~MABELINE~
The boards press cold against my lower back as I settle into position at the far end of the rink.
My eyes fix on the opposite boards. The distance stretches between us and our destination like a frozen battlefield, the fresh ice gleaming under the fluorescent lights in pale streaks that catch and scatter every beam. My competition skates hug my ankles with a precision that grounds me. Cal's jersey hangs past my thighs, the fabric still warm with his body heat, his scent lingering in the fibers like a ghost I cannot shake.
Beside me, Rafe drops into position.
His scent flares. Leather and burnt cedar, sharp and aggressive, filling the gap between us with a territorial intensity that presses against my skin like a warning. He plants his skates wide, his posture coiled, his gray eyes locked on the far boards with the laser focus of an Alpha who has never lost a race and does not intend to start today.
Coach Mercer skates to the center line, one hand raised.
"On my signal! First one to touch the opposite boards wins. Clean race. No contact. No checking. Just speed."
Rafe huffs.
"I should give you a head start out of sympathy," he mutters, loud enough for me to hear but low enough that the audience will not catch it. "Seems unfair otherwise. Captain versus the new girl. At least make it interesting."
I side-eye him with the full weight of my exhaustion for his attitude.
"Why are you so threatened by me?"
His jaw flexes.
"I am not threatened by you."
"You challenged me to a race in front of your entire team because I scored a few goals in a practice drill. That is textbook threatened behavior." I tilt my head, studying his profile. "Was my performance so eye-catching that you actually caught feelings? Is that what is happening here?"
His nostrils flare.
"Me? Fall for you?" He lets out a laugh that is more scoff than amusement. "Please. Etienne can go all gaga over an Omega who is actually giving him the time of day for once. And Cal is just being nice because it benefits the team dynamic. She is not going to fool me with her cute little performance and her borrowed jersey."
She. Not you. She. Like distancing himself from the conversation will protect him from whatever he is feeling.
I frown, the expression pulling at muscles I have been using too much today.
"You are the lead of this pack," I say, keeping my voice steady. "Wouldn't you be happy that Etienne found someone who actually acknowledges him? Someone who sees him as a person and not just a replacement for your brother?"
The shift in Rafe's expression is microscopic. A twitch at the corner of his mouth. A flicker behind those stormy gray eyes. The kind of reaction that most people would miss entirely butthat years of watching competitors on the ice have trained me to catch.
He felt that.
And he did not like it.
He brushes it off with the speed of someone who has perfected the art of emotional avoidance.
"He is a replacement," Rafe says flatly. "Obviously. His brother was a better fit. Everyone knows it. Bastien was built for this pack. Etienne was the consolation prize."
My frown deepens until my brows are practically touching.
"Then why don't you be in Bastien's pack? If Etienne doesn't meet whatever impossible standards you have set, then go find the one who does. Let Etienne be free of the comparison."
Rafe huffs, his grip tightening on his stick.
"Because he is convenient."
The word lands between us like a stone dropped into still water.
Convenient.
