All Chapters of Claimed on Ice: Marked by the Rival Captain: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Theo POVMorning light cut through the sheer white curtains and laid long silver lines across the hardwood floor.The master suite was quiet. Cedar, rain, and warm vanilla still hung thick in the air, settled deep into the sheets. The seventy-two-hour Rut had burned itself out, leaving the room still and heavy in the best way.I shifted a little. My body felt loose, grounded, heavier than usual in a way that wasn’t exhaustion. Every muscle that had been wound tight for days now rested easy against the mattress.Dominic lay behind me on his side, one arm locked firmly over my waist, keeping my back pressed to his chest. His breathing was slow and even. His forehead rested against the back of my neck. The steady rise and fall of his chest against my spine felt like the only clock that mattered.I stayed still and watched dust motes drift through the light.For eight years, waking up had meant checking the wrist tags, swallowing suppressants, and bracing for whatever came next. Today the

Theo POVCold marble met my palms as I leaned over the sink.The bathroom was quiet, illuminated only by the faint silver light filtering through the high penthouse windows. My chest rose and fell in short, sharp breaths, my knuckles turning white against the porcelain edge.A sudden, sharp wave of nausea rolled through my stomach, forcing my eyes shut.Dominic stirred in the adjacent bedroom, the heavy oak floorboards groaning under his weight as he stepped out of bed. He pushed the bathroom door open, his dark hair messy, his broad shoulders bare. His dark blue Royals hoodie hung loosely from his left hand."Sweetheart ?" Dominic asked, his voice rough with sleep.I turned on the chrome faucet, splashing cold water over my face. "Just swallowed some toothpaste."Dominic didn't buy it. He stepped closer, his heavy Alpha scent- cedar, rain, and warm cotton- filling the small room. He reached out, his broad palm resting flat against the back of my neck, his thumb feeling the heat radia

Dominic POVThe concrete floor under my skates vibrated as eighteen thousand fans stomped their feet in the stands above us.I pulled my gloves on, thumbs catching the grip tape on my stick. The dark navy Royals jersey felt heavy on my shoulders. The white number 9 stretched wide across my back. Forty feet away, the Titans stood in their light blue jerseys.At the front of their line was Theo. The number 17 on his chest caught the tunnel lights. The white C sat over his heart.My chest felt tight. Only ten minutes ago I had been on my knees in the trainer’s room, kissing his stomach through that same jersey, feeling the quiet truth of our second child. Now he was about to step onto the ice for Game 1 of the Finals.Gavin Vance clapped Theo on the shoulder pad. “Let’s set the tone early, Captain.”Theo nodded. His blue eyes were clear and sharp. He did not look like a man carrying new life. He looked ready.I squeezed my stick until my knuckles went white under the leather. Every Alpha

Theo POVThe examination light hummed quietly above my head.Dr. Harris pressed the ultrasound transducer against my lower abdomen and spread warm gel over my skin. On the wall monitor the small white circle glowed clear and steady inside the dark grid lines.Gavin Vance knocked twice on the open door frame. “Ten minutes to off-ice warmups, Captain.”“I’ll be right there,” I said, keeping my eyes on the screen.Dr. Harris wiped the gel away with a clean towel and handed me my shirt. “Hormone levels are rock solid, Theo. The unsuppressed dynamic is shielding the embryo perfectly. No elevated stress markers.”I pulled my dark blue Titans shirt down and tapped my knuckles against the examination table. “So I am cleared for Game 3.”“You are cleared,” Dr. Harris confirmed, signing the medical waiver on his tablet. “Dominic came in here an hour ago asking for your blood pressure readings.”“What did you tell him?”“I told him your vitals are better than his,” Dr. Harris said with a dry smi

Dominic POVThe brass clock above the mahogany door chimed six times.Rain smeared the glass windows of the league headquarters building, blurring the city traffic below. Inside the private conference room twelve board members sat in heavy leather chairs, keeping their eyes on the glossy table.My father, Arthur Vale, stood at the head of the room.His dark tailored suit was immaculately pressed, his silver hair combed back with ruthless precision. He dropped a thick blue folder onto the table with a heavy thud, his sharp grey eyes sweeping over the quiet executives.“Section 14-B of the franchise lease agreement,” Arthur declared, his voice hard as flint. “In the event of a public conflict of interest involving opposing team captains, the league board holds the unilateral authority to mandate an immediate forfeit.”Julian sat beside me, his tablet face down on the wood. He did not flinch.I leaned back in my chair and unbuttoned the front button of my dark suit jacket. Across my ches