All Chapters of Pucking The Alpha’s Daughter: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Madison  Nash doesn’t laugh. He just watches me, then the hallway, then me again. Suspicion casting a glaze over his eyes. Cole leans back in his chair, watching Nash stare blankly toward the hallway. “Buddy, you watch Mercer harder than your last girlfriend. You wanna talk about it?” Ryan laughs. “Seriously. He went to the bathroom, not war.” Nash ignores both of them and keeps watching the hallway. His expression is flat, but his eyes are sharp enough to cut. Something in him coils tight, like his wolf is listening for something he doesn’t quite understand yet. I take a slow sip of my drink, trying to ignore the way my wolf is pacing under my sk

Madison What the fuck was that?I didn’t even tell him to stop. The thought keeps circling in my head like a vulture. I built an entire new life to get over him and all it took was five minutes under a table to ruin it, bringing me back to that wide eyed girl still eager for his attention. I swallow the rest of my drink in a single gulp as if it’ll rinse some of the shame away. I hate that my body recognized him before my brain had the chance to tell me to run. I should’ve thrown my drink in his face. I should’ve left. I should’ve done a

JayThere are two ways to deal with game day.You either sit around all morning thinking about it like it matters more than it does, or you get up and burn through whatever’s trying to distract you before that puck drops.Madison Walker is exactly the problem I’m trying to work out of my system.Game days are supposed to be about discipline. The secret though? It’s the repetition, the focus and execution that keep you dangerous. Being in control right up until the moment you decide not to be.There&r

Jay There’s a dent in the metal of Ryan’s locker that wasn’t there yesterday.I notice it only because I’ve been staring at the same spot for the last five minutes. My elbow sits on my knee and tape hangs loose from my hand, half wrapped around my stick like I forgot what comes next, which doesn’t happen. Two hours to puck drop, plenty of time to get my head right. That’s the idea, even though it hasn’t happened yet. I drag the tape tight around the blade, slower than usual. Pressing it down with my thumb, I try to ensure a seamless flow like I can force the routine to stick if I’m del

JayIntermission rolls around and Coach is going on about tightening things up, keeping our shifts clean and not getting sloppy just because we’re holding the lead. He’s not wrong but still I’m only half listening, sitting there with my elbows on my knees and my stick hanging loose between my hands. We’re up by three. The arena is roaring around us and everything’s clicking the way it’s supposed to. Normally, this is where I settle into it; where the game slows down in my head, every play lining up before it even happens.By the time Coach is done, guys are talking over each other, still riding the high of a game that’s tilting in our favor. The Dallas Devils haven’t beat the Carolina Capitals all season. Three losses, all tight and ugly. My first game here and we’ve got them scrambling to keep up. It should feel better than this. A slow breath drags through my lungs. Still, it doesn’t settle the restless pacing my wolf is doing under my skin now, his claws scraping against bone li