All Chapters of In love with my Ex’s Rival:The Ice Hockey Rival: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Lucas's POVThe Council detention facility was exactly what I expected……cold and sterile and designed to make you feel the weight of your own choices.Mara was sitting in a holding cell, not in a prison cell. The difference was that Council law gave her rights even as they held her. She had a cot, a toilet, and a sink. She had water and basic meals. But she didn't have freedom, and the walls made sure she understood that every single moment.She looked up when I entered, and for a second, I saw hope flash across her face that I was there to help her. Hope that someone still cares enough to try to get her out of this.Then she saw my expression, and the hope died."I'm leaving," I said without preamble. "Tomorrow morning. I'm taking my things and I'm leaving the Ashford Pack. I'm leaving this city. I'm leaving everything we built together."Mara stood up slowly. "Lucas……""I used you," I said, and I let her hear the full weight of that admission. "I used you as an excuse to break a co

Tamara's POVThe training space was an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the city, sanctioned by the Council and protected by supernatural wards that ensured no one could see or hear what happened inside.It was just me and my power.I stood in the center of the empty space and took a breath, closing my eyes and reaching inward to where the Eclipse Wolf lived. She rose immediately, eager and hungry and desperate to be used after so many years of suppression.My eyes turned silver.The silver veins spread across my skin, visible and luminous in the dim light filtering through the warehouse windows. Shadow flickered at my feet….real shadow, not just darkness, but something with substance and intention.I opened my eyes and looked at my hands."Okay," I said to the empty warehouse. "Let's figure out what I can do."I started with the basics…understanding how to call the power without losing control. How to keep the silver veins visible but not overwhelming. How to make the shadow dance

Elena’s POVI was sitting in the library during my free period between Statistics and Art History, working on something that had absolutely nothing to do with either class.A business plan.It was small……just a document on my laptop with handwritten notes about event planning and creative direction. But it was mine, genuinely mine, and it had been growing in my head for months, pushed to the background while I focused entirely on taking care of Tamara.Now, without that constant responsibility weighing on me, I had actual space to think about what I wanted.I had five classes this semester, which meant I was genuinely busy most days. But I also had pockets of time…..lunch breaks, free periods, the occasional evening when I didn’t have massive amounts of homework due. I started using those pockets to flesh out my ideas.By the end of the week, I had a rough business plan and a website mockup that I’d created in between assignments.………………………………………………………………On Friday, I went to a campus

Garrett’s POVDr. Marcus had asked me in my last therapy session what I thought I was waiting for.I had sat in silence for a long time before answering.“To become someone she could choose without needing to control.” I said.She had nodded thoughtfully and said, “And how will you know when that’s happened? How will you recognize that transformation?”I didn’t have an answer then. But I was starting to understand it now…..eight weeks into therapy and training and learning to understand myself….that it wasn’t about becoming perfect. It was about becoming honest.Someone who understood that loving her meant being genuinely happy if she chose to stay alone forever.I didn’t know if I had fully become that person yet. But I was getting closer every day.The Council summons came on a Tuesday morning, delivered through official channels, requesting my presence at a meeting about “potential assignment opportunities” related to a new program.I dressed carefully…..nothing that screamed alpha

Lucas’s POVI was stocking shelves at a bookstore when my coworker cristabel asked if I wanted to grab coffee after my shift.It was simple, but significant. She was asking Lucas, the bookstore employee, not Lucas Panne, not the disgraced former Alpha candidate.She didn’t know who I had been. She just knew that I showed up on time, helped customers find what they were looking for, and was generally competent at my job.“Yeah,” I said. “That sounds good.”Three months ago, I had been someone who defined myself entirely by status and position and the power I had been promised from birth.Now I was someone who worked retail and went to therapy twice a week and was trying to figure out who Lucas Panne actually was when stripped of everything that used to matter.The bookstore was in Portland, far enough from Crestwood that no one knew my history. I had found the job through a temp agency, had rented a small apartment with roommates I didn’t know, and had spent the first month just trying