving only the buzzing, harsh white lights illuminating the ice.This was a containment zone. And the thing I was trying to contain, my wolf, my mate bond, and the player I was currently obsessed with, was standing twenty feet away, tightening his skate laces.You commanded him here. He obeyed. That is ours.The victory cry of the wolf grated on my nerves. This wasn't obedience; it was a calculated risk. Logan had packaged our destructive, soul-sh