There's none of our usual power struggles, no jockeying for position or glory. Jax feeds Zayn a pass that would normally be too risky, trusting him completely. Zayn actually passes to Aidan instead of taking a low-percentage shot. Dmitri and I move like we share a brain, covering each other's zones without having to communicate.
And Aidan in net? He's a fucking wall. Nothing gets past him.
The other team tries to get in my head. Their center makes a comment about omegas belonging in the kitchen, not on the ice. Five minutes later, I lay him out with a hit so clean and devastating that his own teammates wince.
"How's the ice feel from down there?" I ask as I skate past. "Bet it's real comfy for someone who plays like a junior leaguer."
Zayn barks out a laugh as he steals the puck from their scrambling defense. "The Brick's back."
"Never went anywhere," I grumble half-heartedly, getting into position.
The game is close. They're good, I'll give them that. But we're better. We're not just five individual players tonight. We're a five-headed beast tearing up the ice.
Second period, I intercept a pass at our blue line and see an opening. Instead of the safe play, dumping it in and chasing, I take off. The crowd rises as I split their defense, deking around one guy, then another. Their goalie comes out to challenge, and time slows.
Lexie's image in my mind gives me that final push.
I snap the puck five-hole, threading it between the goalie's pads like it's on a magnetic line.
Goal.
The arena fucking erupts.
My teammates mob me, and I can barely hear their shouts over the crowd. But I see Lexie on the Jumbotron again, jumping up and down, screaming her head off. Jessica's hugging her, and Luke looks like he might cry.
"That's how a fucking omega plays hockey!" Aidan shouts in my ear.
"Damn right," I growl back.
The rest of the game passes in flashes. Dmitri scores off my assist. Jax nets one on a power play. Zayn, not to be outdone, dangles through three guys for a highlight-reel goal. We're not just winning. We're dominating.
But the other team doesn't quit. With five minutes left, the crowd's energy shifts, anxiety creeping in. This is where they expect the omega to crack, to wilt under pressure.
Instead, I dig deeper.
Every shift, I leave everything on the ice. Blocking shots with my body, winning battles in the corners through sheer will. My lungs burn and my muscles scream, but I keep going. Because this is bigger than me. This is for every omega who's been told they're not strong enough, not tough enough, not alpha enough to chase their dreams.
And for our sweet, perfect Lexie. A beta who thought no one would ever value her the way they would an omega.
It's time to show the world designation and fate aren't one and the same.
The final minute of the game. They've pulled their goalie, six attackers bearing down on us. The puck bounces dangerously in our zone. I see their winger loading up for a one-timer that Aidan might not be able to stop.
I don't think. I just move.
The puck hits me square in the chest, knocking the wind out of me. But I control it, spin, and fire it the length of the ice into their empty net.
Game over.
My teammates pile on me, a tangle of sweaty gear and pure joy. The crowd is beyond deafening now, forty thousand people losing their minds. Through the chaos, I hear Coach coming over.
"Hell of a game, Malloy," he says, offering his hand. "You play like that every night, I don't give a fuck what your designation is."
"Thanks," I manage, shaking his hand firmly.
Even the other team's players come over, offering congratulations and respect. It's not everyone, there are still some assholes who skate off without a word. But it's enough. It's a start.
As soon as the handshake line is done, I scan the crowd for Lexie. She's made her way down to the glass, right against the barrier, still holding part of that banner. Her face is streaked with tears, but she's smiling so bright it could power the whole arena.
