Here we go. The moment of truth.
Chapter
Forty-Three
DARREN
The letter feels like it weighs a thousand pounds in my hands. The official league seal stares up at me, practically glaring. My throat's so tight I can barely swallow, and it's got nothing to do with the suppressants I'm back on.
This piece of paper holds the power to destroy everything. Not just my career, either. I already made peace with that possibility the moment Morris outed me on the ice, but the fact that my pack could suffer because of me… The idiots who just told Coach Mitchell they'd walk away from everything they've worked for if I can't play.
I look around at them, these five people who've decided I'm worth burning their futures for. The alphas and Lexie, our beautiful beta who shouldn't even be mixed up in this mess but chose to stand with us anyway.
"I need you all to know something before I open this."
"Darren—" Jax starts, but I hold up my hand.
"No, let me say this." I set the letter down, still unopened, because I need them to understand. "What you did in Mitchell's office, what you were willing to do... I've never had anyone standup for me like that. Never. And I'm grateful, more grateful than you'll ever know. But I can't let you do it."
Zayn's eyes narrow. "The fuck you can't."
"Whatever this letter says," I continue, ignoring him, "I want you to keep playing. Even if I can't be out there with you. You've worked too hard, sacrificed too much?—"
"We'vesacrificed?" Aidan interrupts, and there's an edge to his voice I rarely hear. "You've been pumping yourself full of suppressants for months, hiding who you are, fighting your own biology every single day just to stay on the ice."
"That's different," I insist. "That was my choice. My risk to take."
"And this is ours," Dmitri says simply. "Pack chooses its fate together."
"You don't understand." The frustration bleeds into my voice. "I can live with losing hockey. It would suck, but I could survive it. What I can't live with is being the reason you all lose it too."
They exchange one of those looks. The kind that says they're having a whole conversation without me, which is really fucking annoying when I'm trying to save their careers here.
"You still don't get it," Jax says, shaking his head. "We meant what we said. If you're not on the ice with us, we're not going out there. Period."
"That's—"
"Non-negotiable," Zayn cuts in. "So you can either accept that we're in this together, as a team and as a fucking pack, or we can sit here arguing about it until the letter spontaneously combusts. Your choice."
Lexie's hand finds mine, a gesture so natural I wonder often how I ever lived without it. "They're right," she says softly. "This is what pack means. You stand together or you don't stand at all. You taught me that."
I look down at our joined hands, at the way her smaller fingers fit perfectly with mine. Three months ago, I didn't even know she existed. Now I can't imagine facing any of this without her. Without any of them.
"You're all crazy," I mutter.
"Water finds its level," Zayn chimes in, earning a half-hearted glare from yours truly.
"Fine." I pick up the letter again, my pulse hammering so hard I'm surprised they can't all hear it. "But when this says I'm banned for life and you're all blacklisted for supporting me?—"
"Then we'll start our own league," Aidan says cheerfully. "The 'Fuck Your Designation Hockey League.' It'll be great."
Despite everything, I laugh. Leave it to our murder puppy goalie to find the bright side of potential career destruction.
"Here goes nothing," I mutter, sliding my finger under the seal.
The paper unfolds with a crisp sound that grates on my already wound nerves. Even Jax stops pacing. I force my eyes to focus on the typed words, trying to make out the formal language through the panic clouding my brain.
"Darren," Jax prompts after what feels like hours. "What does it say?"
