I pause at a window, looking out at the campus spread below.
Valenridge University. A place I'd never heard of six weeks ago. A place that was supposed to be nothing more than a temporary hideout.
Instead, it's become a battleground. A proving ground. A second chance wrapped in ice and Alpha pheromones and the ghost of a girl I used to be.
You came here to survive…and hopefully, you'll actually live up to the opportunity.
I adjust my grip on my suitcase, feeling the weight of everything I'm carrying. The physical bags. The emotional baggage. The thirteen years of hurt that I've been dragging behind me like chains.
Time to start letting go.
To start moving forward.
The sun is starting to dip toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. Somewhere across campus, a hockey practice is probably starting. Somewhere else, Omegas are laughing in their lounge, safe and unbothered.
And here I am. Standing at the crossroads of my old life and whatever comes next.
I think about Sage's wild hair and wilder laugh. Jace's mysterious smirk and unexplained designation. Miss Phillip's knowing eyes and slammed doors.
I think about Rafe and his mood swings.
Cal and his dimples.
Étienne and his jersey that smelled like safety.
I reminisce on the rink, waiting for me like an old friend who never gave up hope.
And I realize, with a certainty that settles into my bones:
This really is going to be the start of my six-week academy life.
CHAPTER 4
The Goalie's Dilemma
~ÉTIENNE~
"The scheduling people certainly made a mistake."
Rafe is pacing the length of our shared living room like a caged animal, his bare feet slapping against the hardwood with every agitated step. He still hasn't put on a shirt. I'm starting to think he owns stock in a company that profits from public nudity.
His storm-gray eyes are wild, his jaw clenched so tight I'm surprised his teeth haven't cracked. The vein in his neck is doing that pulsing thing it does when he's about to either punch a wall or deliver a game-winning slap shot.
Neither option seems particularly helpful right now.
"We don't need some Omega in our space," he continues, running both hands through his damp hair until it stands up in frustrated spikes. "How are we supposed to concentrate with the season starting? Playoffs are in six weeks. Six weeks, and they want to throw a distraction right into the middle of our house?"
He gestures emphatically at the hallway leading to the bedrooms like the very architecture has personally offended him.
"She's going to be sleeping ten feet from my room. Ten feet! Do you know what that means?"
Cal is sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone with the practiced ease of someone who's heard this rant before.
Multiple times.
In the last twenty minutes alone.
His amber eyes don't leave the screen as he responds, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
